At the Edge of Lasg'len
by AnnEllspethRaven
Summary: A Thranduil story like you've never seen, set in modern day Ireland. As of Chapter 11, co-author Spamberguesa joins me in co-authoring this story. We both hope you enjoy this non-canonical adventure :-) Our story is published primarily on An Archive of Our Own, same username...NEW CONTENT IS ALWAYS RELEASED FIRST ON AO3!
1. Chapter 1

Many Acknowledgements: To Mary and Mal, authors of the stunning Thranduil stories found at www dot thranduil dot net, for their original character Thaladir (Thranduil's seneschal); paid homage to in this story as "Thanadir".

To co-author Spamberguesa, for bringing in her OC's from the Ettelëaverse series (they appear in later chapters), and for help and support with all things Irish and Ireland. Chapters that are co-written with Spamberguesa will be acknowledged in the notes at the beginning.

To Lilith di Libri, for both proofreading and providing valuable insights.

To the authors of every piece of educational material on the entire Internet regarding the Sindarin language in general, and the Sindarin for Beginners Facebook group in particular. And to my own bottles of red wine, because the language really is not easy to learn.

This story does not adhere to the canon of Tolkien's elves, especially on the "rules" for elven marriage, fading, and more. Seriously, don't buy into a word of it.

* * *

Earlene stepped off the plane at Donegal International Airport, feeling desperately tired after traveling so far, and enduring a tedious layover. And perhaps, feeling so filled with inner trepidation as well. Going through the terminal at JFK had proven to be a more emotional experience than she'd bargained for. That she was truly leaving New York, and America along with it, never to return...the emotions that might go along with it had not crossed her mind.. As the aircraft devoured the miles over the Atlantic on its way to Dublin, she tried to reassure herself with her usual intellectual reasoning that all would be well; this journey was the culmination of years of careful planning.

Focus, discipline, unwavering dedication and determination characterized her life to date. A number of prestigious scholarships had seen her though a stellar academic career. At the end of four years of difficult study beyond her bachelor's degree, she graduated from Columbia Law School with an emphasis on corporate practice. Shortly afterward she passed the bar exam with flying colors, and the rewards for her efforts followed.

Earlene was snapped up immediately by a prestigious Madison Street firm that aggressively recruited from among the top graduates, and her rise within the firm was meteoric. And now, at not quite forty years of age, that same blazing determination to succeed in her career had morphed into a blazing determination to assume another kind of life. While there had been great personal satisfaction in gaining high regard, prestige, and the intellectual challenges of her career, a sense of hollowness followed as well. When she had reached thirty-five, after only about ten years in active practice, it became clear to her that she had further goals, however strange they may have seemed to others.

She remembered the day vividly, when her feelings had coalesced. After a long day in the office, she'd decided to treat herself to an early evening run in Central Park. On every occasion in which she indulged herself on the winding footpaths, she found herself drawn to Cleopatra's Needle. As she stared at it, admiringly, for the umpteenth dozenth time, it finally sank in. She might be here, solidly established as a New Yorker, but she belonged here about as much as this obelisk did. Deep inside, she wanted something else...and now she was finally aware of it.

Her solitary nature, which had allowed her to devote nearly her every waking moment to her career, wanted yet more solitude. And a chance to spend her time as she chose, perhaps explore parts of life that she had been forced to leave behind. Of Irish descent, she had nurtured a fantasy for years of living in the Emerald Isle, someday. It would be a huge transition from her apartment in Queens, and her job in Manhattan. She had embraced New York City all of these years with ease, because nowhere else could one be surrounded by millions of people and yet be completely alone, in quite the same way. With wisdom passed down from her father, she had lived unassumingly given her salary, and invested her earnings wisely. Her parents had insisted on helping her, when she enrolled at Columbia, invest in a small two-bedroom condo that looked over the East River toward Manhattan. While reimbursing her parents and taking on the mortgage had bitten deeply into the early years of her salary, the price for which it had sold had made those sacrifices more than worthwhile. In addition, a surprise inheritance from her parents, of a magnitude that she could not have guessed at, left her free to make nearly any choice within reason.

It had still not been an easy decision. Over three years ago, after extensive research and vetting through a variety of business contacts, she had hired an agent to begin the process of helping her to find a place in which to live overseas, as well as all that would be involved in a permanent relocation. In what free time she allowed herself, she pursued her dream, and prepared. Her requirements had been simple: to have land (preferably five to ten hectares) with a functional dwelling, access to water and approved for agricultural use, and as much solitude as possible. If it had serviceable outbuildings, so much the better.

The agent had warned her about the assorted fees and the stamp duty and every other possible cost...but she could not have anticipated it when over a year ago, it came back to her that a solid possibility had been located. It was an odd parcel of almost eleven hectares, that butted up against Lasg'len Forest. Part of the parcel was wooded, and all of it was considered to be devalued agricultural land on account of the need to remove far too many trees for farming purposes. She was certain, that she could manage the parcel for her needs. One family had held it in trust for the past century, and it had come up for private sale. The more documentation and photos she was shown, the more she was certain the property was a dream come true. The best part of all was, it hadn't cost remotely what it seemed like it ought to...as if she were once again in the right place at the right time. Many things in her life had gone thus; though she had worked hard, Earlene felt somewhat charmed, as though she had a bit of luck with her. Though, she didn't believe in luck. Education, learning, and logical thinking had brought her through life, and she had little use for ideas that ran outside those parameters.

Passing through customs with her laptop and a very small array of personal necessities, she was to meet her agent's contact. This woman would drive her out to her new home. After far too much research, she had decided to forego even trying to obtain the right to drive in Ireland anytime soon; the requirements, fees, and red tape involved were truly a nightmare for anyone coming out of the United States. Plus, she was arriving with an investment portfolio that, short of the collapse of society, would allow for her financial freedom. A bicycle with a detachable trailer would be her sophisticated transport to a nearby village for groceries and small purchases; this move was to live in solitude, not go hobnobbing all the time. If she really needed a ride somewhere, she could afford to hire it until she worked out the public systems. And for the rest of it, there was the fabulous world of online shopping.

The agent met her, dressed in a suitably professional manner for Earlene's tastes. While she was not overly vain about her own above-average looks, her career had taught her the value of good grooming. She dressed conservatively, wore just enough makeup to enhance her appearance, and maintained physical fitness as part of the regimen of her career. Her glossy dark brown hair was kept shoulder length, allowing her to transform it into a style appropriate for the office at a moment's notice. If there was one detraction from her appearance, it would be that her demeanor was one of great reservation. Effusive smiles and cheer were not something that brought a woman far, in the competitive and serious world she'd inhabited.

About an hour's time would be required to reach their destination, and she was debriefed on the remainder of the arrangements that had been prepared. She was handed keys to the home, an envelope of cash that had been exchanged on her behalf, documentation on the shipment of her personal effects and their expected time of arrival, reference materials, on and on. It pleased her to see that all of this information had been laid out in an organized format, neatly assembled in a binder. This was the manner in which she herself worked, and expected no less from those she had hired. Earlene was professionally polite, but inside of herself felt practically giddy at the thought of reaching her destination and sleeping off the incredible fatigue she felt. No matter how great the level of her organization, the last days of preparation for this transition had taken their toll.

At last, they pulled in, and she stepped out of the vehicle. Onto her land. Her home. The sense of this finally having happened flooded into her, though she was too disciplined to show any emotion. It was impossible to avoid noticing the largest beech tree she had ever seen, right at the edge of the driveway, and that many smaller specimens graced the rear of the property, along with birch and others. She was led inside, and shown courteously the basic features of the home, and that there were reference materials for these as well. The documentation had been prepared by someone who had also lived in the States...and understood the differences in managing the affairs of daily life in Ireland and America. There was a generous supply of food in the pantry, and a well-stocked small refrigerator. A fire had been lit in the wood stove, and telephone and computer service and other utilities had already been connected. Some bottles of wine for welcome had even been left for her, and a local handyman/caretaker would be by every two days to check on necessities, and solve any further issues, as she accustomed herself to her new life.

Thanking the woman profusely, she was at long last left in her home with an immeasurable sigh of relief. Though, now that she was alone, she found that she had just a little more energy. She had to at least look around, after waiting so long. But first...she added more wood to the stove, filled the kettle with a view to some tea, and sliced some of the fruit she saw on the counter. After eating a few pieces, and with a steaming mug in her hands, she walked to see the acreage. Some old and sadly neglected, but redeemable, fruit trees met her eyes, as well as many potential garden sites. Her summers, growing up and even into her first years of college, had been spent with grandparents that had tenaciously kept a small farm until they passed on.

Earlene owed her good start in life to the fact that her own father had rejected the idea of farming from a young age. Not wanting to have the life of hard work and heartaches he saw his parents endure, he had applied himself diligently, eventually becoming a highly regarded surgeon. That same ethic of self-discipline had been instilled into his daughter and son. And yet, she'd spent her summers well into young adulthood on gran's farm, and had become thoroughly acquainted with the work. She might not be able to operate an entire farm alone, but everything about growing, machinery, canning and cooking...that she knew. Her brother Aidan had had very different interests; after they had finally flown the nest they rarely saw each other, except on the rare family holidays when everyone travelled back home. With any luck, a few dairy goats would be hers before long, and she would begin the process of keeping busy in her little world.

Walking to the wooded part, she looked up. The trees were just beginning to bud; winter kept its grip here much as it did in New York. It was fortuitous that she could arrive when she did, and take advantage of what would pass for the growing season here. She had always liked the white bark of beeches. As she walked past them, she trailed her hand along the trunks. "Mine," she said, hardly believing her luck. Faintly, she heard an echo, but in what seemed like a masculine voice. It seemed far away, yet determined. _Mine._ She laughed, feeling deliriously silly in her tiredness. "Mine, mine, mine!" she pushed back, giggling. Once again, she heard it. Stronger. _Mine._

"Clearly, it is time for rest", she mumbled to herself with a slight degree of concern, sipping her tea. Returning to the house, she closed up. Her grandparents had never locked anything on their farm, but this wasn't there, and better safe than sorry. She finished her fruit, and looked at the rooms. This was basically a large cottage, but the single bedroom did contain a rather large bed for one person; basically a queen sized mattress. Finishing her tea and making ready for bed, she damped down the stove and filled it for the night. Pulling the covers over herself, she shut down her cell phone. She had no intention of waking until she'd taken all the rest she wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

The hands of the clock were moving just past noon, when she woke the following day. Her recollections were of dreams that had been pleasant, but strange. A great deal of what she remembered seemed to revolve around the trees in the woods. In the dream, the images were of the woods outside her cottage, and yet not. There were trees that were far greater, as if what remained now was the barest shadow of something that had stood long before. Great oaks, birch and beech gave way to mixed conifers of impressive size and density.

She shrugged off the memory, and rose to rekindle the stove, feeling very grateful that her foresight had included the retainer of a caretaker. The value of help with matters such as firewood really could not be underestimated.

There was much she wished to do today, and feeling well-rested, she was eager to begin. The bulk of her personal belongings were not scheduled to arrive for at least a week; in the meantime, she intended to assess the property. After extracting a clipboard and notepad from her laptop case, she plugged in her devices, pairing them up to the wireless service that somehow was available out here. Finding a cooking pot, she proceeded to add the ingredients necessary for a decent porridge. A large container of a good milled grain mix rested on the pantry shelf, with butter in the refrigerator; she intended to make use of it, along with an egg and tea. It was just as well, out here, that she had never picked up a coffee habit.

Wearing a heavy knit sweater found in the closet, jeans and Wellingtons, she headed out with pen in hand. But not before she recalled, with a smile, that she'd need to let go of the word "sweater." She was in Ireland now, and they were called "jumpers" here. What perhaps served once as a a small barn looked to be in excellent condition. Copious note-taking ensued. Stall space, benches on which to make repairs, and room for storing forage were recorded next to lists for the basic tools of gardening; hoes, shovels, pitchfork, a wheelbarrow and an array of smaller necessities such as utility tubs were either present and in usable condition, or showed evidence of having been newly procured. Pruning saws and cutting tools hung from neatly arranged hooks. There were a few power tools, including a mower, tiller, chainsaw, and petrol and oil to go with all of them. A typical array of lubricants, solvents, paints and oils from a previous owner lined one shelf. All were safely stored in appropriate containers, she noted with approval.

A much smaller and less well-built structure that could serve as a potting shed caught her eye. The place had an electric well pump; she located spigots and hosepipes, as well as the master circuit box and other devices of similar importance. Next, she elected to walk the property line. Evidence of surveyor's work was still visible in the form of stakes, the first of which extended just beyond the great beech out front. She placed her hand on it.

 _Mine._

She frowned. Since things like that could not and did not happen, she would simply disregard it. Stopping at what was clearly intended to be an orchard, she assessed the neglect of the poor fruit trees with greater attention to detail. These were apples, and plums, and possibly pears, though who knew what variety, exactly. They would need pruning, and soon; that was a high priority. A rough sketch was made of the layout, and approximate dimensions.

Following the line back, she entered the woods, and touched the trees again.

 _Mine, mine._

If she were willing to completely acknowledge that she was hearing the words, she would have said their tone was one of insistence, and anger. She frowned and curled her lip up. "Preposterous." When alone, she liked to speak aloud. But then she thought a moment, and smirked, deciding to play along. "Yours."

 _Yes._

Her eyebrows raised. Perhaps this was some prank, on the part of the locals? She was not ignorant of the sense of humor that existed in this part of the world, or the fact that as an emigrant she could hope to assimilate...pretty much never...into life here. A prank directed at the new American owner would make a great deal of sense, she concluded.

That was a major factor in her decision to relocate; she knew small town life, thanks to her summers on the farm. One was a native, or an outsider, period. Sure, a person might stay forty or fifty years, and eventually gain a high level of acceptance, but she'd had enough experiences to know that small towns were just that...small. There was a way about these communities, and the people who lived in them. It did no good, to become offended; the attitudes just went with the territory. And besides, there was much that was good in them to appreciate, as well.

Emerging from the trees, she inspected the other part of the parcel, which had a less common feature; an old-style water tower, that was frankly a bit of a monstrosity. It seemed sound enough, but she did not relish having to ever tend or repair it...this was a deficit in her knowledge. Currently the pump sent water into it, so that meant it was a glorified pressure tank. She elected to place it in the category of "if it isn't broken, don't fix it," at least for now. Earlene could not say why she felt so compelled to do this, but just before she returned to the house, she looked back at the woods, and yelled rather forcefully, "MINE!" Laughing to herself, she shut the door behind her.

The ancient and faded presence that had once been one of the great Elvenkings of Arda was deeply annoyed. He had defended his woods against assorted intrusions for millennia, having managed to drive off or otherwise manage almost every human interloper by one means or another. Though he was almost fully spirit now, not every bit of his hröa, his corporeal body, was yet gone. He'd had no need of it, for a very long time. An elven fëa, the immortal spirit component of his kind, could not die, and was bound to the plane of this world. Long years had passed, since the realms of Beleriand existed, into which he had been born. He had chosen long ago never to sail to Aman, the land to which all of his kind were called home and to which many had returned. He had promised the Silvan elves of his woods, what seemed like an eternity ago, that he would never leave them.

And he never had; their King was true to his word. Even now, in his vast Halls hidden below the humus of this forest, some of those who had similarly diminished kept him company. Though, they had little to do, except care for the woods and take occasional note of the humans surrounding them, while otherwise lost in contemplation and memory. In the absence of effort to the contrary, and the easier bodily renewal that nearness to the Valar could bring them, their physical bodies had been gradually consumed by the demands of time. That was why they called it "fading"; they could no longer be easily seen by human eyes, but still had some power to interact with the physical world. Though, they remained visible enough to each other, as elves saw with a different sight. The process was reversible, though difficult; it required a great effort that could only be justified for a matter of pressing need.

The Elvenking had never permitted himself to fade quite so much as his subjects; it was his duty not to. He had ever been wiser, more powerful, more learned in lore than those under him. There were ways, in which to care for the hröa, to coax its cells back to life and vigor, as long as the merest ember of them remained. And now, once again, a human occupied the accursed dwelling at the very edge of his forest. A female. He had been watchful for months now, as he observed the increase in activity at the home. An assortment of them had come, apparently workers, to make improvements and repairs. And in the last few days, the amount of traffic in and out had reached a crescendo. And yet none of them ever remained past sunset, confirming to him that none of these dwelled there...until now. Whoever she was, she was not working, she was _occupying_. If his first interactions were any indication, she would prove difficult. He smiled to himself. It was no matter. Was he not Thranduil? No mortal had ever stood against him, because none ever could. And perhaps, after so very long, it was once again time to amuse himself. That she was female, would almost assuredly only make his task that much easier. And enjoyable.

Drinking her afternoon tea, Earlene looked at the modest yet spacious living area. There was a cozy couch on which to sit or lie down, and a small bookshelf. Just above it, a flat screen television dominated the wall. A coffee table, wingback chair nearer the stove, and smatterings of assorted lamps, which made for a cozy yet uncluttered rustic ambiance. She looked at the volumes. Someone had had a taste for fantasy, she saw. A well-worn copy of "The Lord of the Rings" seemed to have been the best loved, of all the titles here. She'd never read it, having had no time for such things. Though, she removed it form the shelf, and allowed the pages to fan past her fingers. What caught her attention were the Appendices. _A fantasy book, with appendices? Why would such a thing exist?_ Her extremely analytical mind found this to be quite...odd. She turned the pages here more slowly, noting everything from family trees to linguistic instructions, complete with strange letterings. Her eyebrows raised. This book was quite an elaborate creation, she realized, having spent her life with her nose in books of one kind or another. Being able to read well, and quickly, had been a necessity of her career. Idly turning the pages to what was entitled "The Tale of Years," she was almost ready to snap the book closed when a single word caught her eye. Lasgalen. _Like Lasg'len?_ She frowned, and read:

 _" And on the day of the New Year of the Elves Celeborn and Thranduil met in the midst of the forest; and they renamed Mirkwood Eryn Lasgalen, The Wood of Greenleaves. Thranduil took all the northern region as far as the mountains that rise in the forest for his realm; and Celeborn took the southern wood below the Narrows..."_

She replaced the volume, but not before she went to her notepad and wrote down "Thranduil and Celeborn." Moving impulsively to her laptop, she first entered their names, and then later the word Lasgalen, into the search engine. What came back told her in short order that these were the names of two fictional elves, both of which had been rulers in their equally fictional realms. And there were hits that made mention of this village, though precious few; she had known that much when she researched the place. And that the one called Thranduil figured in a related story, entitled "The Hobbit." Strange, she thought, that in all the world this word occurred in only two places. "Lasg'len, or Lasgalen," she murmured aloud. "Either way it is a lovely name."

 _Mine._

Looking up from her computer screen, her body steeled against what she saw as a challenge. Apparently this prank was truly an elaborate one. Were there hidden speakers, in the home and grounds? Technology had advanced so far that the smallest sound devices were now a possibility...networked to a computer, it would be quite an endeavor, yet entirely possible, to pull something like this off.

"Look, whoever you are, there are a few things you ought to know, to save us both a lot of bother. The supernatural does not exist, so all your effort to convince me that my home is haunted, possessed, or overrun with fae will not succeed. If you are looking to have fun, scaring off the frightened Yank, you're wasting your time. It may take me awhile, but I will figure out how you are creating the voice. And then we will all have a laugh, and I'll take no offense." Silkily, she added, "Besides, I know how this works. You have nothing better to do with your time, and you think I will eventually succumb to your games. Won't happen. Though, I suppose you'll keep at it, regardless. If you've so much spare time, I'd rather have help outside with the trees, thanks very much."

Silence. She smirked. I thought as much...

Finding potatoes, a cabbage, and some ground beef, she determined to work out a shepherd's pie for her dinner. She had familiarized herself with the kitchen thoroughly by the time this was completed, and enjoyed her first real dinner with the bottle of wine she'd seen yesterday. Having not yet decided on television service beyond simple broadband, and still having no desire to read the Lord of the Rings, she turned in not long after her meal. A long and comfortable flannel shirt, held closed with a button or two, was her favorite nightdress.

The dream that ensued was vivid and compelling. A man came to her; tall, powerfully built, and unimaginably beautiful. His pale blond hair was far longer than hers, falling well past his shoulders, but not an ounce of him appeared feminine. Quite the contrary. He radiated power, and desirability. He looked at her with eyes as blue as the ocean on a sunny day; flecks of perhaps some other color added to the effect; they were ethereal. And those eyes were framed by heavy brows of a much darker color, that threw his entire face into sharp contrast; it was these brows that transformed a face she would usually have thought of as "man-pretty" into "devastatingly handsome". He wore clothing that seemed antiquated, out of place anywhere outside of a Renaissance Faire. A loose white shirt, quite long, was significantly unbuttoned. He wore fitted breeches, and boots. His clothing called to mind a rider, or a hunter, but it was impossible to say. What of his skin she could see was flawless, pale, and yet an expression of his obvious vigor.

Finely formed fingers reached out to her, offering, as an inviting smile played across his face. Even in her dream, she hesitated. Her life had not allowed time for dating, and men, but...something primal inside of her raged back. _This is a dream. For god's sake, run with it._ Not believing on some level that she was doing this, she placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around her hand, and with slow but insistent pressure he drew her into his arms, where she could smell the attractive and powerfully masculine scent of his body. He caressed her back with warm hands as he gently closed his mouth over hers. The pressure and warmth from his soft lips ignited a fire. Her body and mind both reeled, as he pulled back, smiling, to look at her. How badly she wanted more surprised her. He kissed her again, and this time the barest flick of his tongue asked for entrance into her mouth. Yielding to him, she had the sweetest encounter of her life, as her mind freed itself to the experience. His hand reached up to caress her breast, over the fabric of her clothing, before slipping inside to gently cup her. His fingers brushed lightly over a nipple that had hardened under his touch, before traveling much further down. All the while his lips and tongue gently but insistently explored her mouth.

His fingers traced down her belly without resistance, to tangle lightly in the sparse hair of her mound. With deeper kisses, his fingers barely brushed over her folds, and found evidence of desire there. With humming sound in his throat, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasting them; he appeared to be very pleased. When his hand returned to touch her again, her belly lurched sharply from the flare of heat inside of her, gasping.

She sat bolt upright, awake, panting, her thoughts lost in what she'd dreamt. Groaning audibly, she tried to catch her breath. She reached her hand down to feel herself, finding that she had indeed become wet. Beyond wet. It had been such a vivid dream...she was soaked with desire, and whimpered.

"Why did I have to wake up?" she whispered. "The first dream like that in my entire life, and I have to wake up. And god, he was so beautiful. I never have dreams like that." A glass of water was at her bedside, and she drank half if it down, pulling the covers back over her. She reached her hand down again to touch herself, wondering. There had been so few times she had ever tried this, and she was not very good at it. Already the delicious heat she remembered was fading away...it was hopeless. She closed her eyes with a sense of disappointment, and soon slept again.

The dream returned. He walked toward her, again, and she thought she would burst from happiness.

He spoke to her with a voice softer than velvet. _Would you like more?_

"Yes. Please, yes." Her own eagerness startled her.

 _First, you must tell me something. What is your name, sweet one?_

"Earlene."

 _Very good, Earlene. Now, come here._

He resumed where he left off. He kissed her, touched her, left her breathless as he slowly built her desire. As he moved gently, relentlessly, she heard him speak again, but his words registered more in her mind. _Earlene, do you wish me to come to you again?_

"Yes, I do." Drunk with a sensation she had only ever heard described by others, how could she want otherwise? This was so vivid, and seemed so real..."Who are you?"

 _Not yet, Earlene. Do as I ask, and I will reward you._ His fingers became more insistent, as they began to work their way into her passage. _Earlene, am I the first to touch you in this way?_

"Yes."

 _Then your reward will be greater, sweet one. Close your eyes._

Her inner sight went dim. She felt his hands on her hips, as he gently spread her legs, holding her. She moaned as indescribable softness closed over her nether parts, and a moist, slick warmth seemed to cover her in caresses that set her insides afire. Long fingers gently worked their way fully inside her, massaging, stretching. There was no pain, only delicious radiating heat that felt like it would spread throughout all of her. Once he had eased the entrance of his fingers, she felt herself cradled as he continued to rub inside of her folds, that were now burning with need. She felt her nipple taken into his mouth, as he suckled gently. Her back arched, as she pushed her breast to him. He increased his friction and speed, occasionally slowly lapping his tongue across her center of pleasure, until her pleasure was blinding. With a cry, she felt her insides clench around his fingers as she rocked and pressed herself against his hand. In her life, she had never felt anything like this; the spasms of pleasure and the sense of relief that followed were consuming. It was slipping away, and she was falling deeper into sleep. "Thank you," she whispered to no one.

Had anyone been there to see, they would have beheld the shimmering outline of a tall and beautiful elf, smiling as he licked his fingers with an expression of great satisfaction. _That went well,_ he thought to himself. He already recognized, frightening her away would require an unparalleled effort and might never succeed. It was possible, that an entirely different solution would be preferable. And as he savored the last tastes of her on his lips, he noted that for once, his duty might be entirely rewarding for him, in so many ways.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Earlene departed from sleep with the early light of morning. As awareness returned, a very strong memory of her incredible dream filled her with an elation that she barely knew what to do with. At times, she had felt something vaguely similar, such as when watching a truly engaging romantic movie. Her enjoyment of such fleeting moments had been considerable, but as with many things, she had willingly sacrificed such indulgences to her career. There was no place for daydreaming about handsome actors or emotionally charged romances among the pages of contract law, or in long case meetings whilst seated with stern men clad in tailored suits. But this... _sure god, I can have time to daydream about it now_ , she thought. Never having had an erotic dream before, it was hard to know how they were "supposed" to be. _Was it normal, to see someone so physically specific, when she could not ever recall such a person from real life? To talk to the man, like that? To be asked her name?_ Maybe it was a little weird, but a dream was a dream and...this one had been a drug. As she rose from her bed, the memory of his kiss, and the feel of his hands, were not far from her thoughts.

Making tea and breakfast, she realized that she could not stop the world to wallow in it, however pleasant the recollections. It had been wonderful, and now there was pruning to do. After reminding herself online about the proper techniques for apples and plums, and donning suitable clothes, she walked to the barn. Armed with pruning saws and loppers and whatever else she thought might be needed, she went to work on the fruit trees.

It was hardly possible to fix this much neglect all at once, so she took care of the essentials. All dead wood was removed and stacked, and then she considered the shape of the trees. She reduced the canopy on each of them as best she could, bringing them to some semblance of a workable shape. But she also knew that Less is More, and that this was a multi-year project. Not having done this kind of physical activity in many years, she was becoming tired. But taking her saw with her, she walked back into the woods. There had been a few dead branches she'd seen, that could do with removing. Having cared for these, her eye then roved further. One branch that was not dead, but had grown in an inconvenient manner, hung over the pathway. It threatened to scratch her face; she'd already evaded it once. As she raised the blade of the saw to the branch, she heard her prankster, louder than before.

 _No. Mine. You will do as I say._

Hesitating, she looked around her. Shaking her head, she thought a moment. Prankster nonsense or not, this could wait for another day; her shoulders already ached. Lowering the blade, she returned, dragging out some of the cut dead limbs along with her. _Why did he care what she did?_ she wondered. Whoever he was, he certainly felt a sweeping sense of entitlement. She put her tools away, and made one more trip to the woods to remove the last of the branches she'd pruned...cutting them up would wait until later. A large sandwich, a few crisps, and a piece of fruit later, she laid down on her couch and was soon asleep near the warm wood stove.

Soon he was with her again. Strong arms embraced her from behind, as his hands roved under her shirt to find the warm skin of her belly.

 _Earlene._

She turned, to see his blue eyes staring down at her, boring through her. Wordlessly, he held her chin and kissed her firmly, thoroughly. Slowly, he pulled away, looking at her again.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, already breathless with desire.

 _I might ask you the same question, sweet one._ He looked at her, expectantly, with eyes that made her want to answer him.

"I do not understand...you came to me. And if I may not know your name, is there something I may call you?"

 _I forget how little you know, Earlene. You may call me "my Lord" or "my King", for that is what I am to you. And I ask you again, why are you here? Why are you living, here?_

A caress of his fingers, down her face and neck, banished the other questions that threatened to surface from her logical mind. "I purchased this land, and have come here to live, permanently. This is my home now, my... King."

Even in her willingness to indulge in what she was certain was pleasant fantasy, speaking those two words threatened to waken her, and he seemed to realize it. He swiftly resumed his kisses and caresses. His heated hands found her breasts.

 _Very good, Earlene. I am pleased. You will find that I will reward you generously for cooperation, and compliance. Would you like to feel pleasure, again?_

"Yes, my King." The words of deference came easier to her this time, and he knew it.

She continued to hear him, as he touched her. _To know me, Earlene, is an honor few are granted. I am here, because you are here. You do not yet understand, but as long as you show me the regard due to me, you will. I will never require that which will harm you, or that you cannot give. You have never had these enjoyments. They are only a beginning, Earlene._

"I always wish to have these dreams, my King."

 _What are dreams, Earlene, but deep desires? I will teach you, but you are not yet ready._

Under his touches, she was soon aching for release.

 _Hear now my first command to you, Earlene. You are to cut no living wood, from the trees of the forest. Do I have your obedience?_ He had stopped his caresses, and she whimpered.

"Yes, my King."

 _Good_ , he said, as he resumed. He spoke no more, but tenderly brought her to completion, before allowing her to fade once again into deep sleep.

* * *

Thranduil regarded her, asleep on her couch, with his brows knitted. He was no longer quite so concerned with the difficulty of securing the safety of his trees, though he would need to tread carefully. With a sense of easy triumph, mixed with a sprinkle of disdain, he recognized how thoroughly she did not understand her own mind. _And yet, this one can be taught_ , he considered. _More than that, she can be taken_. Smiling, he looked down at his hands, which were clearer in outline that the last time he touched her. She would restore his body. But it was her mind, for which he had to be concerned. His connection to her hung by the thread of her belief that none of this was real; she was permitting herself to indulge in what she was certain was a fantasy. He would need to surmount this, but he hardly lacked skill in securing the compliance of others.

* * *

It was past mid-afternoon when she woke, suddenly aware of feeling too warm so near the stove. Rubbing at her eyes, she sat up, remembering that once again she had dreamed of him. An urgent need to use the toilet demanded her attention. As she relieved herself, she found that her soaked panties bore ample evidence of her dreams during nap time. Burying her head in her hands, she did not know what to think. Definitely, she was not ashamed; what she was feeling was an undeniable elation from a natural bodily function. But why here, why now?

She remembered, it had not just been carnal pleasure, this time. He had spoken to her. And while it simply could not be real, he had said, in effect, that he had come to her because she now lived here? And declared himself to be a King, her King? Shaking her head, she smiled. Wasn't there something in psychology, about this? That women have a core need to experience masculinity, and its dominant aspect? What better way to draw that from the psyche, than to imagine not only a fabulously handsome lover, but a King...the perfect expression of male power. Maybe this was something that had been waiting to erupt inside of her all these years, held down out of reach by her self discipline, she mused. Why not give into it? Hadn't she come here, to enjoy a different kind of life? And sure god, these dreams were every kind of enjoyable.

Putting herself back together, she felt the entire subject to have been reconciled in her mind, and moved on to think about a garden space. Returning outside, she elected to first deal with her piles of branches, retrieving the chainsaw and safety glasses. She appreciated finding that it was in good repair and started easily; nothing was more aggravating than power equipment needing more coaxing than a fussy baby in order to operate. She made quick work of the limbs, and stacked them neatly with the firewood. As the wood was all long dead, it was certainly seasoned. Recalling the one pesky limb she'd meant to cut, she walked back into the forested area to find it. But the moment she laid eyes on the offending item, she heard her prankster.

 _No._

And then she recalled, with an immense frown, that her dream lover had said something else. _Cut no living wood_ , he'd told her. Commanded her, come to think about it. She switched off the chainsaw and sat down against a tree. This part did not reconcile with her thinking, at all. What deep and hidden feminine need did she have, for her psyche to tell her not to cut tree limbs? No amount of analysis yielded an answer, to this. And the end, she looked up at the branch. Either she cut the thing, or she did not. In her dream, she recalled that she had agreed to obey...him.

She stood up. As nutty and uncomfortable as this was, in her worldview, she elected to abide by her promise. But the damn branch was still in her way...

A different idea occurred to her. Returning the saw to the barn, she procured a knife, and a ball of sturdy twine. A few knots, a well aimed toss of the string ball, and a heave or two on the line later, she had the offending growth pulled two and a half feet higher. Held there long enough, she knew the wood would grow into the position in which it was tied, and eventually the twine would rot away.

"I hope me, myself, and I are happy now," she muttered, returning.

The next few hours were occupied with staking out a garden plot, and rows. As she was near to finishing this endeavor, she heard a vehicle approaching. Rising to look, she saw it was a man, driving a rather beat-up looking lorry, well-laden with firewood. She recalled that the agent had informed her that the hired caretaker was named...Ian. He opened the door immediately, to introduce himself in a friendly enough manner.

"I amn't wantin' to bother ye, ma'am, but I'm after havin' loaded the lorry, and I t'ought I'd care for 't all, an' see how yer gettin' on." He looked around with a slight air of nervousness, she noted, specifically aimed in the direction of the woods.

"Very well, thank you. I appreciate your bringing the wood; I'll help you offload it."

They worked silently together, until all was neatly stacked. Only then did her small pile of cut wood catch his eye. His expression changed to one of alarm.

"If I might give a bit 'v advice, ma'am, ye'd do well ne'er to be cuttin' on any'v the trees in t' woods. 'Tis...unlucky."

Smiling, she nodded. "I will be sure to keep that in mind," she replied, though inside of herself her gut clenched at yet one more intrusion onto this subject. After she thanked him once again, he soon departed.

As she prepared dinner, Earlene realized that she was looking forward to bedtime, with a somewhat inordinate amount of hopefulness. When all was tidied, she did decide that the least she could do was read a book. Looking at the shelf again, she found a volume on gardening, that she took to bed with her. But as much of it was far beneath her own level of knowledge, she grew sleepy from the inanity of it. Switching off the lamp, she drifted away.

She saw no one, but felt strong, warm hands kneading her sore and tired muscles, and she moaned in enjoyment.

 _You worked hard today, Earlene, and pleased me very much._ Warm breath puffed against her ear, as she felt soft kisses on her neck. She felt confusion.

"How did I please you?" The hands stopped their motion.

 _How did I please you, my Lord_ , he corrected.

She had forgotten. "I am sorry, my King. How did I please you, my Lord?" she asked again, hopeful that he might resume his caresses.

The hands expertly delved into the most tender muscle, behind her shoulder blade, and she was unable to stifle another moan of enjoyment.

 _You remembered to obey me, in the end. You did not cut my tree._ His hands moved now, to rove over her breasts, which made considering what he'd just said somewhat more difficult. But with her being highly intelligent, difficult was not the same as impossible, and the connection was being made.

"Your tree, my Lord? You cannot mean...it cannot have been you, that I have been hearing. That cannot happen..."

Thranduil knew this would be a difficult moment for her, and expertly guided her to the result he desired. He kissed her gently, until she relaxed again into his embrace.

 _Sweet one, is everything outside of your previous experience something that cannot happen?_ He spoke very gently, as his hands slowly traveled over her body, awakening her desire yet again, while allowing her mind time to consider.

"When said in those words, no, my King, but...this is a dream, and what I heard before was not."

She felt herself lifted in his powerful arms, and positioned so as to straddle him, and was rapidly and thoroughly distracted by her placement over the very firm bulge in his trousers. He turned her chin, and required her to look at him.

 _Earlene, at one time your kind believed the earth to be flat, fire from the gods, and anything that could not be easily explained to be magic. Is it not possible that still, there is more to be known, and understood? That even now, occurrences that seem out of the ordinary are entirely possible...and real?_

As he left her to think, he reached down and brushed his thumb over her center of pleasure, causing her to whimper, and gasp. She reached out to steady herself against him, only for both of her wrists to be caught in his hands. He moved faster than she was capable of following with her eyes.

He smiled gently, but with a hint of dominance. _To be permitted to touch me without invitation is a privilege you have not yet earned, Earlene._

She looked down, offering him no resistance, embarrassed at having overstepped her bounds. "I am sorry, my Lord. I did not realize."

He tightened his net on her mind further. _Do you wish to know how to earn this? I have already told you that you will not be asked for more than you can give, Earlene._

With her intimate entrance pressed up against a warm object of inestimable desire that she could feel pulsing beneath her, separated only by millimeters of fabric, she very much wished to know.

"Yes, my King...please," she added.

Thranduil smiled. It was not her fault, that she could not withstand him. As the humans trained their pets, so must he train her, bending her will to serve his. It was such a simple matter, for him to use her basic nature against her.

 _You must agree that tomorrow, you will walk into the woods. You will kneel there, close your eyes, and call out to your King. You will not open your eyes, nor will you attempt to touch me without my permission. Will you obey me in this?_

It did not sound hard, at all, and she wanted so badly to reach out to him.

"I will obey you, my King."

 _Very good, my sweet one._ He brought her hands to his body, and released her wrists. Once again, he was clad in a partially buttoned shirt. Running her hands over his arms, and up to his shoulders, she felt his hard and sculpted muscles. His form was beautiful. As he watched her obvious enjoyment and reverence, he undid a few of the buttons, and moved her hands to gently indicate for her to keep going. Trembling with desire, she did as he had wordlessly asked. When all the buttons were undone, she hovered her fingers over his chest, looking up to his eyes to see if she had permission for this as well.

And because she did not presume, he allowed it, inclining his head to her in assent. She carefully slid the garment off his shoulders, guiding it after it fell down around his forearms. Delicately, she guided each of his hands out of the sleeves, and respectfully laid it aside. His skin faintly glowed, she could now see. Slowly, she reached out to him again, still looking for his permission before placing her hands on him. Even more pleased, and knowing what she wished, he pulled her into his embrace. A cry escaped her lips, at the ecstasy of her bare breasts pressing against his heated skin. As he rubbed her back, she melted against him, giddy as her arms wrapped around him, having almost forgotten the growing urgency between her legs.

Thranduil was not fully prepared for the intensity of her responses to such small concessions, on his part. It had been immeasurably long, since he had experienced a maid. And yet here was not only an opportunity to further cement his cause, but gain his own enjoyment as well.

 _Do you wish for yet another privilege, Earlene? Do you wish to please your King as he pleases you?_

She somehow knew, that he was not offering her what she wanted the most...not if even to touch him was placed on a pedestal. There seemed to be strings attached, to what he granted her, however simple the strings were. But god yes, she'd take whatever he was willing to give.

"Yes, my King, she said," trying to hide the eagerness in her voice.

He chuckled. _There is no shame in your desire, sweet one. No other can give you what I can, and I expect you to hunger for my touch, and the feel of my skin. Kneel before me._

It was not as hard to do this as she thought it might be, when she first heard him demand it. From her posture of submission, she watched with rapt attention as he slowly loosened the ties on his trousers, and freed himself. He was large, but not ridiculously so. With her hands, she slid his trousers down a little lower, again looking to him in the event it would meet with disapproval. While she had never done this before, she was fairly certain what he wanted...and even she had seen a few videos in her life. He watched as her delicate hands touched him, exploring his masculinity. His skin here was impossibly smooth and soft, in contrast to the hardness of his arousal. She noticed that touching in certain places caused him to breathe sharply. And finally, tentatively, she put her lips to his erection, and took him in her mouth. A groan of pleasure escaped him, which encouraged her.

What she did not expect was the taste of him...his skin here was like honey, filled with sweetness. She moved him in and out, trying to accustom her jaw and mouth to what she was doing. From time to time she tried to take him deeply in, but he was too large, and she could only manage it for split seconds at a time. And yet he seemed just as pleased with her other efforts, if the sounds coming from him were any indication. What drove her on most, though, was this savoring of his skin. From time to time, he would leak his arousal into her mouth, and the flavor was different, like ambrosia. The want of this caused her to suck on him harder, with greater variation, in the hopes of drawing more. She heard him, once again.

 _It is only fair to warn you, Earlene, that after this, your need for me will increase. But unless I am very much mistaken, even now, you could not stop if you wished to._

A glance up at him revealed that he gazed down on her, the lust on his face tinged almost with a hint of pity. But he was right. Though, whether she could or could not stop was not the question...she did not wish to. Her silent response was to work at him harder; anything to draw more of the sweetness from him. It was not terribly long before his sounds of pleasure came tumbling from him almost nonstop, until the final moment when she felt him begin to go rigid. He twined one of his hands into her hair, gripping it. A reward she could not have imagined rushed over her tongue. The sweetness she had craved from him, one drop at a time, now made way for the most intoxicatingly complex savoring she had ever encountered. With a greed she did not know was possible, she swallowed over and over, trying to pull every molecule of the flavor from her lips and tongue. When forced to realize that she had removed every taste of his emission, she kissed his manhood gently, truly sorry that the moment was over. And with this mighty distraction gone, only now did she realize that her loins were soaked with want.

Thranduil, for his part, was very satisfied, and in more than one way. He was un-fading very rapidly; it would take only a few additional encounters with her to finish the task.

 _Well done, Earlene. Rise now, and receive pleasure from your King._

He lifted her up, and laid her flat, bringing her legs to rest over his shoulders. As his mouth took her, eagerly lapping up all of her wetness, she enjoyed pointing her toes down to gently caress the skin of his bare back with her feet. This time, he only occasionally teased her with his fingers; but made full use of his mouth. As she became insensible under his ministrations, she could only wonder how it was possible to know how to do that much with a tongue. No sooner did she wonder this, when a humming from him vibrated against her center, causing her climax to burst in her loins. He held her hips firmly and kept his tongue against her throughout, leaving her deeply satisfied...and exhausted. With a last kiss from him, placed on her forehead, she was lost to further awareness.


	4. Chapter 4

Earlene woke and decided that it was high time she investigated the bathtub. There was a clawfoot in the bathroom, which she eyed. While it was fitted with a shower head and curtain, a bath was what she wished. It was always about the hot water tap, with these things. She turned it on full, and then went to set the kettle on the stove to boil. Returning, she tested the water pouring out. The temperature was better than she hoped, which meant that just maybe, she might use that kettle for tea, and not in a desperate attempt to keep a bath from going cold far too soon. The metal on these old tubs had an amazing capacity to leach the warmth out of even the hottest water, and she knew to run the tub much warmer than she'd wish it for bathing, on account of this. Seeing that all was probably well, she made a second trip back to stoke up the fire in the stove. It looked for all the world like it was going to rain today, which would dampen outdoor plans.

By the time she had it burning brightly, the kettle had boiled, and now she could return to the clawfoot with a mug of tea in hand. Locating some towels, she turned off the taps and climbed in. With a sigh of happiness, she lowered herself into the steaming water that felt almost too hot...she knew that it would cool down fast enough. Leaning her head back, she allowed the water to seep into her hair, before she jammed her shoulder blades against the back of the tub, anchoring herself into a position to soak.

And now, she could no longer put off considering what she had shoved out of her active thoughts since the moment her eyes had opened.

 _What in hell had happened, last night?_ Her memories were complete, sharp and clear as the soap cake now in front of her, including all that he had said. And even she could no longer ignore the sheer improbability of the same man, in the same erotic dream, every. damn. time. she had fallen asleep in this house. With a groan, she remembered the taste of him, the feel of his skin under her hands. A sharp spasm of physical yearning from her nether parts, so strong that it caused her to cross her legs over each other, seemed to lend credence to what he had told her. She wanted him again, and so badly that her hands trembled on her tea mug a little, merely at the thought of it. For the first time it dawned on her, perhaps she was in some kind of danger. And she'd gotten this far into it because of, as he had put it, a total inability to believe in that which was outside her experience. But what was she supposed to do, never go to sleep? This was happening in her dreams, not when she was awake.

He said he'd never harm her...she snorted into her own mug, spraying hot tea back up onto her face. Irritated, she wiped it away. "You believe everything strange men who appear in your dreams tell you?" She groaned. "Apparently, I do," she said to no one in particular. Then she recalled, there was something she had promised to do today. Promised him. Not to be done in the next dream, but in reality. And that she was even considering it, made her head spin.

"I only ever wanted to move someplace beautiful, and quiet, and have a garden. Maybe a few goats. I worked so hard, for so long, to have coming here be possible...and now this." She was quite aware, how badly she was ensnared by her newly awakened sexual desire. It was an incredibly powerful drive, and not something she knew how to resist...or if she wanted to. And she knew also, she was alone in the world. There was no one to call, and ask for advice. "It isn't fair," she muttered.

"That is a pointless conclusion," she told herself in disgust. "Since when is life fair? Would you make some whiny claim like that, to a judge?"

Grabbing the soap cake, and a washcloth, she scrubbed herself clean. She washed her hair with the small bottle of shampoo she'd brought, and finished her tea. Leaning back again into the water, she worked the suds out with her fingers, luxuriating in the calming sensation of her loose hair floating in the water. With the drain plug removed, she ran the tap again for a few minutes, filling her empty tea mug repeatedly, to pour the clean water over her hair for a final rinse before climbing out. Pouring out a favorite body oil concoction of lavender, peppermint and a few other favorite scents, she rubbed it into her arms and legs while they were still quite damp. She dried her hair with the towel, dressed, and went to see about breakfast.

Having no wish to think further on her personal dilemmas just now, she wolfed down her porridge and opened her laptop. It was time to deal with the outside world, and cope with her rapidly bloating Inbox, though of course with another mug of steaming tea. Her formal letter of resignation to her firm had included a promise of availability, in a consulting capacity, for a generous period of time. Though, she'd gone to a great efforts to close out her cases before the relocation. While she never expected to return to that world, it was the right and decent thing to do. Ensuring that she departed on the best possible terms from the colleagues that had so generously provided opportunity for advancement, was what felt right. Or as her gran would have said it, "Don't burn your bridges."

And yet after a glance at the first case query, she rolled her eyes and pushed the screen away. It was no good. Already she felt like a cat in heat, and there was no getting around what she would inevitably go and do today. If it was going to rain, as her desktop forecast suggested, then better to get this over with beforehand. Finding a hat to keep her damp hair from "bein' the death 'v her", as gran would also have said, she walked outside and marched past the edge of the woods.

Earlene lingered there for a very long time, trying to wrap her mind around what she was about to do. Her discomfort was pitched, on so many levels. In the end, only a sense that any solution to this lay on the other side of this action allowed her feet to continue. She forced herself to walk on, and before long her hands were idly brushing the tree trunks.

 _Mine._

She stopped, in surprise, looking around once again, though she knew she would not see anyone. Her impulsive response told her, more than anything else, that she'd never really stood much of a chance, by coming here.

"Yes, my King. Yours."

There was no answer, so she walked on further. He'd not specified a place, and here seemed as good as anywhere. Recalling his instructions, she knelt down, sitting on her own legs with her feet extended behind her, and closed her eyes tightly. She anchored her hands on her thighs, remembering that she was not to try to touch him. He'd said to call out...which she interpreted as somewhere between a louder voice and a yell. "My King, I am here as you commanded me to be."

Only silence greeted her ears. A few moments went by, causing her to wonder. "Which is more insane, being here with no reply, or being here with one?" she muttered to herself.

"Neither is, Earlene," she heard in the soft masculine voice that she recognized too well. She bowed her head in trepidation. _This was now unavoidably real._

She immediately felt a warm hand on her cheek. "Do not fear me, Earlene. I promised you that I would never require anything that would harm you. I do not lie. I know what it took, for you to come to me here. But it was the only way to bring you past the limitations of your thinking."

Her brain was too muddled, with the sharp discomfort of facing the truth. She could not help leaning into his hand. And through this touch, she sensed that he was lowering himself down, to be closer to her.

"You must keep your eyes closed, Earlene, but you may reach out to me." She felt his arms closing around her, and she returned his embrace. Pulled close to him, as badly as she did not wish to, she began to cry.

"My Lord, why are you doing this to me? You have trapped me, by my own desires and shortsightedness. What have I done to you, to earn this?"

He stroked her back with gentle circles, soothing her. "I have indeed, Earlene. I will not deny it. At the outset, I did this to secure the safety of my woods from you. While you did not know it, your new home lies within the borders of my Realm. I am King, Earlene, and I have had a duty to perform since long before you were born, and will have it yet long after you pass on. Yet for all of this, my words have been true; I will not require that which will harm you, and can offer you great rewards in return for your obedience. It is because of a twist of fate, that you are here. But now that you have come, you are being offered an opportunity that you cannot yet understand. I am not cruel; I will fulfill the desires I have awakened in you, for as long as you wish to have this. The only price is that you continue to obey me, by not harming my woods."

She considered. For all that any woman could find much to be angry about, hearing this speech, Earlene was not just any woman. For one used to playing elaborate games revolving around what constituted "truth," she found his frank admission of motives to be completely refreshing. After a lifetime of teasing facts and truth from dark corners, someone who had enough force of personality not to hide behind a steaming pile of manure seemed like a vast improvement. She had been utterly taken advantage of, but for a reason. And if he was indeed truthful, that reason appeared to have some greater merit. "My Lord, you are King...of the Woods of Lasg'len?"

"Yes, Earlene. I have been King of Eryn Lasgalen, he corrected, for longer than you can imagine."

"Then you are...no, that cannot be..." she trailed off.

"But it can be, sweet one," he said, gently caressing her face. "I will teach you, if you will let yourself be taught."

She nodded. "I am trying, my King. I will agree, then, that I might know your name after all. Though, I do not know how to pronounce it."

He chuckled. "Let me hear you try, Earlene."

"Thran-do-ill, my King?"

He kissed her brow. "Thrrand wheel" he corrected. "You must change the way you sound the 'r'. It is rolled."

She shook her head. "I am not a linguist, my King. But I will try. Thranduil."

"That is better, Earlene. You have done well today, sweet one. I will allow you to return now to your home."

Without realizing it, she held him tighter as soon as he said this.

"You do not wish to be parted from me, Earlene?" His voice held a surprising degree of tenderness in it.

"I have landed in something very difficult to accept, my Lord, with you at the center of it. I desire you. And if this is going to be the case, I would like to know you better, if you will allow it."

He considered. "I will come to you, Earlene, when you can consent to close your eyes. You are not yet ready to see me, though you will be, very soon. This requirement will not be for much longer."

"If I kept my eyes closed, you would return with me now, my King?"

For an answer, she felt herself lifted into his arms, as he began walking.

"Yes, my sweet one. Do not think that my words meant that I do not also want you. It has been long, since I have had such enjoyments."

As she held onto him, keeping her eyes shut, she asked, "My Lord, can you blindfold me, once we are home? It is difficult, to do this; I do not wish to go against your conditions. I am afraid that I will open my eyes on accident."

He considered. "I can keep you from seeing me, Earlene, if you prefer. I can do many things; but I do not wish to frighten you. I am aware that your experience of me is straining at the limits of what you are able to believe."

"Please do this, my King. You will not frighten me. If I have accepted this much, the rest can only be assorted degrees of difficulty."

"Then for the moment, I will keep you from seeing. You may open your eyes, but you will have no sight. Is this acceptable?"

"Yes, my Lord." She opened her eyes, and it was exactly as he said. Complete blindness was upon her, which was more than a little disconcerting. "Weird..." she muttered, without meaning to. She felt him walk up the steps, and enter the house. Part of her wanted very badly to ask him why this was necessary, but something told her to leave it alone. And perhaps he was right; whatever else was happening here, the common denominator was that it was new, and beyond what belonged to the ordinary workings of this world.

He laid her down, and she knew by feel that this was her bed. She felt suddenly nervous...this was not in a dream, now.

"It will be no different, Earlene; it is only that your waking thoughts are still struggling to accept me."

"You can hear my thoughts, my King?" she asked, now feeling even more unnerved.

"Earlene, the thoughts of your kind are not hidden from me. You never need fear. You will find, in time, that you rely upon it. I see your heart for what it is, and I can assure you that I like what I see. Pretend that you are dreaming, Earlene; it will help you."

She felt herself gently lifted into his embrace, as his lips brushed against hers. Eagerly, she responded to him. Wanting to touch his face, she hesitated. Was this permitted? In answer, she felt his hand close around one of hers, to bring it to his face. Grateful, she tenderly caressed his cheek, recalling it from her dream. Her fingers followed the line of his jaw, and the edges of his heavy brows. She gently tangled her fingers in his long hair, and then her hand brushed over his ear. It was pointed...and as she felt it between her fingers, she heard him moan with enjoyment.

Her thoughts became a bit of a jumble...King Thranduil was not a King, he was an Elvenking, she now recalled. And while she did not know what that meant entirely, things such as "your kind," "long before you were born" and the fact that she could not see, under his spell, were being tossed into a new dimension. What was she doing, in the intimate embrace of someone this powerful, and...an elf?

"I would think you are enjoying yourself, unless you are finding my skills to be lacking," he said gently. "And yes, I am an elf, in your language." He knew he would have to be patient with her, to bring her through this. And while the necessity to wade through this with a mortal was somewhat tiresome, he had spoken the truth, earlier; he was hardly suffering. His words were well-chosen, and set her at ease, eliciting a soft laugh.

"I am enjoying myself, my King. I hope you can forgive my thoughts."

"I can, sweet one. Though, perhaps I need to distract you better."

He moved her hand gently from his face to his trousers. The clear invitation did wonders to cause her to stop thinking about elves. As she felt him begin to swell under her hand, even through his clothing, her loins surged. She recalled the way his trousers were laced from her dream, and deftly began to work the laces open with her fingers. His fingers were busy working their way under her sweater, and then the to the fastening of her jeans. He paused, as he encountered the zipper. The awkward tugs that followed were a small detail, but in a strange way, one that she found the most reassuring. That he did not comprehend a zipper, seemed like proof of his claims. She did not require him to struggle. "Like this, my Lord," she said softly, reaching down to flick up the slider on the zipper, which instantly allowed all of the teeth to fall open.

"I cannot say I have ever become accustomed to this notion of maids wearing trousers, Earlene," he said with an edge of disapproval in his voice.

"Then I hope, my Lord, that I can establish them as common in your eyes. They are very comfortable."

"I will allow that we can discuss this at a more suitable time, sweet one," he said with a low, rumbling laugh.

She helped him by sliding her jeans down quite far, making the rest of their removal simple. It only took a few moments more, for him to divest her of the rest of her clothing, so that she lay bare before him. Her ears registered the sounds of his own clothing being removed, and she felt him lay down next to her. The warmth of his body against hers made her senses reel; she had never before felt the bare skin of a lover in this way.

"May I touch you, my Lord?" she asked, uncertain. Again, no answer, but only a hand that guided her own to him. Her unseeing eyes shone with appreciation, as her hands felt him. All of him. She felt his neck, shoulders, even his fingers and toes. He watched, amused and yet touched, at her exploration of him. It was necessary for her to lean up on her elbow, to feel his back, and his well muscled buttocks. When her hands were done roving, she laid back down, resting her hand against his chest. She felt very aware, both of her inexperience and that she had no idea what he would allow. And all the while, desire for him...for all of him...burned in her. But she did not have an expectation of him granting it, in spite of their proximity and nakedness.

"Earlene," he said softly. She looked to where his voice came from, though her eyes were unseeing.

"Yes, my King?"

"I know what you desire, as do I. But just as your first experience of my passion increased your want, this will do that, and more. I am content, to satisfy your desires as I have already done, if you choose it. You can still turn aside, Earlene; leave this place, and seek another life. If you accept me into your body, you will never be free of your yearning for me alone. You will not ever desire one of your own kind, or be able to form another bond. I cannot take you for my own, or allow you to seek this union with me, without your full awareness of the consequences."

She frowned. "Take me for your own...what does that mean to you, exactly, my Lord?"

He smiled, approving of the intelligence she demonstrated, to ask the question. "It means that in addition to taking my pleasure with you, a bond will form that goes beyond physical delights. It will be my responsibility to care for you. While it is not marriage as your kind understand it, it will create obligation between us. You will be sealed to me, because of the nature of intimate contact with an elf. And I in turn will honor and cherish you, for what you give to me."

"You are certain, my Lord, that there is no more? According to your words, you came to me because of duty. You are a King. You will not demand that I serve you? Or will my own desire bend me to your wishes, because you can so easily use it against me, even as you are now?"

 _Clever mortal,_ Thranduil thought, _to perceive to this depth._ This was much more, than what he would have thought her capable. _Would she actually have the strength to walk away?_

He pulled her to him, gently. "Your desire will rule you, if you take this step, and you will serve me on account of it. If you determine to serve me fully, there are yet vows of fealty you must speak to me. Your clear-sightedness speaks well of you."

Earlene was favorably impressed, that he had again spoken the truth to her...though, _was it a complete truth?_

"Can you promise me, that you will treat me with kindness, and that your care of me will include my emotional well-being? I am already aware that you have ensnared me, my Lord, and that I never had much of a chance. The real question is, will you treat me well in my captivity, or will I spend my life regretting that I ever heard the name Lasgalen? I came here to find happiness, and contentment, in a quiet place. If I may yet have those things, then I accept the consequences."

"I give you my promise for this, Earlene. And my high regard. You have shown great discernment."

He leaned over, to stroke her face and kiss her, and her body surged in response to him. She reached down to touch his manhood, feeling him, realizing that he would be inside of her, very soon. At the thought of it, her loins seized again with want. He worked his way down her body, covering her in kisses until his lips reached her center of pleasure. Parting her legs, he found she was already more than prepared for him. Lowering his body between her legs, he had to admit to himself that he was just as eager for her, as she was for him. That she had proved unexpectedly insightful, caused him to desire her more. He knew, he must treat her with care. Better to begin now, before his own lust weakened his self-control.

He placed himself against her entrance, and then used his member to massage her outer folds. When she felt his smoothness slide over her, back and forth, she gasped. This felt better even than his mouth. She was helpless against the pleasure that it suggested would come to her, and moaned.

Thranduil was delighted to see her longing for him, even as he knew there could be no other outcome. "Are you ready, sweet one?"

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered. Like everyone for whom this was new, it was impossible not to wonder at what would come next. What she felt for him was not love, but there was respect, and admiration. He had given as much assurance as she would ever have, of his intentions toward her. Other men promised much more...it was not a guarantee of delivery. That he had openly confessed to manipulating her caused no resentment. Quite the contrary; her life had been one of complex contests of the mind, persuasions, and seeking to gain victory by exactly the same means he had used against her. That he had inherent advantages she lacked not was not relevant, to her reasoning; he had used the means at his disposal for a legitimate reason. She rarely lost her legal cases, and to have met anyone capable of outwitting her felt very much like an inducement, not a warning.

There was not long to wait, as his gentle invasion into the center of her sensations of arousal began. But to her surprise, it was so much more than the insistence of his manhood as he pushed slowly into her. Her thighs were forced apart by the presence of his body, she could not close them if she wanted to. The weight of him on top of her both restrained and comforted her. Her hands were most naturally able to hold his biceps, even as he cradled her upper body with his forearms and hands. The feeling of being possessed by him, not merely by his sex organ but by his entire person, was not one she had expected. Nor did she anticipate how badly she wanted this, and more. On instinct, she spread her legs wider for him; yielding to him, welcoming him. He felt very tight inside of her passage, as though there was barely room for him, which was causing some discomfort.

"Estelio nin, meluieg."

His words rolled beautifully off his tongue, though she did not understand them.

"My Lord?" she asked softly, as she gasped slightly from his next incremental thrust into her.

"I am asking for you to trust me, sweet one. You will feel no further discomfort, and soon this small sacrifice from you will be forgotten in bliss."

To emphasize his words, he stopped moving inside of her, for a moment, to give her a chance to adjust. Lowering himself over her even more, he took time to kiss her deeply, waiting for her to relax again underneath him. When he felt her tension easing, he adjusted himself, to take one of her nipples into his mouth. As she arched her back into him for the pleasure it gave, he swiftly thrust once, fully enveloping himself within her. Though it startled her, she could not help but join him in a moan of enjoyment, to feel herself filled by him at last. Once again, he kept still, giving her time.

Her unseeing eyes looked up, as she reached to touch his face. "I do trust you, my Lord. And I thank you, for what you are giving to me." It stood to reason, she thought, that all other matters aside, few women lost their virginity to an elf. Or a King...not to mention, both at the same time. A rumble of humor, and affection, moved through his chest. He was pleased that she would consider this, in the midst of her first experience with intimacy.

"Earlene, I too thank you. That you desired me, does not diminish the gift of your untouched body, that you have offered freely. Allow your King to show his gratitude."

He began to move in her, now, setting a slow and careful pace. Her eyes widened at this unimagined sensation of physical enjoyment. The massage of her wet folds, as each gentle intrusion built the burning heat inside of her, was nearly overwhelming. She knew now why he had used the phrase "take you for my own." It had seemed a strange way to describe the act, but she now understood with perfect clarity. Every nerve in her body was telling her one thing; with each movement into her, he was claiming her, mastering her. And how natural it seemed, and how easily she accepted it...she would not have guessed. He kissed her tenderly, in response to her thoughts, and then he began to increase his tempo. Her heat now flared in earnest, as each stroke from him built on the one before. Consumed by the need for release, moans of want escaped her.

His sounds of appreciation had increased as well, and when she felt she could stand no more, an immense groan came from him, as his body went rigid. Another kind of heat and new sensation to which she could not give words rushed through her; his seed must be flowing into her as he strained into her depths. With a strangled cry, she felt her own climax begin but there was more than last time, much more. A sensation of warmth and tingling moved from her intimate parts, and began to spread through her body. And her mind. Mixed in with a powerful orgasm, her emotions were being blanketed in a way she did not expect or understand. A reverence for him and a desire to surrender to his will consumed her, even as she realized that this could not be ordinary. She cried out in pleasure as her body contracted deliciously, around the part of him that filled her. But as the bliss in her body ebbed away, she felt more readily the change in her frame of mind.

"My Lord Thranduil, what is happening to me?" she whispered. "What is this feeling?"

He stroked her face, gently. He knew that telling her what would occur was not the same as her viscerally experiencing it. "Earlene, I told you that our union would seal you to me. It was not a figure of speech. When my seed flowed into this part of your body, my essence moved to bind you to me. Body and mind, you belong to me now, sweet one. You are mine."

Earlene burst into giggles, finding his last three words to be the culmination of every second since her arrival. "Please forgive me, my King, do not be cross with me. It is that word...Mine."

While his eyebrows raised, he also had the ability to see the matter from her point of view. He replied kindly, but with the thinnest edge of disapproval for her impertinence. "I can understand how you might feel, Earlene. But do not forget that in the case of my trees, I have every right to claim what belongs to me."

She caught the mild reproof, and replied with determined regard. "I do not forget, my Lord. I meant no disrespect. If anything, it was meant as an appreciation of your ability. Among my own kind, I am not easily outwitted. It would have been very difficult, but I could have left here. I chose to remain, not not resist. I chose to be yours."

Thranduil looked closely into her heart and saw that she spoke the truth.

Mollified, he drew her close. "Very well, Earlene. I can see that I yet have much to learn, about you."

The placement of a kiss on his bare chest, with reverence, was her only reply. For a time, she rested in his embrace, but then spoke.

"My Lord, I must care for some obligations. Would you allow me this, while I have some time before all I can think of is desiring you again?"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Yes, sweet one. Give me a moment, and I will return your sight to you. If you can accept it, I will remain, but you will not see me. You will only hear my voice."

"Yes, my King." She sat up, feeling for her clothing, which was swiftly placed in her hands. Sight was not required, to dress herself. Yet as she pulled her jumper over her head, a veil lifted, and she could see once more.

"That is still...weird," she said aloud.

"Are you forgetting to address me properly again, Earlene?" she heard, but the voice was tinged with humor.

"No, my Lord. That is what is known in my tongue as a rhetorical statement. One that is said, but to no one in particular, and with no intention of eliciting a response."

A hint of a smile played over her lips, at the lack of any comment, as she moved to the kitchen and heated the kettle once more. Returning to her laptop, and her emails, she sat down with a sigh.

"What is that, Earlene?" he asked.

She explained the computer as best she could, uncertain what he knew of life outside of his woods. As it turned out, he had observed transportation devices, machinery, the use of electricity and more or less anything that had been seen in or around this property in recent years. But that being said, he had little knowledge of the modern world.

"Can you read our writing, my King?"

"Yes, though I much prefer the tongue you speak, to the one also used in the outer world. It has greater clarity."

"You mean Irish, my Lord? I do not know it, at all."

"It is just as well, sweet one."

She chuckled, and attended to the kettle, making more tea. "My Lord, I lack understanding concerning your...invisibility. I do not wish to neglect to offer you refreshment but..." she felt an arm around her, and a finger against her lips.

"Soon enough, I will be glad to accept. But for now, I thank you for your courtesy. Enjoy your tea." Nodding, she smiled, sitting down again.

"I want to warn you, my Lord, I often speak aloud to myself when I work. It helps me to think. I do not wish you to think I am failing to show you respect."

"Understood, Earlene," she heard from behind her.

She began to murmur as she read: "...a claim by three directors of R & L Ltd (the Directors) against Michael Russell (the Auditors) on the grounds that the Auditors had failed in their duty to advise them against their acquisition of shares through a loan from the Company in breach of section 151 of the Companies Act 1985 (the "1985 Act"), which prohibited a company from providing financial support for the acquisition of its own shares. In the first instance, the High Court Judge refused the Auditors application for an order to dismiss the Directors' claim..." Earlene frowned as she spoke, and began typing a response as she muttered the words of her reply aloud: "In the absence of concrete rules at the current time, it is no part of the auditors' statutory duties to protect directors personally from the consequences of their mistakes and wrongdoing. But breach of statutory duty is not alleged in the present case..." Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she continued muttering to herself. "Why are they even touching on this? This is elementary..."

Thranduil's voice broke into her thoughts. "Earlene, what is that about, what you are saying?"

She stopped typing, and looked over toward where the voice seemed to originate, out of habit. "I am a corporate lawyer, my King. That is, was, my profession, from which I resigned. They are called solicitors, here. I practiced law in the state of New York. I agreed to offer consultation services to my former employers for some months yet, when I resigned my position. Though it may seem hard to believe, I left a very lucrative and prestigious position, to move here." She dropped her voice into a milder query, not wishing him to feel interrogated. "You...do understand I came to this place from across the ocean, and am not a citizen of Ireland?"

He considered carefully, not having understood this at all. His observation of humans was too limited, to perceive the variation in her speech. He did not exactly answer the question, but instead asked another. "Then you are one who gives counsel in matters of law, rules of government, in the place whence you came?"

"Yes, my King. But it went far beyond counsel, I was a litigator; it was my job to take complex cases for my firm's clients into a higher court of law, and win a favorable judgement."

She felt warm breath on her ear, as teeth gently closed over the edges of her earlobe, nibbling. Desire spiked through her again.

"I will return to you at nightfall, Earlene. It would please me, to find you attired in something besides trousers."

Feeling like it would be rude to remain seated, she rose and bowed her head deeply in acknowledgement of him. Seeing the door open and close, she sat down again. "That is never not going to be...weird," she said to an empty room, banishing the memory of his attentions to her ear, and returning to her cases.

When she was done, she made more tea and lunch to go with it. As she looked outside through the large glass windows, she noted that it was now raining steadily.

She could now think, a little, giving further regard to the ever-so-slight and delicious tenderness between her legs. "I know I have to accept what just happened, but it is still hard to believe," she informed the empty room, shaking her head as she began her tirade. "Because every day, a lawyer moves to Ireland, and within four days succumbs body and soul to an elf monarch. An Elvenking on whom she has previously never seen, anywhere that was not in a dream. And, oh by the way, on whom she still has never laid eyes, because he is bloody invisible. All this happens after she went twenty years as an adult, without a man ever laying a finger on her...maybe I should switch over to psychology. Think of the case study I would have, just with today alone. Sure god, it's a good thing mom and dad are gone, because no phone call in the world could ever explain this one. And the worst part is, I don't care at all, in the way that I probably should. Why am I incapable of worrying more about having consigned myself over to him, than about my next pleasure? Either he is that powerful, or I am that undisciplined." Her heart sank, a little, as she whispered her own answer. "He is that powerful."

Her musing aloud continued. "The situation is, undeniably, interesting. Obviously he has abilities that I can't even comprehend, and yet he knows so little of the world. Maybe I need to get past my aversion to fantasy books, and start doing some reading in the only place I am likely to gain some understanding of who he is." She walked over to the bookshelf once again, and reached for "The Lord of the Rings", only to notice that a smaller book stood next to it, by the same author. "The Hobbit," she mused aloud. A few moment's scanning of the paperback led her to realize, this was the far more likely place to begin. Remembering his words, and realizing that her encounter with him had left her feeling somewhat drained, she looked first in her closet before she would read...and probably fall asleep. Much to her surprise, she saw a dress, that she was certain had not been present earlier. It reminded her of his own clothing...reminiscent of another time and place.

Stripping down, she slipped it over her head. While it was nothing she would ever have chosen, it was attractive, fitted her perfectly, and the colors of royal blue with cream colored accents flattered her hair and skin. She laughed, looking at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall. "Why not?" she asked herself, chuckling. "If this pleases you, my King, then I am happy to comply. Though, I would dearly like to see the look on my colleagues' faces, to see me wearing this in court." Returning to the couch and "The Hobbit," she cheated a bit, and read in the middle. She found snippets of passages that interested her: "If the elf-king had a weakness it was for treasure, especially for silver and white gems." The story was charming, but she was too sleepy.

Thranduil returned at the promised time, unseen, to find his new...what was she to him, exactly? Charge? Conquest? Pet? Project? sleeping once again. He smiled. A number of terms might apply, he mused. But as he looked on her, dressed as he'd asked, he admitted to a growing affection. She was very intelligent, for her kind, and had a willing heart. One that he was now obligated to care for, he reminded himself. But there were now pressing matters, and he was so close. He needed her carnally just once more, in order to be fully restored. And whatever his virtues might be, they had not always included patience. Afterward, she would be significantly fatigued, making it perhaps easier to extract the last promise from her. Now that he knew of her profession, he realized that she was in a position to be useful to him...more useful than she could imagine. She had not minded already, his frank use of tactics that were arguably coercive, and he did not believe she would mind now, either. He was only saving time; that she would agree to any of his wishes in the end, he had no doubt. As a precaution against her waking, he took her vision and carefully carried her to bed, joining her in her dream.

When he arrived, he was surprised at the sharpness of her mind. She looked at him, smiling. "In dreams, in waking, and now again in dreams, my Lord?"

Yes, Earlene. I need something from you, and this is faster. Will you allow me?

Her look was more of an amused smirk, which mildly annoyed him. He did not enjoy being viewed as a child with his hand in the cookie jar, even if that was truthfully not far from how he was behaving.

"I was not aware that I had a choice, my Lord. Did you not inform me that I belong to you now? Am I not yours?"

His eyes narrowed. She was teasing him, but with a degree of respect that would not allow him to find fault. Earlene saw his annoyance, and had had her fun. Bowing her head deeply to him, she said only, "Do as you wish, my Lord."

He did not hesitate, as her mild resistance had only inflamed him further. Pulling her to him in a heated kiss, he ran his hands down her body. Reaching behind her, he took each side of her bottom in one of his hands, and lifted her against him, grinding against her through her dress. Though surprised at his comparative roughness, she still responded eagerly to him. Releasing her, swift hands raised her skirt to remove her insubstantial undergarment. He freed himself, as swiftly as possible. Moving her skirts, and checking only to ensure she was in some measure ready for him, he began to enter her. This was not slow and measured, as he'd done for her before; it was far more primal.

There was both discomfort and excitement for her, as he sought to couple with her using very little preparation or restraint. As he kissed her greedily, her inflamed desire for him won out, for a time. His forceful thrusts into her still very tight passage caused him to groan in ecstasy, even as she reaped both pleasure and pain from him. There was surprise for her, discovering the power of unrestrained male passion. It was intoxicating and frightening, all in equal measure. Opening her heart and her body to him, she accepted his onslaught, clinging to him as he took what he wished. Her inexperience caught her unawares, as her body climaxed hard even through the irritation and soreness he was causing. The feel of her spasms around his member brought him more pleasure yet. Too far gone in his lust, he did not heed her soft cries of pain during his last rushing frenzy, before he released into her with a mighty yell.

Earlene felt dismay. She had not known that a man could hurt her in this way, with his body. Or rather yes she knew; she was not a complete ignoramus, but it was different to actually experience it in some measure. She knew that he had not set out to do this her, but that did not alter that she was now raw and in great discomfort. "Please, my Lord," she said in a small voice, wishing only for him to leave her body so that the burning soreness and feel of bruising might lessen. The desperate fatigue she felt was beside the point.

Her words interrupted his inner sense of triumph, as he looked down at himself and saw a physical body that was solid and whole. Returning his focus to her, his eyes widened as he realized what he'd done.

 _Earlene, I am sorry...I did not intend to lose control of myself like this._

She shook her head. "It is no matter, my King, but it hurts to have you still inside of me. Please..."

 _Earlene, it does matter. Even though I have made a mistake, will you allow me to correct my wrong? I would not have this memory stay in your thoughts, when this is so new for you. Please, forgive me._

"I know you did not mean for this to happen." For the second time, she told him, "Do as you wish, my Lord."

He very gently pulled out of her, and was now touching her with his fingers, very lightly. A warm, tingling sensation spread through the places that he had injured, replacing the discomfort with relief and full healing.

"Thank you," she said, surprised and grateful.

 _I promise that when you wake, I will give you pleasure as you should have had it. There will be no more need for me to come to you in dreams, Earlene._

She smiled at him, feeling very sleepy, as he released her back into rest. As she slept on, he returned their clothing to its original state, and carried her back to the couch. He added wood to the stove, and heated more water for tea, as he took time to sit and think. It was unseemly of him, to have treated her as he'd done. There was no excuse. His needs and goals, that his duty demanded, were one thing. But he had promised her she would not be harmed, and he had harmed her. That he had been able to swiftly remedy it was beside the point. He would owe her a concession, for this.

He prepared tea, for both of them. It had been a very long time, since he had taken food or drink; his body would require it now. He had seen where she kept the little bags of tea, which he admitted were a clever invention of the humans. There was much they had done, that was ingenious, he had to admit. Though he stood above them in many ways, he had been forced into a lesson of sorts, this afternoon. There were limits to his imagined superiority. She had kept her deference to him, even while he was injuring her in the worst way possible for one whose maidenhood he had taken only earlier today. Even while he was draining her, to restore himself, without her full knowledge. Looking up, he came to a decision. There would be no more duplicity; she deserved better, and she had earned it. And that aside, there were more hurdles. She had not yet seen him, with her waking eyes. Either way, she would either embrace him from her heart, or he would have to learn to try harder to win her over to his needs...in full honesty.

He took his first sip of the hot beverage, savoring it. He would have to care for her, he realized with his brows knitted, because he needed her to care for him. At the moment, there were none in his Halls able to prepare food, or serve him, though that could be remedied shortly. It had been so long, since those in his realm had engaged with the tangible world. Perhaps it was time; things had apparently changed a great deal. Too much. Formerly, the humans had had nothing to offer of interest. But their devices, their abilities...they were far beyond what they once were.

As he looked over, he saw that she was beginning to stir.


	5. Chapter 5

Thranduil brought the mugs of tea to the table near the couch, setting them down. He lifted her carefully, and seated himself holding her in his arms, as she continued to slowly wake. One of her hands, he held in his own.

Earlene roused slowly, aware of his embrace. She was glad of it. The dream she remembered had gone...differently, than probably either of them would have liked. But he had cared enough, to make amends, and had apologized in what must for him have been an unusual circumstance. While she knew little about him, she could guess that regrets were not something he expressed often. He was not perfect, but he had been perfect in his willingness to display honesty regarding his behavior...and she would rather have the latter. He held her hand, she realized, opening her eyes to try and wake a bit more. It was a strong, large hand, with flawless skin and long, well-formed fingers that were neither delicate nor coarse. The hand of a King, she thought, and then her eyes opened much wider. She was seeing him.

"My Lord?" she asked.

"I am here, Earlene," she both heard and felt from his chest, against which she was held.

"You are allowing me to look on you?"

"It is the least I can do, meluieg; it is because of you that I am restored."

She frowned, still feeling sleepy. "I do not understand, my Lord, but thank you. Your hand is lovely."

He laughed. "You are quite possibly the only person to have ever commented on that, Earlene. But perhaps it is also because you are struggling, to look at the rest of me?" He spoke the last part kindly, and with consideration in his voice.

"It is difficult, my Lord. I am sorry, that my mind is not more flexible, concerning these matters."

"No, Earlene. Do not be sorry. You have done very well, and have already given me much. And you have more than earned more forthrightness, from me. I wish to apologize once more, for my treatment of you. It will not happen again."

Her head nodded slowly. "I believe you, my Lord."

"And that brings me to another matter." He raised her to a sitting position, as easily as if she were weightless. His arm reached out, to bring the mug of tea to her. Taking it from him, she saw that he wore a ring on his index finger; it appeared to be a very large emerald cut diamond, set in gold. She forced her eyes to follow the arm that was clad in a rich, dark fabric, to the shoulder over which his pale golden hair fell. Sensing her hesitation, his fingers tilted up her chin, until her eyes met his. Her heart was pounding; it was not in her to help herself. His beauty was far greater than in her dreams, for she saw him now with the clear sight of her eyes, and not the strange buffer that the memories of dreams left. And unlike in her dream, he wore a diadem of exquisite craftsmanship, that held another clear gem at his hairline. Without thinking, she sipped the tea, trying with all her might to digest the sight of him. But then she looked at the tea, he'd made her, which she'd forgotten to acknowledge.

"My King, thank you, for the tea." It was far easier to look into the depths of the beverage, than to meet his eyes.

 _This is ridiculous_ , she thought. _I have accepted him as my lover and more, and now it is awkward to look at him?_ _Then again,_ she thought ruefully, _usually the order in which those things occur is reversed._ Becoming impatient with herself, she returned the mug to the table, forcing herself to look at him again. That she had never looked into eyes like his, was a surety. They were a dazzling shade of blue, with what looked like wheel spokes of white thread running through the irises, but there was so much more to them than their aesthetics. If there were any lingering doubts that he was indeed a King, they were dispelled. The depth of what was behind his gaze felt like a weight on her spirit. She reached her hand toward his, hovering her fingers over it, waiting for a sign of acceptance. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, as he took her hand.

"You are welcome for the tea, Earlene, but that was not the other matter. You have earned a concession from me. Even when I have not deserved it, you have behaved with the courtesy I demanded from you. I am releasing you from the obligation to speak to me with such a high level of formality. You may now call me by my name, and speak freely with me in conversation."

This was unexpected. "Thank you, Thranduil," she said softly. "I appreciate this, my Lord, very much. It will...make it easier, for me." Placing her other hand on his, she looked back up at him. "And thank you, for allowing me see you. You are...very pleasing to look on."

"I am glad you think so," he said, amused. Drawing her closer, he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, and then her cheek. They were soft, slow kisses that asked for more. He brushed his lips against hers, questioning. With the sight of him, her yearning for his body was stronger than ever. She met his lips eagerly, indulging her hands in how much they wanted to caress his face and neck. As promised, he soon took her back to the bed, where he gently and carefully loved her until she experienced bliss once again.

Afterward, he helped her to dress again. As they returned to near the wood stove, she regarded him, with her head tilted to one side. "Thranduil, what more do you want from me?"

He looked up at her, from the seat he had taken on the couch, unprepared for the question. But, she had asked. "Two things, sweet one. One small, and one much greater."

"Tell me, please?"

"The first is that I cannot take you to my Halls until you are willing to swear loyalty to me as your King. To serve me, obey my laws and commands, and to accept punishment for disobedience. To be a subject of my Kingdom, and agree to live alongside the elves, such as we are."

Her eyes widened. "And the second?"

He smiled. "I was hoping you would prepare a meal for me. I find myself in the awkward position of needing to eat once again, and am temporarily lacking assistance in this area. Those of my station are not skilled cooks. Or even unskilled ones. I am at your mercy, in this."

Earlene immediately walked to the kitchen and began peeling potatoes, and noted gratefully that there was still rather a lot of ground beef left over from the little shepherd's pie she'd made.

"Consider the second to be granted; I would never let you go hungry. Regarding the first, I hope you will not be offended, my Lord, if I feel the need to ask questions."

"I expected no less, Earlene."

"I am reading what is supposed to be a fantasy children's story, in order to learn something about you. Could you please summarize, as briefly as possible, how it is that you went from there to being in this room? I expect to learn more fully with time, but would like an overview."

Listening to him carefully as she chopped vegetables, she had to ask him to pause at one point. The onions she'd been provided with were laden with sulfur, and she desperately was trying to rinse her tearing eyes with water from the tap. She felt him come behind her, gently but firmly turning her head toward him. "Tell me what is wrong, Earlene."

"My eyes hurt, from the onions." In a moment, he remedied the problem. Backing away from the offending vegetables, she gave a more detailed explanation of how the onions reacted with human eyes to cause burning and pain. Looking to the cutting board, he asked "Will it help you, if I cut them? They cannot bother me as they do you." She felt a tug at her heart, as she nodded her assent, and asked him to continue his answer as she stood at a safe distance. The response was done at about the same time as the onions. Taking the cutting board back from him, she moved the culprits into a stock pot, adding butter and setting it to sauté and brown along with the beef.

"Can you please explain something of elves to me? I can see that you are powerful, and that you seem to be...immortal but...I am trying to understand how it is you are still here, living hidden in this world?"

This explanation was perhaps more relevant. He explained their choice not to sail to the Undying Lands and their fading, and was bluntly forthright about how he had used her to restore his body.

"If I make these vows to you, will any of your promises to me be negated? Will I no longer be allowed to live here?"

"My promises to you would all stand. I would allow you time here, and I would stay with you unless you wished otherwise. As you already know, your home lies within my realm, though at its edge. But I would also expect you to live with me, as well. There are few of us, compared to before, in my Halls. I would openly acknowledge my connection to you, and you would have a place of honor among us."

"Would you allow me to continue to meet my promises to my former employers? Will I have to give up any right to interact with the rest of the world?"

"I would never require you to break promises. Nor will I keep you a prisoner in these woods; if I cannot trust the faithfulness of your vows, there would be little point to any of it. Though I will ask you now, are there other promises or obligations to which you are committed?"

"No, my Lord. I have a living brother, but we are not close, to put it mildly. I am otherwise alone in the world."

She sifted his words, as she added more vegetables to the stock pot, and disappeared into the pantry. Returning with flour and leavening, she began to mix a quickbread.

"What do you really want of me, Thranduil? What is it that you cannot ask of me, as matters are between us now, that you require this extra measure of authority over me in order to accomplish?" Her voice was completely calm as she asked this, but her eyes did not leave him.

He looked at her with a flicker of regret. "I cannot tell you that, without securing your pledges first. I have already risked much, with you, and though I am King, I am bound by my own vows."

Her eyes blinked as she looked at him, considering. "This next question will sound terribly self-interested, but I believe it needs to be asked. What, exactly, is in it for me, if I agree to this? I can only concur that I am being asked to have blind faith in you, if I give my assent."

He smiled. "You will have experiences, and rewards, that would not be part of your life, otherwise. You will be cared for, by me, for all the years of your life. That last part alone is an offer unique in all the world."

She nodded, slowly. "One last thing. Which perhaps has only limited relevance to the discussion, but again, must be asked. I am human, and subject to my nature. I can guess that being an elf means that you are far less ruled by what you are as a physical being; less ruled by your biology. What happens, once I fall in love with you? I can see that I am less...advanced...of a sentient creature than you. Are you able to love me, in return, in any manner? This question might far better have been considered by me before we joined our bodies, but better late than never."

His blue eyes bored into her, but were not unkind. "Somewhere, I have a wife. I have not seen her face since thousands of years before those who built the ancient pyramids of your world lived. She parted from me long ago, to sail to Valinor. I chose to remain here, having promised my subjects never to leave them. If I ever see her again, likely as not it will yet be long ages into the future. With only the rarest exceptions, elves marry once, love once. I cannot love you, in the way that I once loved her. For me, the sad truth is that I will blink a few times, and you will be gone, so brief will the span of your years be in my eyes. But I can meet your desires, cherish you, care for you, grant you affection, and share my mind and heart with you, in what short time we will have. I do not expect you to understand how an elf experiences love, nor will I be arrogant enough to presume I can fully understand love among humans. There were marriages between elves and men of old, though they were few. You are already bound to me, Earlene. I hope for your sake, that what I offer you can be enough."

She listened, as she kneaded the biscuit dough, patting it into shape and leaving it to rest, as she washed her hands and turned on the oven to preheat. Nor did she speak as she added beef stock, a generous amount of barley, and the rest of the vegetables to the soup pot, to simmer. Drying her hands, she returned to him across the room, and sat next to him.

"It perhaps speaks to the truth of your words, that we are very different, because all that you are willing to give me is the definition of love, for a human. Love is not only an emotion, it is a demonstrated set of actions toward another; there are different kinds of human love. When we feel strong emotion that encourages our hearts to act in a passionate way toward another, a mate, we tend to express that in words. That is romantic love, for us. But there is also principled love; love that is shown to another out of choice, and dedication. And more than one kind of love can operate in a person, at a time. Sooner or later, I will feel compelled to tell you that I love you, and I hope it will not cause you offense. If you cannot return the sentiment, I am able to understand that. Your actions will speak louder than your choice of words. What you offer is enough, Thranduil. I may never have had a man before, but I have seen many relationships among my kind. Even if it was only out of a sense of duty, I can see that you would meet your promises to me. I am grateful to have found a mate, of sorts, however unusual the arrangement. And, you have answered my questions honestly. I will swear loyalty to you."

His lips parted in surprise. He had begun to seriously question whether his decision to forego deception would be his downfall. "You are certain, Earlene?"

"As I see it, my King, you have offered me a verbal contract, that I am accepting. I am willing to take the risk, based on what I can assess of you, that what you will not disclose to me will meet the promises you have made to me. I have already committed myself to you very deeply;it hardly seems that going a little further can matter. And, it seems to be quite important to you."

He rose, and moved to where there was some floor space. "Then come, take my hand, and kneel before me, sweet one. When you have answered all of the questions in the affirmative, you will kiss my ring. It is the final act of your promise of fealty."

Taking his hand and lowering herself to do as he'd asked, she could only wonder, what she was getting herself into.

"Earlene, will you pledge to serve your King, Thranduil son of Oropher, ruler of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen, and to obey his laws and commands?

"I will, my King."

"Will you pledge to honor me in your heart, accept my justice for disobedience, and continue as a subject of my rule, forsaking all other authority?"

"I will, my King."

"Will you freely give yourself to me, and promise your fealty to my throne, until death takes you?"

"I will, my King."

He smiled. "I Thranduil, son of Oropher, vow to serve you as your King. I will honor, care for, and protect you as is my sworn duty, all the days of your life. Your loyalty and your service, I will reward. So say I."

He squeezed her hand gently, and she leaned forward to kiss the large diamond, idly wondering just how old this ring was, and at the same time not really wishing to know. With his hand under her arm, he raised her up, and embraced her.

"Thank you, Earlene," he said. Relief washed over him. He could now feel safe, that his designs could succeed.

Her head felt like it was swimming, a bit. She was still very tired, but at least she now understood why. He felt her unsteadiness, and went to the kitchen with her.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Stir the soup, please," she said, handing him a large wooden spoon as she poured some salt into her hand and then tossed it into the pot, before cutting the biscuits and placing them on a baking sheet with parchment, and then into the oven, setting a timer.

Thranduil watched her, fascinated. She seemed to just...know, what to do with the food. He had never given much thought to the procurement of the thousands of meals he had been served in his life. Spooning some soup into a teacup, she tasted it. Grimacing, she looked at the array of seasonings on a little shelf, and opened the little jars to toss in some of this and some of that, and then tried the pepper grinder. To her dismay, it was one of those poorly made ones that took a great effort to get just a little pepper. "Would you do this for me, please?" she asked, handing it to him.

He copied her motions with the grinder, as she carefully added small amounts more salt in increments, and kept stirring and sampling until she was satisfied. Finally, she told him he could stop. She brought out butter, and some sliced cheese, to go with the biscuits, and set out tableware for them. When the timer went off, she asked him to please sit, gesturing to one of the two barstools that allowed for eating at the other side of the kitchen island. In a flurry of motions, she ladled his bowl full, piled the steaming biscuits on a plate, and pushed the butter and cheese toward him as well. "Please, eat, my Lord," she said, half filling her own bowl. "I am sorry it is such simple fare. I can do better for you, after tonight."

"You will eat with me, Earlene. Stop your work, now. I can see your tiredness, for I have taken much from you, today."

"Yes, my Lord," she said meekly, sitting down to her bowl. For a time, they ate together in silence.

"What you have prepared is delicious, Earlene. I have not eaten food in a very long time, and I am grateful for your meal, simple or no."

"You are welcome, my King. I am glad it pleases you. And...may I ask you, Thranduil, how it works, with you? Invisibility, a body that does not eat...I would like to understand better."

He explained to her the nature of their creation as elves by Eru, long millennia ago, and the twin natures of their fëar and hröar. How because they were primarily of a spiritual nature, their need for a corporeal body could come, and go; that effort was involved in renewing the physical body but that the spiritual component remained strong and whole regardless. And that the closeness between their species allowed for any of them to interact with a human, or each other, in order to gain the smallest components of life, by which they could once again re-embody themselves.

"I never faded to the degree many others have, Earlene, and so I required less effort to restore my body. But when you arrived, I was in a hurry. Not knowing your intentions, having no control over you, and seeing that plenty of objects like saws and axes were at your disposal, I had to go about matters by the fastest means possible. When it became obvious that you could not be frightened by my voice alone, seducing you and having intimate contact with you was that means."

Her eyebrows raised, as she asked the next question carefully. "You already had my compliance after you joined with me, this morning, but you were still in a rush to fully re-embody yourself? Is that why you were so...in a hurry, earlier, and what you meant by needing something from me?"

He looked up at her, realizing that once again he had failed to account for her analytical skills. The expression on his face hardened a little. Without apology, he simply replied, "Yes."

"Because," she continued slowly, "your final goal was to secure my loyalty, as quickly as possible?"

"Yes."

Wordlessly she rose from her stool and carefully took his hand, bending down to kiss his ring once again. She released him with a gentle squeeze, and excused herself. It was not her intention to leave him feeling as though he was being accused of doing something wrong; she had agreed willingly to all of this. Without speech, she let him understand that he did, indeed, have her fealty. And she was so, so tired. Sitting on the bed, it was hard to even pull the dress over her head. As she struggled with the sleeves, she felt the garment lifted off of her.

She thanked him, and brushed her teeth, which fascinated Thranduil. He undressed himself, and took her to bed. That he would be willing to stay the night with her, had not occurred to Earlene. As she felt herself enveloped in the warmth of his body, her heart filled with gratitude and affection toward him. In her dreams during the night he came to her again, but not for intimacy. He held her, soothing muscles that felt tired, all the while humming softly, or whispering quietly in a strange and musical language she could not understand. Her sense of rest, quiet, and security in his arms was a gift she had never known. On some subconscious level, she knew he would be both the greatest happiness and the greatest challenge of her life, and felt at peace with it.


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning she woke feeling as refreshed as she had felt drained of energy the night before. She was hungry; she had been too tired to enjoy her own soup and biscuits. And there was more. She was surrounded by warmth and a masculine smell. His hand traced down her arm.

"Good morning, Thranduil," she said softly, relishing the delight of having a lover next to her. "This is quite a treat, for me. I have never before awakened to someone sharing my bed...thank you." She began to turn around, to face him, only to find herself caught in his arms, held tightly. Earlene relaxed into his grip, feeling very content. Only then did she become aware of the pulsing hardness that was burying itself against the cleft of her bottom. She smiled, wondering what he might do, and hoping it would be...something. The twinge of yearning that was now becoming familiar rushed through her loins while still feeling excitingly new. For all that she obviously had him for herself, the idea of asking him for his attentions in this way still collided with her understanding of him. How did one address, exactly, the elven monarch who was unabashedly using her in the nicest way possible, in a request for gratification? From her observations, it was hard to take a false step by according him deference.

"Please, my Lord?"

A sound somewhere between a low rumble and a hum came from him. He brushed her hair back from her neck and face, placing tender kisses there while his hands began roving. Every touch was a delight, as his hands ran smooth circles over her firm breasts. She reached behind her with her free arm, caressing the sculpted muscles of his legs. After a great deal of very enjoyable exploring and teasing of her body, he turned her on her other side, now facing toward him, so that he could kiss her properly. While thus occupied, she felt him lifting her upper leg, quickly followed by his manhood touching at her entrance.

Once she realized what he was doing, she eagerly tried to push down onto him. He chuckled and backed away a tiny bit, grinning when a sharp sigh of dismay escaped her. In the next moment he entered her, changing the sigh to a moan of appreciation. As he scissored her body against his, pulling her in close, she gasped at how wonderful this new variation felt. He was inside of her, and yet it seemed so different than his previous attentions.

"There are many positions, sweet one, each yielding a different enjoyment. In time, you will discover them all."

While that definitely sounded appealing, she found herself too preoccupied with the growing bliss in her intimate parts, to think on it very much.

Faster than she could blink, he rolled her on her back, without breaking his connection to her. Taking her legs, as if she were a doll, he guided her through the different sensations to be had, with her legs held in different placements. It fascinated her, but she had liked best of all the way in which they had begun. Though she did discover, once he allowed her to stretch out again, that she liked to wrap her legs around his. Whatever else he had in store for her, if she could have this with him, she felt reasonably sure she could manage it. Having spent the first half of her life denying herself everything of this sort, she was not completely surprised at the degree to which she was possibly ignoring her peril. And when her orgasm finally broke in a shattering crescendo around his rigid manhood, she cared even less. He slowed his movement, to allow her to take her full pleasure. As she looked into his eyes, with his satin hair cascading onto her shoulders, she wished very much that she could taste him again.

The corners of his mouth turned up. "I would enjoy it as well, meluieg," he said. "Is that what you wish to do?"

Earlene nodded eagerly, still feeling a bit shy about some aspects of their intimacy.

Obligingly, he left her body and laid himself down at her side. That she would not need to kneel, she liked. Not that she minded the position, but the floor here was decidedly hard on the knees. Taking him in her mouth, she first encountered the taste of...herself. While difficult to describe, the tanginess of it was not unpleasant in the least. And it didn't matter, because the more her tongue attended to him, the more the honeyed taste she craved came to her. While it was true she hadn't 'gotten out much', for lack of better words, she had never run across anything that hinted that men gave this amazing bouquet of tastes when doing...this.

"Because they do not, Earlene. This is your privilege, in having the rare opportunity to partner with an ellon."

Though she did not know what an ellon was, she was not about to remove her mouth from him long enough to inquire just now. Conveniently, though, she did not need to.

"An ellon is a male elf, Earlene, and an elleth is a female."

For all the awkwardness at having her thoughts be so transparent, she had to admit there was a certain definite advantage. He did not answer, but chuckled, as he reached his hand to caress her side. She enjoyed herself greatly, as did he. He drew her to him, after, and held her in the crook of his shoulder. Wrapping her limbs around his body, she felt extremely happy. So happy that she could even deal with her Inbox, later.

"Later, indeed, meluieg. For after breaking our fast, I will take you to my Halls."

He felt her involuntarily tensing against him, as apprehension rose within her.

"We will not stay long, sweet one. I have no wish to overburden your senses. That and, the necessity of needing to eat meals will dictate our circumstances, for a time." With that, he rose in a swift motion, taking her with him.

"How is it, Thranduil, that you move me around so easily? I can see that you are strong, but I weigh enough that it should at least be some effort."

With a smirk, he placed one hand and arm underneath her bottom, raising and lowering her with equal effortlessness. "My kind are significantly stronger than the race of men, meluieg. And among my kind, I am one of the strongest." He shrugged. "My strength is what was granted to me, at the time of my birth. I cannot help it, any more than you can help having dark hair."

"I see," she said, somewhat awed. "Then, would my strong King like to eat?"

With a light toss, he sent her a little up into the air, before catching her waist to place her on her feet, smiling. "Yes, I would."

She bowed her head to him, and went to take care of personal matters in the bathroom. Though she did not take long, she found him already dressed, and staring into her wardrobe. A mighty frown had spread across his features. As she watched him, she vaguely wondered if he would allow her to dress, or if he preferred her to cook naked. Her breasts in general, and her nipples in particular, had volumes to say about the temperature in the house, at the moment.

"My Lord?" she said politely, "May I please dress? I am cold."

Stepping aside, he nodded. "You require far more clothing, Earlene."

"The remainder of my belongings are scheduled to arrive within the week, my Lord. I assure you I have more than what I am making do with, here."

"Your clothes will suffice for your time here, meluieg. Different choices will be required, in my Halls."

Looking at him, she could guess. "You wish me to wear yesterday's dress again, that I strongly suspect came from you?"

"Yes," he said, his head held high in an attitude of authority.

Bowing her head, she found clean underwear. The dress had been fitted and stitched in such a way that no bra was needed. Pulling on a pair of cotton leggings, she heard a noise of disapproval from him, and looked up.

"You do not wish me to wear these, even though the dress will hide them?" she asked.

"Why do you need them?" he fired back.

"Because I am cold, and these will keep me warmer. With respect, Thranduil, have you ever worn a dress? They can be lovely, but they are not warm garments, unless extra layers can be added."

Frowning, he had to concede that he had not ever worn a dress. And while he could not recall that his wife had ever mentioned this, his wife had not been human. "Leave them on, Earlene. I did not know," he said, his expression softening.

Climbing into the dress once again, she shook out the skirt, which had remained marvelously free of wrinkles. "Thank you for this, my Lord. While I am not accustomed to clothing of this kind, it is pretty, and well-made."

"I should have told you, you look beautiful in it, Earlene. And out of it. You are an attractive and desirable woman."

"I am glad you think so, Thranduil," she said lightly, moving to attend to breakfast before he could work out that these were his same words to her, when she'd complimented his appearance.

The moment she walked into the other room, she groaned. In her tiredness, she'd left the pot of soup out all night. And the biscuits; they ought to be like little bricks this morning. "Nuts," she muttered. "I wanted those to eat, and now I'll have to make more."

His arm slipped around her shoulders. "What is the matter, Earlene?"

"The food, my Lord. I did not put anything away properly, and now it is not fit to eat."

"You will find it as you left it, Earlene, except for the temperature. It is perfectly wholesome, and fresh."

"It is?" she said, looking up at him doubtfully. "I have no wish to have food poisoning."

He smiled down at her. "You are living within my Realm, Earlene. You will find that many things are not as you are accustomed. The food is unspoiled, and needs only warming."

She frowned as she went to heat the kettle. "While I do not understand how the pathenogenic bacteria bow to your will, I will trust you. That being said, would you like porridge? Eggs? Cured meats? Fruit? I do not think you would appreciate only biscuits."

Thranduil was vaguely amazed to see that she could begin a sentence at the kitchen stove and speak its final words while peering into the depths of the wood stove. Crumbling some newsprint and taking a bit of kindling, she began to coax it back to life.

"I would enjoy two eggs, and porridge. Allow me to care for the wood stove."

His voice was kind, yet commanding. Looking at him, she abandoned what she was doing without protest. While she measured out the grain for the porridge, she shook her head. A lifetime of living alone had left her very unaccustomed to negotiating assorted minutiae with a partner. It felt strange, too, to want to do as he asked. Where did that come from? She was notoriously single-minded and determined, with no small streak of stubbornness. She frowned, as she stirred in the salt and water, and a tiny bit of sugar, setting it on the range to heat.

"It is from having accepted me as your lover, Earlene."

The frown did not leave her face, as she stirred the porridge. "I am not complaining, I agreed to everything. But I still do not understand. Is it something that allows you to sway me, from without? Or is it that something from you has changed something within me?"

"The latter. You are experiencing the emotional component of being bound to me. While you are still able to oppose me, if you wished to put your mind to it, your feelings are inclined now to harmonize with my wishes. And my feelings are inclined to please you, as well. Though I experience this with less intensity than you, it is present."

"Too bad humans don't have that," she quipped, as she digested what he'd told her. "I can only imagine what would happen to the divorce rate."

"Divorce?"

"Divorce, my Lord, when one or both parties of a wedded couple decides to dissolve their marriage, and go their separate ways." She saw the look of bafflement on his face. "From what you have told me, Thranduil, it seems to me that humans do not always live with each other in anything remotely approaching the harmony of elves. I would have been out of a job, if human nature were different."

She made them tea, and served him his food. Reheating a few biscuits for herself in the microwave, she slathered shameless amounts of butter and honey on them as he watched in amusement. It was impossible, to not get honey all over the hand she used to eat them with. When she finished her biscuit, she found that her arm was caught like lightning. Apparently, his talents included the ability to move swifter than her eye could follow. Bringing her fingers to him, he enjoyed himself by licking all the honey off. Flushing slightly pink at the recollection of her desires, she could hardly blame him for wishing to enjoy the honey on her skin. Amused, she finished her small portion of porridge while he indulged himself. When he released her, with a mischievous expression lingering on his face, she began to wash up. Nudging her laptop open, she looked at the screen while she cleaned the dishes.

"More rain today," she said. "And later, Ian will probably come by to check in."

"Ian?" Thranduil's eyebrows raised.

"I hired the services of a local man, to care for certain matters while I am adjusting to life here. Firewood, for one, and caring for any needed repairs or requests for supplies. I have no transportation here, aside from a bicycle. He is to come, every other day. Come to think of it, about the only thing he said to me was to warn me off from cutting your trees. Are you known to the villagers, my Lord?"

"Lore in these lands is a persistent thing, " he said. "It is safe to say that there is a belief in this area, that a power dwells in these woods. Few of them ever set foot inside. And those that have, were suitably encouraged to depart. They most certainly will not come here to cut firewood," he said vehemently. "Outsiders have come as well, dark-hearted men looking to prey on others. They...lost themselves in here, shall we say?"

"I find it interesting, that not a whisper of any of this found its way to me, for all the tenacity with which those working for me researched this region."

"Would it have stopped you from coming here, if it had?" he said, his blue eyes looking at her intently.

She grinned, determined to tease him. "Not in the least. I don't believe you exist, remember?" As she said it, she took and kissed his hand.

He chuckled, but then his face became more earnest. "It is time, then, to challenge your thinking once more. Come." Rising, he donned a cloak that he had draped over her wingback chair. While she had seen the fabric, she had not realized what it was. Looking outside, she saw the overcast sky that would turn to rain, and went to the wardrobe to retrieve her coat.

"You will not need more garments, Earlene. I will not allow you to become cold."

Turning right back around, she returned to him. He brought her under his cloak, holding her close against him, and offered his arm. As they walked into the woods, he explained. "As you already know, I can influence what your kind can see. The entrances to my Halls are impossible to detect, unless I allow it. We now walk the pathway leading there, though, you will not need to come and go without me for the foreseeable future. The gates will become visible to you, though another human standing next to you would see nothing but trees. Once there, you may see some of my other subjects. They will appear in different degrees of transparency; that is what fading does. I did not appear to you until I was fully restored, because your mind was not prepared to see an elf; much less one that was partly faded. But I believe you are ready, now.

Soon, I will begin the restoration of my people. I have decided that it is time for us to learn again of the outer world. Your kind has changed in the last century, beyond anything I could have imagined. You will help us to understand, when the time comes."

"This is what you could not tell me, before?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Do you wish to mention any of those other things, my Lord?"

He chuckled. "I can only imagine what a formidable verbal opponent you must have been, in your profession, meluieg."

"Thranduil, what is it that you keep calling me, 'meluieg' ? I remember in the night you held me during my sleep, and you were speaking in a language I have never heard."

"It means 'sweet one', just as I call you in your own tongue. And, that would be a very large one of those Other Things, Earlene. I require you to learn our language, Sindarin, as quickly as possible."

How she did not see that one coming, she would never understand. Sure god, she hoped it wasn't worse than Irish, that she had no desire to learn. Or Latin. She'd pitted herself against that one when she was an undergraduate, and beginning to seriously consider law school. Either way, rolled r's were apparently about to be in her future, for which she was now glad of her three years of high school German.

"Yes, my Lord." She thought for awhile. "Do you have texts that explain the rules of pronunciation and the grammar, in English?"

"I am afraid not. You have only me, and the other elves."

"Thranduil, do any of the others speak English?"

"No, meluieg, no one has fluency besides me. Though my seneschal, Thanadir, has some knowledge of your tongue."

"Do you have writing, and is the alphabet the same as English?"

"Yes, we write, and no, it is not the same."

"With your help, I should be able to outline a format of rules that I can use to learn...but please, my King, be patient with me. And if you could procure even a small sample of the writing, that would help me. Best of all would be if you have materials that you use to teach young children literacy, if such things exist." Looking up at him, she thought she caught a nod of agreement.

When they had continued on for what felt like at least a half hour, a descending pathway led them to a mouldering stone bridge that looked ancient beyond words. It crossed over a slowly flowing stream that ran below. The stonework was almost difficult to make out, due to the preponderance of lichens and rotted leaves that caused it to blend in with the forest floor.

"At one time, that stream was a rushing river," he intoned wistfully. "Further on, it joins another stream that still carries a enchantment of sleep. I will advise you not to touch the waters in these woods, until you have learned them well. It is another of our protections against the outside world. You are seeing, now, Earlene, what any human coming to this place would see. And I now grant that you will see the gates of my Halls, as we do."

A shimmering veil seemed to fall from her vision, and she saw that the bridge was not mouldering after all. It was wrought of finely carved granite, bright and clean. Yet it was the sight of what lay beyond, that plunged her heart into turmoil. What had appeared to be an ordinary hillside was really an immense portico sheltering a towering entryway, supported by ornate columns that ascended from a mighty platform of stone. Massive doors were centered between the pillars, ornamented with stunning metalwork that had long weathered to verdigris. Each column base and capital mimed the appearance of interlacing trees; even the shafts were carved in a semblance of their trunks. The columns, together with the intricate design of the door, created an illusion of approaching an avenue through a vastness of trees. This effect was further reinforced by the matching faux entrances in hammered metal that flanked the main door. Yet more decorative carving created casings over the arches; the sum effect of all this grandeur spoke of a dense forest, access to which was imposingly forbidden.

Her lips parted in amazement as she looked up at her King, suddenly feeling very small. The reality sank in with a crushing weight; his words had not been in exaggeration or jest. He really was a sovereign, and this astounding architectural display, the like of which belonged to the greatest rulers of this world, was likely only the merest expression of his majesty.

He touched her face gently, the palm of his hand against her cheek. "What is inside will seem very overwhelming to you, meluieg. It is a memory of the glory of time long gone by. And yet, it stands because of my power to preserve it. This is also your home, now, though I understand that it will take time for you to accept. My people will be curious about you, especially my seneschal. He is very proper, and I wish to prepare you for the strong possibility that in order to keep his happiness, he will wish to witness you reciting your vows to me, again, before my throne. He will seem to your eyes as a ghost, with immeasurable sternness, and will likely demand this of both of us. Thanadir is my most faithful and trusted servant, and his peace of mind means a great deal to me."

"Will he dislike me?" She could not help but think, that this preamble did not sound encouraging.

"For Thanadir, like and dislike are not in his vocabulary. He swore himself to my service thousands of years ago, and even though we are much diminished, he yet takes his duty very seriously. That I have claimed you, and that all procedural correctness has been cared for; those things will be his concern. He is the closest thing to a legal counsel we have, here. And whereas your knowledge is of the laws of the outer world, Thanadir's task is to administer the affairs of his King, such as they are. Time may have passed us by, here, but we cling yet to our ways and our life in these woods. Though, you will please him greatly, to address him by his proper title of Your Excellency."

He guided her on, toward the gigantic doorway that he called the Great Gates, which opened at a gesture from him.

She called to mind the bottles of wine at home, that she had not yet touched. Today had already provided reason enough to open one, and it had hardly begun. As they passed beyond the threshold into the relatively dim lighting of the interior, she saw the light changing and glanced behind her, to see the gates sealing of their own accord. Their closure shut away the external daylight with a finality that seemed frightening. What ever illusions she had of personal freedoms were stripped away, replaced by the knowledge that she was completely under his authority and control. Though she had already given this to him, it felt very different here, now, than it had in the cozy confines of her home. When she turned forward again, the spectacle in front of her caused her to plant both of her feet and stop.

Thranduil felt her resistance, and allowed it. He would not require her to walk on, until she'd had some time.

For a moment, she stood and stared. And then reflexively, turned to him and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his clothing. What she was seeing was too much, and all the mental discipline she possessed could not take this in, all at once. She needed...a moment.

He returned her embrace, soothing her. "I know this is hard for you, Earlene," he whispered. "You are strong of mind, and have nothing to fear. These are my Halls, of living wood and stone. Once you give them a chance, and your mind adjusts, you will find peace and happiness here."

He felt her nod against him. After not too much longer, she released him, and turned to look again. Trying to manage humor, she whispered, "My Lord, I am afraid that part of the problem was the use of the word 'Hall'. 'Vast and ornate cavern' seems much more accurate, though I recognize that it would be awkward to say."

He chuckled. "I apologize for my failure to better prepare you. Sometimes there is harm in saying too much, and sometimes harm in saying less. It is not my wish to cause you discomfort. Do you feel you can walk on, now?"

"Yes, my King."

He led her on, up and down stone stairs, over curving arches and bridges, and winding paths of both wood and stone. it reminded her of a living cathedral, except that one navigated entirely by walking on flying buttresses instead of the floor below. The splendor and beauty of this vast space was like nothing she had ever imagined, as he led her toward the central feature of the cavern. An immense baldachin of intricately shaped stonework descended from the cavern ceiling, to grace his royal throne. As they approached closer, the elevated seat crowned with the antlers of some mighty creature came into full view...as did the spectral figures of other elves.

Somehow, this did not bother her as she thought it might, for the simple reason that she'd had advanced warning. At this point it simply...was. She saw one of the figures approach them, and bow deeply to Thranduil, not even acknowledging her. This seemed fine; just now, it felt better to be ignored. But the ignoring did not last long. The King began to speak rapidly in, how had he said it, 'SEEN darrr een'? She made out her name, at least once. This must be Thanadir, the seneschal. Thranduil's choice of the word "stern" for him was quite apt. He was handsome in his own way, but no kindness or emotion that she could discern touched his features. She had quickly lowered her eyes, when she saw that Thanadir regarded her. The King stopped speaking in Sindarin, and turned to her.

"Earlene, this is Thanadir, my seneschal."

Seamlessly, she bowed her head deeply and said, "Your Excellency," keeping her eyes lowered. She had no wish to irritate the second elf she met. Much as with her introduction to her firm in New York, abiding by accepted manners went far in trying to make a decent first impression.

"Welcome to our Halls, Earlene," she heard in a different voice, with an accent, and looked up at him in surprise. Even though she had been told he knew some English, she did not expect to hear it. Thanadir now wore a faint smile. This time she looked at him, as she spoke.

"Thank you for your kindness, Excellency." The smile increased a bit more. Averting her gaze again, she heard another flurry of exchange between them.

"Meluieg, as I guessed, Thanadir wishes to formally record your vows. While he would like for this to occur in our language, we both recognize that that would be very difficult at this present time. Unless, you feel you can memorize a short phrase, by way of response?"

Earlene raised her eyes to the King. "You wish me to speak words of agreement in your language, to vows I will not be able to understand? I can remember something short, I believe; but you must give me your word that I will be agreeing to the exact same promises, my Lord." An emphasis, while still respectful, had been placed on the word 'exact.' In her eyes, she had been outmaneuvered by him more than sufficiently, in the short time she had known him. If she conceded anything further to him, she might as well put shackles on herself and walk into a prison cell, if there were such things here.

 _Clever woman_ , thought Thranduil, smiling, as he translated her words to Thanadir.

She saw that a sour look of disapproval came over the seneschal's face as he regarded her, until another torrent of speech from his King erased it, and Thanadir's expression changed to one somewhere between admiration and pity. He replied to Thranduil, and gave a nod of assent to whatever had been said.

"Thanadir finds the condition to be seemly, Earlene. I am going to repeat words that mean 'I will, my King,' three times. See if you can remember them."

While she watched him and listened intently, he reiterated "Athon, i Aran nîn," very slowly. After the third time, he looked at her expectantly. On the first two tries, she stumbled, and he kindly corrected her. What she wouldn't give for an ink pen, to write this phonetically on her hand, she thought, but in the end she managed to master it.

Though partially transparent, Thanadir was apparently solid enough to carry physical objects, because he produced in short order the staff and crown of his King, which Thranduil accepted. He removed the diadem he wore, in order to place this crown on his head. It was like nothing she'd ever seen; a living wreath of interlacing twigs, and leaves. It was lovely, and fitting for a woodland ruler.

Thranduil explained to her what would happen; that he would sit on his throne. She would kneel down below, and that as before, she would respond to what he would ask her. When the questions were done, he would descend and speak his promise to her, and she would kiss his ring. While it was kind of him, almost all of her mental effort was being occupied trying to remember the words he'd taught her.

 _I will help you, Earlene, if you forget,_ she heard in her mind. That alone filled her with relief.

The short ceremony was over in a blink, and she had been able to recall the words on her own. Which was fortunate, as the import of what she was agreeing to was exponentially amplified by being here. As he raised her up, she thought of how she was now very unlikely to ever see America again...not that it had been likely, even before this. For reasons she did not understand herself, her memories of lower Manhattan and its majestic skyscrapers, amidst which she'd lived and worked for so long, surged through her. Long before New York had a single building, this had already been here for thousands of years, and so had he...it was just hard. Hard to wrap one's head around all of this. She felt very close to tears, and she had no wish to give into them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Thanadir taking his leave, and the lovely crown and staff along with it. Replacing his diadem, the King ushered her away from the throne, further toward the back of the cavern. He kept his hand at the small of her back as they walked, both guiding and reassuring her. After winding their way through the interminable labyrinth of passages, or so it seemed to her, he opened a door and led her inside, closing it behind him. This very large and richly appointed set of rooms must be his, she thought.

"You may look at the rooms, meluieg," he said softly. "This is my private home, and is now yours as well." The comparatively confined space felt reassuring, as did the rooms themselves. They smelled of him, which she liked. Though far different than her own dwelling, she did not find the opulence intimidating. The societal circles in which her career had demanded participation had included some of the wealthiest businesspeople in Manhattan. Most of whom, she mused, seemed determine to spend their wealth trying to outdo one another. She had seen bathrooms that could rival his throne, in some respects, not that it mattered. It had interested her, to attend their parties and dinners. She fit in seamlessly, even if she did tire of having to rent expensive clothing for such occasions. It did not do, to be seen in the same dress or designer shoes twice running. Yet there were always ways to get around having to waste unheard of sums of money, and she'd managed to find rather a lot of them.

Accepting his invitation, she walked around. Tables, desks, carpets, chairs, lamps, wall hangings, objects of beauty, bed, books, scrolls. The smallest item to the largest were all of exquisite craftsmanship; most of what was here could find a place of honor in the Metropolitan Museum. The room had a warm ambiance to it, even if the temperature was cooler...she noticed there was an unlit fireplace, so presumably, it could be heated. Moreover, she could likely be content here.

"Remove your clothes, Earlene."

That was not entirely what she expected to hear. _Then again, what was he supposed to say, how do you like the colors of the room?_ Still mentally numb from having to repeat her vows, she did as he asked, pulling the dress over her head. She then removed shoes, and leggings, leaving only what little there was of her bikini underpants.

"You may leave those on; you are going to be measured," he said. Before she could utter a word of protest, Thanadir entered and approached her, with what appeared to be measuring tape and writing tools. She looked at Thranduil with a plea of desperation in her eyes, flushing red at being seen basically nude by another male.

Quickly realizing what was wrong, he went to her, temporarily blocking her from Thanadir's sight. "I did not realize this about you, Earlene, I am sorry. You must understand that elves think nothing of nudity. Thanadir has measured hundreds, if not thousands, of bodies in the course of his duties. I will not force you to do this, now, if you feel you cannot endure it." He leaned down, to kiss her cheek, and then her lips, though it was a light kiss, not one meant to arouse.

"I can manage," she whispered. "I..." he placed a finger over her lips.

"It will not take long, and you will be shown my gratitude," he murmured seductively.

"Please, do not leave me alone," she asked. He nodded, and then stepped aside, gesturing to Thanadir to proceed.

To his credit, Thanadir did nothing at all to create further discomfort for her. He was swift, worked with a professional demeanor, and never looked at her once in a way that made her feel other than that she was as interesting as one of the pieces of furniture in the room. He never once met her eyes. Even the more awkward measures, such as her breasts and her instep, he managed with delicacy. Though at one point, he spoke and was tugging at her foot, and she did not understand.

"He wishes you to lift your foot, and step on the measuring tape, longways and crosswise."

Soon enough it was over, and Thanadir bowed to Thranduil, and withdrew.

"May I dress again?" she asked him, feeling chilly.

"Soon," he said. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed, pulling back the covers and divesting her of her last bit of clothing. Though she did not understand how, the linens felt wonderfully warm, as though they had just come out of the dryer. Covering her, as he disrobed, he smiled at her kindly. "I would not have your memories of your first visit here be ones marked by anxiety and embarrassment, meluieg. I have much to learn about you, to see to your comfort as best I can. With this, I can at least assure that you will have enjoyed one thing."

As he slid in next to her and brought her into his embrace, he spoke again. "I thank you, for what you are giving, Earlene. Do not think me ungrateful."

As his hand lavishly caressed her now warm body, she only had time to whisper, "You are welcome, Thranduil," before his lips closed over hers, making further conversation impossible. For the next half hour, he created an extremely pleasant memory of her arrival. She found that many of her stresses and misgivings melted away, with the gift of his body. Resting after their enjoyments, she began to feel hungry, and realized that lunch was some distance away.

"We will depart soon, meluieg. I too am desiring food."

She was soon dressed, and she waited on him to do the same. He disappeared elsewhere in the rooms for a moment, returning to place a box on a nearby table. Turning to her, he held her chin lightly in his fingers.

"Soon enough, meluieg, you will be interacting with the outer world. I have a gift for you, which I desire you to wear. You are not to remove it, unless I do so for you." He opened the box, which held a necklace.

It was an intricate design that would hang just where her collarbones met. It reminded her a great deal of the pattern on the exterior of his gates, strongly reminiscent of trees and leaves. It was like nothing any ordinary jeweler would ever have made. The craftsmanship was incomparable. But the part that was equally not so ordinary was that it appeared to be made of a small fortune in diamonds, set in white gold or platinum. Earlene honestly did not know whether to thank him, or inform him that wearing this in the outer world was an invitation for every thief on the island to cut her throat in order to steal it.

He chuckled. "You would not go so far afield, unescorted, Earlene. I am sworn to protect you, and would never expose you to danger. This is a far more local matter. Those in the village will see this. There is no clearer message that can be sent, concerning to whom you now belong. I believe you will find that those who live here will more readily help you, and you will not need to ask for discretion or field awkward questions. And, you have a keen eye. It is very old, crafted by the dwarves."

"Thank you, my Lord. It is very beautiful; you honor me." She held her hair aside, as he moved to place it on her. Astonishingly, she could barely feel it, which confused her. Having rented a few expensive pieces in her time, she knew how much such things could weigh, and how grateful she was to have them off at the end of an evening.

He held her by the shoulders, as his eyes bored into hers. "The metal is mithril, Earlene, something that can no longer be obtained in this world. There is nothing lighter, or stronger...or more priceless. Much like the gift of your service to me."

Her lips parted; she did not know how to respond. But he did, having seen it as an invitation. With a last, long kiss from him the conversation was concluded. He gestured for her to leave, and was right behind her. When they reached the gates, Thanadir was there, and shades of others to whom she had not been introduced. The elves were all beautiful, she realized. The King had said, he would restore them? Pausing, she tugged gently back against Thranduil. Turning to Thanadir, she bowed her head. "I am pleased to have met you, Your Excellency," she said, not looking him in the eye. The King raised his eyebrows, unable to conceal a smirk at the subtle look of delight on his seneschal's face. No one else might have noticed a thing, but Thranduil did.

The King made a gesture of parting to those assembled that she did not exactly understand, but which they all returned, before they left through the gates. Given that a shocking downpour greeted them, she was sorry they were not staying here. But lunch was the better part of an hour away, and the stack of emails...

Thranduil procured a second cloak from somewhere within his own; perhaps he had had it draped over his other arm, and she had not noticed? When he fastened it around her, she immediately felt much warmer.

"Earlene, can you run?"

She smiled. "Probably not like you can, but yes, that is one of the ways in which I exercise. Though usually not in a dress."

"Then we will try. I can carry you, just as easily and as swiftly, should you tire."

Furrowing her brow, she started off at a slow jog across the bridge, fairly certain he would have zero trouble keeping up. As she warmed up, she increased her speed, hearing him behind her, until finally settling into her usual pace. The cloak somehow shed the water magically well...and she had to wonder, if magically was exactly the correct term. Things here were not normal, at least to human experience. It was inexplicable, how she seemed to remain warm and dry running through the paths that were becoming muddier by the minute, even her feet.

At this far quicker pace, they reached her home soon enough. When she finally was sure where she was, she sprinted off away from him, laughing for the fun of it, to see how long it would take him, to catch her. Quicker than she would have guessed, she was taken in his arms. He would not put her down, despite her laughing protests, until they arrived at the house. Thranduil held her so that she was raised up taller than him, and she found herself enjoying looking down on him for a change. He was smiling up at her, with sparkling eyes. "Are you having fun, my Lord?" she asked, teasing him. He smiled even wider, in response. The beauty of his face, smiling in this way, dazzled.

And suddenly, she found herself experiencing the first stab of an emotion far stronger than fondness. Without thinking, she held his face and kissed him. When she came up for air, and looked into his eyes again, a flicker of pain crossed her face before she looked away. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to find some equilibrium again.

"Earlene," he whispered, rubbing her back.

She shook her head. "I knew this would happen, my Lord. It was not going to be avoidable. I will do my best, not to be obnoxious. And you are hungry. Set me down, or we will never eat."

Once inside, busying herself at the stove happily distracted her. "I hope you like cheese," she said, as she was well along the preparations for grilled sandwiches. The soup pot had been immediately set to reheat, and now she was slicing up fruit and greens for small salads. And while she was bustling around, she started a Dublin coddle...she'd rather not have to do hours of legal work, and then start thinking ahead about dinner. This could cook for hours, and then she could make a soda bread. Soon enough, a pleased elf was eating lunch. She forced herself to not eat as much, knowing that if she gave into her full hunger, she would never make it through her emails. Starting the kettle as she buzzed around between assembling the coddle and beginning to clean up, she found him at her side, watching.

"How do you do that, Thranduil, move so quickly? If you gave me twenty minutes' head start, you could still catch me before I made it home from your Halls, couldn't you?"

"Perhaps we will have to find out," he teased. "For a human, you run well. It pleases me, that you are physically fit. Many of your kind do not seem to care for their bodies. But I am not standing here, to discuss running. I want to know how I can help you. I do not know how to prepare food, but I could do what you are doing now."

"You want to wash dishes?"

"Your keen analytical mind has an accurate grasp of the circumstances, Earlene."

Her lips parted slightly. Perhaps she had better be careful about teasing him; he was manifesting considerable talent.

Chastened, she placed the coddle in the oven. "Do you need me to explain?"

"I have watched you carefully for some days now. I believe I can manage. And if not, correct me."

"Yes, my King. Would you object to my changing my clothes after I finish here, and may I then work at the computer?"

"You may dress as you wish, and work as long as you do not mind me watching you, once I am finished."

As Earlene pondered the nature of confidentiality agreements, she decided that she a) no longer cared, and that b) if he wished to disrupt the world of domestic finance, it was his own affair. "Of course, my Lord."

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, having followed her reasoning. He was essentially pleased, that she was giving more weight to his simplest requests than what he realized were serious commitments, on her part.

Opening the laptop, and tapping a few keys, she disappeared for a few moments. Returning wearing only the leggings, a long sleeved tunic, and a woolen cardigan, she immediately began organizing her work. Though to be truthful, she had allowed herself a few seconds in front of the mirror, to marvel at the necklace she now wore. She sighed, because no matter how exquisite, it was a collar of servitude, an incessant reminder of her forsaken freedom...and yet how many masters had ever adorned those under them, like this? None came to mind. Leaving her conflicting reflections, she returned to mix the dry ingredients for the bread, and sour the milk.

He watched her flit around the kitchen, as he worked, feeling some concern. What he had felt in her, earlier, was a powerful emotion. _Mortal love_ , he had realized. And that she had understood, she would fall in love with him, and not feel loved in returned. He frowned, recalling what he had told her about this earlier, and what she had said in reply. If the sum of his emotional regard for her was the same as what their kind called love, could he not at least return her sentiment? It would cost him nothing, and he had no wish for her to suffer. He had asked, and would continue to ask, a great deal from her. It was worth consideration.

Finally settling in front of the computer, she had already begun to mutter in the elaborate language of her profession. "...a split emerged among the federal circuits regarding the scope of this class action "tolling" rule. That split, which recently deepened..." After several more minutes of sporadic reading, her fingers began to fly over the keys once again. Eventually he joined her, having finished making the tea for them, and brought his chair near to hers. As he looked on, he realized more and more the complexity of what she did. These were systems that influenced the heart of commerce for millions of those living, and he had seen enough of her thoughts and memories to realize that she had passed beyond ordinary levels of achievements. She was known by the powerful and the wealthy, and honored for her skill. If she were placed in charge of trade for the entire realm of Gondor at the height of its glory, it would have been less demanding than what she had done before coming to him. He was fortunate, and he knew it. He rubbed small circles on her back while she typed, which she seemed to enjoy greatly, from how much she leaned into his touch.

At one point, she stood up. "I have a little more to do, but..." Fishing around in her computer case, she brought out paper tablets and a pen, and placed them in front of him. "Please, would you write out your alphabet for me? Perhaps in columns, with enough space to make notes on the side of them? And then, just some simple words, maybe your name, and what you had me say earlier today for my vows, things like that?"

She saw that he picked up the pen, but appeared perplexed...until she recalled, she had seen Thanadir using a quill and ink. The use of a quill had been interesting to her, but she had been too mortified at the time to comment.

"Like this," she said gently, showing him to remove the cap, and that the ink simply came out of the pen.

He frowned. "Quills may go by the wayside, very quickly. Though, they do allow for finer writing."

"There are many, many choices in pens that are easier than quills, my Lord. I will show you, later on."

By the time she finished her work and closed the computer, he had completed his list. Her eyes widened to see the strange, flowing letters. "Wait. That cannot be..." Rising, she went to the bookshelf, and brought out "The Lord of the Rings," turning once again the pages of the appendices. She found the table entitled "The Tengwar" and returned to him, placing the book next to what he had written.

"Is this the same as your writing?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "How...?"

"I cannot answer you. Though, it was buried in these pages that I learned your name, on accident. I have never read these, outside of flipping a few pages the night I came here. The word 'Lasgalen' caught my attention, just when I was about to return it to the shelf."

Just then the loud rumble of an engine came from outside, and she looked out the window. "Pardon me, Thranduil, Ian is here, and there will probably be wood to offload. I will go help him."

Without waiting for a response, she walked outside to greet the man.

"How are you today, Ian? Enjoying the fine weather?" she teased.

"Sure look it, ma'am. God, it's fierce weather."

She smiled. "Then I'll help you, and you can go and get dry sooner."

Only then did Ian look up enough to see the necklace she wore. His eyes grew larger than saucers. He swallowed, and said nothing, but loaded his arms with wood while she did the same. When they had each taken about two loads of wood, Ian was gathering his third armload when Thranduil made an appearance to help. Ian had overloaded his arms, and one or two pieces were teetering threateningly. Before he could drop them, Thranduil removed them from the stack, to help. Ian saw him, and dropped all the wood, with a look of terror on his face. As Earlene watched, the caretaker knelt before Thranduil.

 _How do they know_ , she wondered?

Fascinated, she waited at a respectful distance as Thranduil raised Ian up, speaking kindly to him.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Ian. You may see me here, from time to time. Now let me help you with your work, so that you can indeed get out of the fierce weather."

This brought a weak smile out of the caretaker. After her past few days, Earlene felt a bit sorry for Ian. She could guess at his shock. As they worked, she saw Ian looking at her, with both concern and wonder. She smiled at him and simply quipped, "Well, no one told me he came with the house." The look of befuddlement on his face was more or less priceless. Soon enough, the job was done.

Removing his cap, Ian said: "I'm gunna head on, ma'am."

"Thank you Ian, I will see you soon," she beamed.

More tea later, she was poring over Thranduil's letters, and decided that a pencil might be in order. Rooting through her case, she found one that was actually sharp. And as she did so, a random thought occurred to her.

"Thranduil, can Thanadir and the other elves see my thoughts, as you do? And...is there a distance at which you do not hear me, if I can ask?"

He answered her in order. "They could, if you wished them to. But without explicit invitation, no one would seek to search your mind in that manner. I operate on a somewhat different level; I am King. If I choose to, I can know the thoughts of any of my subjects. Being mortal, your thoughts are very...discernible, to me. If you are within the borders of my realm, I can hear you. Were you to step outside, you would fade from my hearing."

She nodded, gratified that he would answer her last question. And then something else crossed her mind, equally random. With a jolt, she realized that making assumptions about anything connected to him was perhaps a bad idea.

"My Lord..."

He looked at her, mildly amused. "You are just now considering whether or not I can get you with child, Earlene?"

"Well, yes," she said, embarrassed. "It is not something one generally considers, in dreams. But now...and I do not have any means of birth control with me, here."

"The technical answer is, yes, I can."

She frowned, feeling suddenly very anxious. "And the not-so-technical answer?"

"You would have to desire this, with me, and understand the things that are not the same as for two mortals, before I would allow it. It would be cruel of me, to have asked so much of you, and add a pregnancy to the list of things to which you already must adjust."

Trying to read between his words, she asked carefully, "Are you telling me that while I could conceive from having relations with you, that you have a way of preventing it, unless I inform you that I want to bear your child?"

"Yes, that is correct."

She blinked at him, for both implications of what he'd revealed. She was free, from having to worry about becoming pregnant. But more baffling was that he'd just said, in so many words, that he would be willing to father a child with her. This was not something she would have expected, at all.

"If I can offer you counsel, Earlene, do not think on this more, at present. You see clearly; you do not have to concern yourself with this. And regarding the other, if your heart moves you to know more at a later time, ask again then. There is much that is new to you, now. Enjoy the pleasures of the body, without fear. I am willing to father a child with you, but I do not ask it. While children are seen as a blessing and are cherished by elves, my willingness is in recognition of your sacrifice to me. If motherhood is something you desire, I will not deprive you of it."

Not having ever given it serious thought, she did not know what she wanted. But she did know one thing; the swelling in her heart. Closing the distance between them, she spoke.

"You are generous, and kind, my King, and...I love you, for it. You are right, in that this is not the time for such considerations. But that you would do this, for me..." she shook her head, as she reached her hand to caress the strands of his hair. "Thank you."


	7. Chapter 7

Staring at the pad of paper, and reading the appendices, she could at least see a way to assigning some sound values to the stems and bows that all seemed to look too much alike. "My Lord, please tell me the names of each of these letters?"

He pointed and slowly spoke each name in turn. "Tinco, parma, calma..."

When he had filled her list, she looked at the words he had written. "Which one is your name?"

When he indicated this, Earlene saw right away (after laboriously matching the letters of his name to the chart) that it was not as in English; there was no letter for each sound. There were letters that combined sounds, or other indicators of the values within the word. At least, though, the letters ran left to right.

"It will not please you to hear that there are two, actually three, ways in which these letters are used, meluieg. There are two methods for writing the language as we speak it; in the mode of Beleriand, there are individual letters to make the vowels, much like English. The tehta mode uses a system of extra marks to indicate vowel sounds. We will not even discuss Quenya, though at some point you will need to be aware of it and how it influenced Sindarin. You could easily use the Tengwar to write your own language, meluieg. The script allows for many kinds of sounds."

Earlene decided to ignore that last part, for the time being. "So you are telling me that there is more than one language of elves, that uses this lettering system?"

She frowned, as she saw his nod, and wondered something. "Excuse me, for a moment." Returning to the computer, she entered 'Sindarin' into the search engine. Her jaw slackened, at the number of returns.

"You have got to be kidding me," she muttered. There were grammars and online courses and hundreds of websites devoted to everything about this language of his. _Even calligraphy instructions_ , she noted with incredulity. _For a language that allegedly did not exist?_

It was, if possible, even more bizarre than her own bond to the King, in her eyes. She sat back, thinking, and decided she was obviously missing important information. "My Lord, would you be willing to make us some tea? Please?" Her eyes looked at him hopefully, through her bafflement.

He did not mind the request, as he saw that it was made very politely, and she in no way expected it. She was following some string of discovery and did not wish to break her train of thought, though she wanted tea. It would be much in his interest, not to mention courtesy, to do something so simple for her. "Yes, meluieg, I would."

With a look of thanks, she immediately turned back to the search engine. This time, she searched "The Lord of the Rings." Quickly she found that elaborate films had been made of the books, all of them, that were well regarded and appeared to have a considerable popular following. Perhaps she actually did recall that...seeing billboards, or whatnot, but she'd had little time to follow entertainment culture. _Forget the books, for now_ , she thought. _In a day of watching, I can learn far more, faster._

And just before the laptop closed, she saw one last email come through..."My things will arrive here the day after tomorrow, my Lord. Faster than I expected", she said, happily.

Walking to the television, she sat in the chair and turned it on, looking at her options. The simplest thing would be to simply pay to stream these. She decided to watch them in the order of their release. In under three minutes, she has the first one cued up, extended versions, with subtitles. If she was going to spend the time on this, it would be done properly.

The tea was ready, and he offered it to her, looking up at the screen that now glowed with an image, to his astonishment. Obviously, this was new for him. Explaining the television and the concept of films for storytelling, she outlined her discoveries, and that she felt determined to educate herself in this manner.

"There are many hours of this. Almost an entire day. If it does not interest you, I understand. Though, you could tell me much, I think, if you would watch with me. I can stop the film at any time, to ask you questions or for you to tell me something. I believe this will help considerably, to teach me about the world from which you came in a shorter amount of time."

"I will watch with you, Earlene, if only because I have never seen the like."

With that consent, after they were seated next to each other with her held in his embrace, she started the movie.

In the first few seconds, a female spoke in whispered tones: "I amar prestar aen, han mathon ne nen..."

"That is Sindarin," she heard him whisper. "How is this possible?" Not five minutes later, a great battle scene was shown, and she felt him tremble beneath her. Looking up to see his stricken face, she paused it.

"Thranduil, what is wrong?" she asked carefully, kindly. He did not answer for some moments, and appeared to be seeking to master himself. She waited, until finally he spoke.

"Though you have explained that this is a portrayal, I was not prepared for how convincing this feels, to look upon. Earlene, my father died, fighting in this battle at Dagorlad, which lasted for months. I was there as well. When he fell, it was left to me to lead the remnant of our people to safety, and assume my father's rule. Two thirds of our warriors lost their lives there, on the accursed plains near to Mordor. It was so long ago, and yet..." he trailed off.

Earlene said nothing, but turned to embrace him tightly. She did not need to confirm with him, whether these things had actually happened. They obviously had been real, in some other place and time. If all this was the case, he had indeed lived through unimaginable spans of years. Though she wondered, she doubted she could comprehend the sorrows he had likely known in his life. As she held him, she fervently hoped that there had been joys as well. It felt a little like trying to understand the universe...it was so much bigger than anything she was accustomed to considering.

He perceived the sorrow in her mind, that he had suffered this loss and had seen a painful reminder, and was deeply touched. He kissed her brow, in gratitude, smiling. "I am well, Earlene. Please, continue."

A little later on, she heard, "Bilbo Baggins!? The halfling had this thing?" She listened diligently to both Thranduil and the film, as she tried to follow all that was said and done. Sometimes he would make a clucking sound of disapproval, when something was not right, accompanied by outbursts like "Glorfindel saved the halfling, not Arwen."

Not much further on, she learned that her King had a son, long ago, who had eventually departed for Valinor, as well...and that there had indeed been love and marriage between humans and elves.

He became very excited when the characters were to enter a place called Moria, and made her stop in order to pay attention to a doorway that was shown in the film. For five minutes he narrated about the elf who made the silver lettering that glowed by moonlight (whereby he would not continue until she could say "ithil" [moon] and "ithilden" [the very precious and rare material that allowed the lettering to shine by moonlight, made from the same metal as her mithril necklace] correctly). And that this same elf, Celebrimbor, had also made the elven rings of power shown at the beginning of the film. Then he proceeded to slowly read the words of the gate,"Ennyn Durin Aran Moria...What does 'aran' mean, Earlene?"

Whereas her eyes had been about to glaze over, trying to keep up with his torrent of information, she now felt his intense scrutiny. How was she supposed to know? Yet logic quickly took over as she looked down, trying to reason. _He would not ask me, if I could not know; the only thing I could know is what little he taught me today._ Frowning, she struggled to remember what he'd made her memorize to say her vows. _Wasn't 'aran' one of the words?_ But he had never broken the sentence down for her...yet the choice which seemed the most likely was 'king'.

"Very good," he said, smiling, and electing to take pity on her by resuming his seat. As the film continued, she felt awkward, to hear again about mithril. As her fingers ran over the necklace, the wizard character told of the staggering value of this metal. Thranduil had not been exaggerating, when he called his gift priceless.

She did not like the orcs, nor the cave troll. They were foul, awful looking things that reminded her more of cockroaches than anything else. The balrog earned a pause of the film. "Please tell me, my Lord, that there were not such things as these."

He stroked her hair. "I cannot do that, for they were real. There were once armies of them. The world into which I was born was one of great strife, against evils such as this...and worse."

Looking at him, she considered. "You were a warrior, once, and fought in this manner?"

He nodded, smiling. She already had dozens of questions, and suspected it would only get worse. Rising for a moment, she mixed the bread for dinner and added it to the oven, checking the liquid in the coddle while she was at it...and set the timer on her computer. While she did so, she asked more. "You were like your son, skilled with a bow?"

"No, meluieg, and yes. All of us had some skill at all weapons. Legolas was a great archer. My preferred weapon was the sword."

Determined to complete the film without further interruption, she resolved not to pause it again unless the request came from Thranduil. Which was fortunate, because the sight of yet another elven realm had her wondering why their modes of living were so different...Rivendell, Lorien...they were so unlike his Halls and yet still felt distinctly elvish, if these representations were accurate. And given how much he liked to mention that which was inaccurate, she felt they must be generally correct. The elves were an elegant race that apparently brought a refined beauty, in harmony with nature, to whatever they touched. She nestled against him.

When the film was done at last, she did not know what to think. So much in this story was unexpected, wonderful, tragic, exquisite, and horrifying. _Then again, was that so different from the world that was familiar to her?_ She rolled her eyes. There were only five more films of similar length remaining. Leaning back into him, she did not wish to move, but the alarm would go off at any moment. Taking just a little more time to enjoy his embrace, she turned to look on him. "You are hungry, my Lord?"

With his eyes sparkling with good humor, he nodded, before kissing her brow. "I feel I owe you something of an apology, meluieg. I have learned something, from seeing this, though not what you might think." He continued, through the frown of puzzlement that knitted her brows together. "When I first met you, I felt disdainful, of your inability to easily embrace that which lay outside your experience. And yet in the face of the technology you use so readily, I find myself struggling in the same way. That your kind possess the ability to craft and transmit images such as what you have shown me...even as I watched, I found it very hard to accept. I am forced to see that I apparently share the same limitations. I ask your pardon, for thinking less of you, when I had no right to do so."

Tilting her head slightly, she deconstructed his words. "You have my pardon, though it is not an exact parallel, Thranduil. As a human I am a lesser being than you, with fewer capabilities and greater limitations. But I appreciate it, to hear you say this. If I may speak freely, my Lord, you are unusual in my experience, though I recognize that I can only view your actions through the lens of encounters with others of my own kind. You have beguiled me, and yet even as you were doing this you showed, and continue to show, an honest humility that I have never seen in someone of great authority. Most seek to maintain their power, by never admitting to any flaws. Yet by openly declaring your consideration of those beneath you, you gain greater allegiance. I count myself fortunate, to belong to such as you." Kissing his hand in reverence, she only now noticed that he had left his ring behind, in his own rooms.

Before he had time to digest what she had just said, a jangling noise emitted from the computer.

"Dinner." Rising, she stopped the noise and served him in a flurry of activity. When all was in order, she retrieved a bottle of red wine, opening it. Looking at the label was pointless, as she knew nothing of the vintages available here; she only felt encouraged to see that the bottle had a cork and not a screw-cap; the latter rarely signaled anything good.

A search of the cabinet yielded something that could pass for a wine glass. A cursory sniff of the bottle revealed that there might be hope, as did pouring out the rich, dark red liquid into the glass. A further sniff, and taste, caused her eyebrows to raise in surprise. "Solidly above average," she said, "which I would not have guessed. May I offer you wine, Thranduil?"

Though she only noticed as she was sampling the vintage, his eyes had followed her activities with rapt attention. "Please," he intoned hopefully.

Searching for another glass, she spotted one that was even more suitable, on a shelf just out of her reach. "Bother," she muttered, looking for a means by which to not have to climb on the countertop. An arm over her shoulder gently restrained her, as he easily reached the item she wanted.

"You are to ask me for help, Earlene. I do not expect, or desire, to only be served by you."

While she washed the glass he had handed her, she explained. "It is not only a question of serving you, Thranduil. My kind have customs of hospitality. You are a guest in my home, though, come to think of it, questions of ownership have become fuzzy indeed...but the point is, no matter who you were, I would feel obligated to provide for your comfort as best I can. That being said, I will do as you ask." She smiled as she filled his glass, and hers.

He accepted her words, and the wine. His generous sampling of the glass and ensuing pleased expression amused her. Clearly, he liked wine. Idly, she wondered how many bottles were here...and that was not the only pantry item that needed addressing. They ate once again in silence; she noted that he seemed to prefer this, at least until the greater portion of his hunger was satisfied. Waiting, she watched for an appropriate time to speak to him.

"You may converse with me if you wish, Earlene. This is my habit, because of endless years of eating alone."

"I did not realize," she said, "obviously. I need to understand some practical matters, my Lord. It would be wise, for me to go shopping in the village tomorrow, for food. You said that you will not keep me a prisoner in these woods. Does that mean I may come and go as I please?"

"Largely, yes. In the village, you are still under my protection. While I do not mean to keep you caged, your welfare is now my duty. If you were to need to travel further, other arrangements would need to be made to ensure your safety...and hopefully you will consent to give me at least another week, to make those arrangements possible."

She pressed on. "Based on Ian's reaction to you, I am wondering what I may encounter from the others here. What am I to say, to questions about...me, you, and all of this? These people seem to know perfectly well who you are, or he would not have kneeled to you."

"You will not reveal anything concerning my Halls. Their existence is secret and it will remain thus; this is my greatest command to you. They believe elves haunt the woods, and they have awareness of a tall elf King with blue eyes and fair hair. You are not the first to ever see me, and the tales have passed along. There are carven stones, near the edge of the woods, bearing the same design as on your necklace. They will not ask you; that you wear it will signify in their eyes that I have taken you for my own. You are clever, and quick witted. You may answer questions about me as you see fit, though I think you already see the wisdom of saying less, if you wish for them to not flee the room.

You are free to come and go, in part, to slowly establish my willingness to no longer remain hidden from the villagers, and that I mean them no harm. You may befriend them if you choose to. They do not enter my woods, and we have not left our woods in long years. I would like to explore establishing discreet relations with them, over time. I showed myself to Ian for a reason; I wished to make a test of the encounter. I am still considering these, and many other matters."

"I will keep your command, as I have promised to," she replied, "and thank you for the clarification." She paused. "One of the things I must care for is establishing myself with the health care system here, and a physician..."

Thranduil held up his hand, smiling. "You may do as you wish with regard to the formalities, but you will have no need of a physician. You are under my care. The day will come when your body can no longer renew itself; I cannot overcome your mortality. But I can likely provide you many extra years, by keeping you free of sickness and injury."

"I thought something like that might be the case, but needed to be certain. One more question, my Lord, concerning me. It was my intention, coming here, to grow fruits and vegetables, perhaps even keep food animals. I find myself in the odd position of having purchased land that apparently does not belong to me, though I must still pay taxes on it," she frowned, "the point being, do you object to what I wish to do? "

He laughed at her attempts to tackle this awkward and convoluted subject in a respectful manner, and reached out to touch her affectionately. "You may do these things, Earlene. And if you would wait but a short time, perhaps two weeks, before executing your plans, we will help you. I have no objection to raising food. We will in fact need to do this; soon there will be many requiring food...but I have seen how your kind go about these things...ugly fences and strange constructs that are not pleasing to the eye. I believe you will find that we can teach you many things, and perhaps the other way around as well."

This sounded completely intriguing, indeed. "And now, I have a questions about you. You seem interested in our technology. Do you wish to learn to use a computer, and other such devices? If you truly want to understand the modern world, the need to do this on your part will be as unavoidable as your requirement for me to learn the language of your realm. Except," she smiled, "that I cannot compel you to do anything."

He did not hesitate. "I will learn, if you will teach me. I will not ask you or the others to acquire new knowledge, and be unwilling to lead by example.

"Then I will purchase a computer for you, my Lord; you will need one of your own. One other thing, and then I am done for now. Do you wish me to procure clothing for you, that belongs to the modern world? I did not know if it was your intention to remain hidden or to interact with other humans. Your appearance is striking regardless of your clothing, but in elven garments you will be far more conspicuous. Though, some of what I have seen you wear could be suitable."

"You will show me examples of what is required. Those among us who make clothing are very skilled, and should be able to imitate anything worn here using our own fabrics. I have not mentioned this previously, but there are vast stores within my Halls of many things, Earlene. At one time we numbered in the tens of thousands, and were provisioned accordingly. Within a short span of time long ago, many departed for Aman, leaving those few of us that remained with a great plenty. In the time before we faded, we used little enough of our reserves, and then had no further need of it. Our material goods remain preserved; they are unaffected by the passage of time. So whether it be food or fabric, there is much that we already have...though fresh vegetables are not among them."

"Then it will be as you wish." She felt considerable amusement, and stifled a smile.

His eyes narrowed, as her thoughts were muddied enough that he could not easily piece out what she found so humorous. "What entertains you so, Earlene?" he asked.

"You, my Lord. When you wanted me to vow loyalty to you, I asked you what was in it for me. There are a number of things that I have learned from this discussion that would have been strong incentives for me to do as you wished, and yet you did not mention them. It is a strange manner in which to bargain."

He stood up and came close to her, drew her to her feet, and held her gaze. His face became grave, and sincere. He spoke softly, with a diction so carefully crafted that she could not miss the emphasis he placed on his words: "Perhaps I needed to see that your choice came largely from your heart, and not because of what inducements I could offer you."

She studied him for a long time, without looking away. "You are full of surprises, Thranduil. How strange, and how wonderful, to have met you."

"I feel much the same about you, Earlene. And now I will wash these dishes, while you enjoy the remainder of your wine."

Pulling her laptop toward her, she was happy to comply. And she'd even put the time to his use, out of appreciation. In between sips, she began a flurry of internet searches, and created lists of bookmarks. One folder for Sindarin, and another for Tengwar. Her eyebrows raised at the eighty-seven page online PDF file, that was a self-contained grammar book...and it was not the only one. Downloading the files, she kept searching. By the time the wine glass was empty, she had corralled a formidable array of references. With this information, and access to a native speaker, she felt confident that she could succeed...in time. Her printer would arrive the day after tomorrow. Closing the screen, she sighed. It was a quarter before nine...just early enough that bed was not fully justifiable, and just late enough that another film just shy of four hours seemed imposing. Though, there was this thing called the Pause button.

"You will be happier with yourself if you spend the time asking me your questions about what you saw, meluieg. Then perhaps you will better absorb whatever comes next." He had finished, and offered his hand to her. "Prepare for bed. I will behave myself, for a time, and explain whatever you wish."

She looked up and thought, _perhaps you bargain well after all_. Her reward was his brilliant smile and rich laughter.

Once they were propped up against the pillows, with her held against his warmth, she heard, "Ask, now," in his velvety baritone.

"This Sauron...what was he, exactly?

"In the beginning, Eru Iluvátar, the creator, made the Ainur. They are the spirit beings. The Valar had greater powers, and the Maiar had lesser powers, but both were of the Ainur. Sauron was one of the Maiar, and among the strongest of their kind. One from among the Valar turned to wickedness; he was called Melko, though he has several names; Morgoth being the most well known. Sauron served Morgoth. His full history is long, and filled with grief for all those who listened to him. Suffice to say that cunning, deception, despair and cruelty were his greatest weapons. He was a terrible foe, and I and my people suffered greatly on account of his deeds."

"Did you ever visit these other places where elves lived, Rivendell, Lorien? Did they look anything like what was shown? Why are your Halls and their homes all so different from each other?"

"That is a big answer," he chuckled. "Perhaps I will give a longer explanation later. But you need to understand, I never possessed one of the three rings of power given to the elves. Though I am now grateful, at the time I was not. Elrond of Rivendell and Galadriel of Lorien did have rings, and their power helped keep their lands safe and beautiful at a time when my own realm fell under shadow and darkness. We endured, in the safety of my Halls...but only just. Mithrandir, the one also called Gandalf, in time possessed the third ring. And yet, Elrond and Galadriel were neither King nor Queen. There were different kinds of elves, Earlene, and my people are a mix of grey elves and wood elves; Sindar and Silvan. Just as the countries of this world have different cultures, so it was with elves."

She nodded. "You had only one son, my Lord? Or were there other children?"

His voice lowered. "There was only Legolas. His name means, 'Greenleaf.' He led a very different life than I did, and accomplished great things. He was gentle and kind, like his mother. Yet, he had my sense of duty. I loved him, and I love him still."

There was a fierceness and intensity to his words that made his answer physically difficult to hear; she felt a crushing pressure on her chest that made it hard to breathe, for the brief seconds he spoke of his son. It was as if something poured out of him in her direction, and threatened to bury her beneath it. _Perhaps this is what he meant, about love amongst most elves, and why he cannot love me. Maybe their love burns too intensely for those not of their own kind, and to be exposed to it would be like setting a delicate plant to wither under a desert sun._

Thranduil looked down at her, resting against him, astonished. "Earlene, you are insightful to a degree that I did not believe possible, for a daughter of men. You have grasped this, with great clarity."

She lifted her head to look at him, trying to absorb all of this. And then, very briefly, he saw the flicker of pain cross her eyes, once again. Lowering her head, she held onto him more tightly, and closed her eyes. She was refusing to think, refusing to feel.

"Earlene, look at me."

 _Please, not just now. Please._

"I will allow it. I only wished to tell you, that I have considered your words to me. I can tell you that I love you as one of your own kind would, Earlene, because that is true. And unless I am much mistaken, you are feeling pain now, because you believe you will never hear me say these words to you. Do not suffer, Earlene, on account of this. Your heart has great depth and purity, and I do love you. Be at peace." His hand began to trace slow circles around her back, as her mind whirled in circles.

She remained silent for some time. "I am trying to recall the last time someone said anything to me, to which I could not form a response. It feels very strange, to have every thought and feeling laid bare to another. You could use your mastery over me very differently, if you chose. I will work that much harder for you, not out of compulsion, but out of love. Thank you, Thranduil, for your kindness in telling me this."

"I was not always as I am now, meluieg. Once I was cold, indifferent, and bitter beyond words. I might still argue that I have certain tendencies toward those things. I have tried to learn, and do better."

"I believe you have had a good measure of success," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "The next time I am seduced by a different elven king, I will let you know how you rank by comparison."

His eyes widened, as he took a moment to work out what she'd said, before chuckling with appreciative laughter. Questions about Middle Earth saw no further progress, as a long arm with flawless skin reached to switch off the lamp.


	8. Chapter 8

Soft kisses on her shoulder woke her to a voice that said: "You have much to do today, Earlene, and so do I. Can your King plead with you for an early breakfast?"

Ever so slightly perturbed about having been woken, she was sorely tempted to ask him if she was going to be served any sausage, and swiftly decided to abandon the notion. The coarse subway banter of New York City, that she'd so often heard as thousands of commuters tossed colorful sayings around the porcelain tiled tunnels, was not appropriate here. She did not see his puzzled frown as he heard the thought, but did not understand the reference...it was just as well. Rubbing her eyes, she simply replied, "Yes, my Lord," which was a far wiser response.

Knowing she would go to the village today, she elected to wear her hair up in the elegant pinned French twist that had been a staple of her legal career. Reasoning that she would choose a better outfit after the bath that she could defer for now, she dressed in yesterday's clothing in order to facilitate breakfast. Not much later, the singing kettle shrieked over the noises of bacon and eggs sizzling in a skillet. Thranduil looked out the window at the early morning sunshine, his hands clasped behind his back. It was difficult not to melt a little, watching the outline of his attractive and powerful physique from across the room. But if she'd been awakened, there were better things to do besides admire the sight of him.

"My King, would you like to start with the computer? Perhaps you could look and tell me the weather for today?"

Turning, he held his chin up at that particular angle she was learning to associate with determination on his part. He walked over to the machine resting on the countertop, looked at it, then looked up at her. The flicker of uncertainty on his usually confident face was...charming to see.

"You have seen how to open it, by nudging the cover of it upward? These devices are not frail like glass, but neither can they withstand very rough treatment. I definitely do not advise dropping them on the floor." She recalled with annoyance the occasion on which exactly that had happened, forcing her to purchase a new computer. His agile fingers were able to open it easily.

"There are two main components in front of you; the screen and the keyboard. Take a moment to look at the little images on the screen. Those are called 'icons', and are much like bookshelves in a library; they each lead to far more information or capability. You are looking most for an icon in the shape of a sun, or clouds; it will usually have a number underneath it. The smaller device on the counter is called a 'mouse'..."

In this manner she guided him through several items of computer terminology. He swiftly mastered clicking and double-clicking, and she patiently explained all the things every knowledgeable user takes completely for granted. Fortunately, his manual dexterity had never been in doubt, which increased the speed of his learning. Earlene also swiftly found, to her fascination, that he had a virtually infallible memory. While her own was very good, it paled by comparison. She only had to say something once; he did not forget new words or concepts. Questions only came when he did not understand a given thing. That was deeply impressive, and added a new layer of regard for him, in her estimation. The net result of the short lesson was that it would be partly cloudy all day, with almost no chance of rain.

Not feeling particularly hungry after last night's substantial dinner, she forced down two eggs and enjoyed her tea while she watched him eat heartily. "Am I correct in inferring you will return to your Halls today, my Lord?"

Thranduil nodded. "I will return to you within an hour after the sun sets, sweet one. You still intend to procure food in the village, today?"

"Yes. Which is why it would be a good time to tell me if you have enjoyed particular dishes, so that I can be sure to have more of the ingredients? I already worked out that you enjoy wine," she said, smiling.

"I have liked everything, meluieg. And soon enough, my own kitchens will return to life. Perhaps, you might keep the thought in mind today to explore purchases of larger amounts of fresh produce in the near future?"

Earlene reflected. "What do you mean by 'larger amounts,' my King? How many persons to feed, per day?"

"Two hundred, would be a good working figure," he said. Her eyebrows shot up.

"I will make some inquiries if possible...but I can see I will need more information from you before I can pursue this in earnest. Including compensation...I have adequate resources, but I am not certain how long I can sustain purchases of that size, on your behalf."

He chuckled. "You will not need to pay for anything, Earlene, though you may have to assist us to change our wealth into the currency of this world. I am King, meluieg. I am not poor."

She flushed red. "Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that..."

In a blur, he was silencing her with his finger. "I know, sweet one. You were trying to be helpful, and solve a problem. There is much yet that you do not understand, but will in time."

"Yes, my Lord." She still felt vexed, at her abysmal choice of words, but said no more.

Having finished his meal, he stood, and regarded her. Feeling suddenly awkward at remaining seated, she rose as well, out of respect. He leaned down to kiss her, coming very close to provoking her desire. He seemed to realize it, and released her. With his hand against her cheek, he took his leave of her until the evening. She bowed her head to him, and watched as he swiftly disappeared into the woods. Pulling on a coat, she walked outside as well...but in the other direction, trying very carefully to think of only inane things like the siding on the house, or the condition of the roof shingles. Soon she was past the beech tree, and therefore, outside of his realm. It took only a few moments to find a secluded place to sit, out of sight of the road. A fairly desperate desire to think without her thoughts being monitored had come over her, as she placed her head against her bent knees. Her hand traveled up to her neck, to rest on his necklace. Otherwise known as, the extremely visible stamp of his ownership. _What had she done?_ Absent his proximity and influence, a torrent of doubt and regret filled her.

The events of the past...how many days had it been? flew in the face of every bit of how she had lived her entire life. Careful, calculating, shrewd, prudent...and if any of those qualities had had a place in the agreements she had made since coming here, she could not quite see it. _I have utterly given away my freedom, and my choices,_ she thought. _What would happen if I retrieved my purse and bicycle, and rode back the way I came?_ Closing her eyes tightly, she already knew the answer to that. _I would never be free of wanting him, of wondering whether I should have stayed, and my solemn word would be proven worthless._

She shook her head. "Look at me," she now whispered aloud, to herself. "I need to do something as simple as shopping, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be, because I no longer have what every other person around me does. I no longer belong to myself. People here will look on me like I am...branded. I _am_ branded, it just happens to be a very pretty brand. How did I let this happen? Why didn't I at least wait, make him wait, for the last of it?" She looked up to the sky, and then back down at her feet. "It is too late for all of these questions. You can ask them of yourself all day, and the answers will change nothing. You agreed, you promised, and he will hold you to it."

Still the dialogue continued. "Does he really love me, and do I really love him? Or is it just another part of a game, a contest, a battle of wits? I am no better off than a trapped animal. He has too many abilities, too much power, and all the control. Maybe this will be alright in the end. I just feel so...afraid. How do I trust someone who was not fully honest with me from the beginning?" She snorted. "He was fully honest about being duplicitous. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Flopping back in the damp grass, she continued to look at the sky. "It won't matter in the least. He will return tonight, and all of these considerations will evaporate, the first moment he touches me." And then she thought further. "He has apologized to me. Gone out of his way to be courteous. Offered...to give me a child, if I wish it. I do not know whether I am the luckiest person in the world or the biggest fool, and the most to be pitied. Maybe I am both, all at once. And only time will tell."

She rose, sighing. "Well, if nothing else, that all needed to come out, I suppose. And now the property of the Elvenking should organize her day," she muttered. "No, actually, forget that. I want a hot bath."

While the steaming tap ran full open into the tub, she began a shopping list. Several cabbages, apples, wine. Extra bread, because right now, whiskey bread pudding sounded spectacular. Buttermilk, milk, butter, more fruits and vegetables, depending on what was there. She hadn't seen tapioca, or rice in the pantry, either, those would be nice. And perhaps some shortening, she was not going to use butter so much for crusts...and had half a mind for making Cornish pasties. Her mouth watered, at the thought of the flaky pastries stuffed with succulent meat and vegetables. Powdered milk might also be a sensible baking resource. Meats, perhaps a chicken to roast, or some beef. More eggs.

That seemed like enough for now, so she disrobed. The necklace could be fully viewed, now. She turned it around, on herself, looking at the part that clasped behind her. Even if she wanted to take it off, she could not see how; it appeared seamless. But as removing it was out of the question, it really did not matter; the instruction to leave it on had been a clear command. Shrugging, she added some lavender oil to the water and proceeded to soak her cares away, kneading at the muscles of her shoulders. For good measure, she massaged her feet, too, sighing with enjoyment. Feeling better, she scrubbed her face, and moved on to other things. Finding her makeup, she applied what little she used...just a small amount of foundation to even out the skin around her eyes and nose, a little translucent powder, mascara. The tiniest bit of liner and shadow enhanced her expressive, chestnut-colored eyes, and a subtle shade of lip stain completed her efforts. She had taken very good care of her skin, and appeared far younger than her years.

Jeans and a nice blouse, and a tailored tweed blazer would suffice...she was very much looking forward to the arrival of her clothes tomorrow. Soon enough, she'd need to break in the washing machine. Checking her appearance one last time, she saw that the necklace was visible at the neck of her blouse, but only very little of it. Other symbolism aside, it was difficult to reconcile being seen wearing this kind of splendor in such humble surroundings...but this is what he wanted, so wear it she must.

Having no intention of leaving for the village until after lunch, she found her notepad and steeled herself to begin tackling his language. What made sense was, to learn the language first with only the aid of English letters. Though she would be print out the Tengwar at some point, that was not the best use of her time just now...and it might be the most advantageous to practice writing English words in Tengwar script; it would help her mind grasp the characters faster...but that would be later on.

She looked through the two complete grammar guides she had downloaded, and began to organize her thoughts. Having always memorized via tables laid out in a particular manner, she wished to do the same here, to the extent possible...and the first thing she wanted were present tense verb conjugations. Preferably, "to be," which was always a nice place to begin.

After several minutes of reading and frowning, she realized that it didn't work that way...this language element, so integral to English, appeared to be absent in Sindarin; its function taken over by other means..it wasn't even buried in the list of irregular verbs. When she finally did locate the reference, she saw how it was used as basically an afterthought, and rarely. "Just...wonderful."

But there were -I stem and -A stem verbs, so she started to write out tables. Beginning with the -I stem verbs, she was dismayed at the way the verb stem morphed through the conjugation. "Tolo! in the imperative, Toled in the infinitive, and...Telegir is the second person plural? I am so incredibly doomed," she muttered. Off to the side she wrote out the stem and ending changes, hoping that there would be a pattern...and there was, but it was a complex pattern. "God why can't this be simple, like German?" she moaned. Knowing that she would regret it, she also did the same tables for the past tenses of these same verbs. "Mennin, Menninog, Mant, Mennim, Menninegir, Mennir...and Módiel for a present participle?" A whimper escaped her lips.

No longer caring that it was not yet noon, she opened a new bottle of wine, and poured a generously large glass. Taking a hefty swallow, she decided to write out possessive pronouns, first looking at the notes: " 'i' always carries a soft mutation in the following word. The forms of the pronouns here are already under a soft mutation and will never be in their original forms," she read. "What in hell is a soft mutation?" Before she looked at that, she made the pronoun table, deciding that it might be wise to allow herself a few moments before more mental pain arrived. And then, she found the Soft Mutation Chart...eighteen different individual letters or letter combinations _that would cause those letters to change to other letters entirely._ "You have GOT to be KIDDING ME," she yelled at the PDF file. Another very large swallow of wine later, she simply stared at the screen, trying to perceive a reason for this apparent lunacy, scanning back through the entire grammar. "Because elves like their language to sound pretty?"

Somehow, seeing that took all the frustration away, as she descended into uncontrollable laughter, until no more came. _Just...elves._

"Alright. Pretty. Somehow that is charming to the point that...I yield." With a deep sigh, she copied out that table too, and the six rules for when the mutation applied, but she smiled while she did it, thinking further. _Or rather, the six rules that she knew about at this moment, it seemed a fair bet that at least four others could be hiding somewhere._ Colors, numbers, nouns, interrogatives, nominative/object/dative pronouns, she wrote until she felt her hand cramping with discomfort. Finally, she put the pen down.

"It is time to just...listen, a little." There were several introductory videos, and she watched a few. She knew that every day, she would have to both memorize and retain some words, tables, syntax rules...and simply keep trying until some of it sank in. At least it genuinely was pleasing to hear, and amusing too.

"There is no clear word for 'yes', but it is easy to ask for wine. There is surely something to admire, in that," she laughed to herself. Choosing one simple thing, she tried to see if she could remember it until later. "Len suilon," she said. If she succeeded, she could greet him in his own language (formally, not informally!), however nonexistent any further discussion would be.

It was now a quarter after noon, and time to eat; she needed to leave for the village soon. There was still coddle and soda bread, which was a path of least resistance...but if she ate that, there would not be enough for them both tonight, and she wanted to offer Thranduil a decent meal. Then again, there was still a lot of ground beef, and she would bring back cabbage...a meatloaf and vegetables would not take too long, and could supplement the coddle. She could just have bread and peanut butter, which she was grateful to have seen in the pantry. Toasting two slices, she brought out the butter. Peanut butter and butter sandwiches were more or less how she had survived law school, and were in her opinion a food group. And while the bread toasted, she swiftly minced carrot and onion...but sliced the latter under the tap first, to prevent a cosmetic disaster. That would save a few minutes, later.

The peanut butter tasted wonderful, and reminded her of how much her life had changed...she really hadn't eaten it in quite awhile, for whatever reason. Adding a scarf just in case the weather cooled, she gathered what should be enough cash plus a generous amount extra, tucking it into the inner pocket of her blazer. Gathering shopping bags she'd seen in a closet, and an umbrella because one could never be too careful, she went to the barn for the bicycle and little trailer, and departed. She did not bother locking up; it was pointless. Now that she...understood...she realized the home was safer than Fort Knox.

The village lay basically two and a half miles along, down this same road, which really would not take that long, even as she determined to dawdle and enjoy her first sight of the scenery. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the trees of Lasg'len disappear from view behind her, at the bend in the road. While she felt far better about her circumstances than she had this morning, it was still disconcerting that her first trip to civilization, so to speak, was occurring with her a sworn subject of the elven realm in the woods. She had studied the map of this village, and Googled it so often, that she already felt she knew it well. The population was small, just some hundreds. There were quaint little businesses here, including a bakery. Though...she was an accomplished baker, and doubted there would be anything too tempting, especially this late in the day.

By her own admission, she took forever in the little grocery. First she had to walk through and just look at absolutely everything, allowing her eyes to savor the packaging, the names, where things were, on and on down to every bit of minutiae. Only then did she begin to fill her cart carefully, from her list...being very sure to keep within what the little trailer could haul home. Finally she checked out, being sure to smile kindly and repeat a short but pleasant speech of greeting, and asking the name of the lady working the counter. _Aisling._ Beyond getting her own name out, she needn't have bothered; she soon learned that everyone here already knew everything about her, to a degree that was disturbing. And by the animation in her face, and the fact that though the poor dear tried, her eyes kept falling on the necklace, she imagined that Ian had done his work at the pub last night. By some miracle, she remembered to ask about the possibility of larger produce orders (she used six hundred cabbages as a baseline), and received a promise of more information on her next visit.

Smiling, she paid and began to bring her bags to her trailer outside. A bit of shifting and arranging later, and it was all tucked away. Conveniently, the liquor store was so close that it was not worth moving the bicycle, so she walked to purchase a fifth of whisky for her cakes and puddings. With that secure as well, she considered. There was about an hour until sunset; enough time to stop in at the pub and say hello...not to mention care for the sacred obligation to make friends by buying a round. There was time, she reasoned, so she locked up the little trailer and rode over. It pleased her to find a decent bicycle rack to which she secured that too...she had a no-nonsense kryptonite lock, as she'd no intention of losing her bicycle. A simpler lock around the trailer spokes ensured that if it were detached, it would create something of a spectacle for the thief.

Taking a deep breath, she walked inside. In a way, this was a special moment. Ever since she'd heard that this pub was called The Spotted Dick, she had really not been able to wait to visit, just on account of the multiple levels of hilarity. Her good humor was rewarded and made better by finding none other than Ian at the bar, with a few of his mates. He rose immediately to greet her, and made introductions. John was the barkeep, and Rory and Martin were two of Ian's mates. Explaining she only had time for a pint, she gained instant popularity by insisting on buying a round. She really did not have to talk much, and was soon regaled by the heartwarming charm of hearing jests and stories told in their wonderful brogues. Though she realized, she was the one with the accent, not them. But after hours of the infernal Sindarin, the Guinness and the humor did a great deal to make her feel better. Though, she did see the glances at Thranduil's necklace. _I suppose it is unavoidable. Maybe next time I should choose a jumper, with a turtleneck_ , she thought.

Time flew by and before she knew it, a glance at her watch told her she had stayed later than she'd meant to. Giving her apologies, she made her goodbyes, knowing that at least Ian might be able to guess why she needed to return. With one last smile, she bade them goodbye, for now. The moment she was out the door, a rough looking man who had been drinking alone, at the rear, made a very quick exit out the door after her. The other men saw, and raised their eyebrows to each other.

Happy and oblivious, Earlene fumbled in her pocket for the lock key, when suddenly she felt her arm grabbed roughly from behind; the grip was a painful vise. Gasping in shock, she was yanked around to face what she could only register as a man who'd come out of nowhere. What began as a mean, dominant stare shifted to a look of wide-eyed surprise, as she felt his grip on her arm lessen. His expression altered further, to one of glassy blankness, and without warning he collapsed to the ground. As she stared in shock at the crumpled figure, with her mouth ajar, the pub door opened and the villagers emerged.

"I didn't..." she said, feeling almost in a panic as she looked at them, "He grabbed me and then the next moment, he was like this. I didn't do anything." She felt confused, and fearful that she was somehow in considerable trouble.

Ian walked to her side and said kindly, "Now lass, this bloke went looking for a bit 'uv mischief; an' he isn't one uv' the local lads. You go on home, now, and leave the tidying up here to us." He patted her gently on the shoulder. She nodded dumbly, and fished once again for her lock key, her heart pounding in her chest. Switching on her light, she rode off into the dark. A backward glance told her that the men were dragging...whoever he was...toward the alley alongside the building. She didn't want to know.

Badly shaken, she rode rather swiftly for a short time, before she slowed down and made herself think it through, as her little headlamp shone along the darkened road. _Half my life in New York City, on the subway every day, running at night in Central Park, and nothing ever happens. But I didn't even think to pay attention, here, and...what if...and...STOP IT,_ she told herself. _There were no what-ifs, it was over._ Nothing came of it; she'd only have to realize that in future, she couldn't take even Lasgalen completely for granted. _If you'd been paying better attention, you would have seen him, and it wouldn't have happened. Live and learn, Earlene._ By the time she arrived home, and pushed the bike into the barn, she had shrugged off the attempted assault, and turned her mind to things like...the Elvenking, and meatloaf.

"Earlene." She felt herself caught up in Thranduil's embrace, which filled her with warmth. Stepping back from him, she held his hands while slowly reciting. "Len suilon, i Aran nîn." His eyes widened. "Did I get that right, at all?" It felt very awkward, to be trying to say anything, even if it was only two new words.

A smile broke out on his face, as he bent down to kiss her forehead. "You did very well, meluieg. I will help you bring the food inside," he said, kindly. "And I greet you, as well." She felt his kiss tingle on her forehead; it was hard to want to let go of him, but she made herself do it.

By 'help,' he had meant 'carry almost everything,' since the only things she kept back were more delicate items like the bottles of wine, eggs, and bread loaves. He walked inside, with the heavily laden cloth bags hanging from his arms as though they were filled with feathers. With everything on the countertop, she began to both put the groceries away and pull out the ingredients for dinner, all at the same time...which is when she saw the clock...it was already past seven. She cringed.

"I apologize, my Lord, for my lateness. I hope you were not waiting long."

"Not too long, Earlene. I trust you had a good reason?" he smiled.

With a faint blush on her cheeks, she poured him a glass of wine. "I suppose that depends on one's point of view, my Lord. The answer could range from 'I was forging important social ties within my new community' to 'I had a pint of Guinness at the pub and lost track of time.' I had meant to leave sooner, for which I am sorry."

Thranduil found humor in her honesty. "I can see that Ian was there? Tell me about it, and direct me where to store these items." Chattering happily while she completed the meatloaf and placed it in the oven, she told him of the other local men to whom she'd been introduced, and the quaint and inconsequential matters they'd related to her. "A pub is an important place in an Irish village, my Lord. The traditions and customs of buying alcohol for each other and sharing camaraderie...I felt that if I am to make any effort to belong here at all, that it was a necessary obligation best cared for immediately. They were kind, to include me and welcome me." What else had happened, had been banished from her mind.

Soon the smells of the meat wafted from the oven, while the chopped cabbage fried in a skillet with just a little salt and seasoning. He regarded her, while sipping his wine. "I see you started early, today," he teased, nodding at the bottle which had been opened before his arrival.

Determined not to think about why she'd opened it, she demurred. "It seemed like the thing to do, at the time."

With a playful smirk, he fixed her with his gaze. "Earlene. Your thoughts were so loud this morning, that I had to check you were not standing next to me in my Halls. Twice." He chuckled heartily, as he watched her flush red with embarrassment...he found it endearing, that her cheeks did this in response to her emotions. But he did not leave her to suffer in discomfort for long; she was scooped up and held in his lap, as he kissed her. "I could not resist teasing you, meluieg. You studied for a long time, today. I expect Sindarin to be very difficult for you, and that you are making such an effort pleases me greatly. I am proud, both for your intelligence and your determination. Though, I do not wish you to push yourself too hard, too fast."

"I do not think you need to worry about that, Thranduil. Though, you can thank the Internet. From what I saw today, I honestly do not know how I could have pieced this together, only with you. It is very complex, more so than languages already considered to be difficult here. Or rather, it would take a far greater effort; I did not mean to imply that you could not teach me, but..." she shook her head, trailing off.

His fingers were under her chin, as he sealed his mouth to hers, his kiss growing suddenly hungry. It felt like flipping a light switch, inside of her. One second she was pondering grammar and the next...god, she wanted him.

"Remove your jeans," he whispered. Rising, she complied without hesitation, slipping off her boots first. She saw that he was unlacing his breeches, loosening the ties against the swelling that was building underneath. Though he did not specify, she removed her panties as well, and stood before him. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, as his hands roved her body, under her blouse and down to her cleft, and she opened herself to him. She felt her blazer being pushed off her shoulders. The only thing she could recall to do was unlatch her bra, in the front, not wishing to make him puzzle out how to remove it. One by one, he managed the buttons of her blouse, until she was naked. He lifted her, by the waist, to straddle him where he sat at the counter. With luxurious kisses, he slowly lowered her onto himself, giving her time to adjust. Her fingers found the buttons of his tunic as he did this; she wanted to feel her breasts against his bare chest. Soon enough, he was easily moving her against him in this way, with no effort on her part. As her legs dangled from his lap, he pulled her onto himself in an easy rhythm she could not long withstand. She clung to him, gasping softly as her orgasm washed through her. His own came a minute later, as he moved her differently, to satisfy himself. Which was perhaps why she noticed so easily, no longer being distracted by her own need. As his seed rushed into her, she felt once again the sense of binding, of desiring to submit to him. To her fully aware mind, it was a very strong compulsion... _Was this happening every time? Did every time he loved her increase his hold on her?_

"Yes, meluieg, though not because I intend it. It is the nature of our connection, whether I will it or no."

She could not bring herself to care. Her heart surged with love for him, and was filled with reverence for the privilege of having him inside of her.

"Gi melin, meluieg," he whispered, kissing her once again. She smiled, realizing she actually knew what to say in return.

"Le melin, Thranduil." She rested her forehead against him for a moment, when a jarring noise from the timer shattered her romantic notions. It was time to check the meatloaf. They both laughed, as he lifted her off of him. Careful not to burn her bare skin, she checked the dish, and set the timer for eight more minutes before retrieving her clothes. She bent down to pick them up, and found her motion arrested by him. He held her by her shoulders, and then her elbow.

"What caused this?" His voice had grown cold and threatening, and there was anger on his face. She looked from him, to her arm, and only now saw the deep purple bruising where she had been grabbed earlier. On instinct, she held lightly onto his forearms, and met his eyes. In her thoughts, she recalled for him what had happened. All of it.

He regarded her without speaking for what seemed like a long time, though his face softened. Averting his eyes, he held both of his hands over the bruised skin. A sensation of warmth spread from his touch, and when he released her, the damage was gone as if it had never occurred. Her eyes widened at seeing this, but she said nothing. A second later, her chin was in his grip.

"Should anything like this ever happen again, you are to tell me immediately, Earlene. I understand that you did not feel it was important, and that you wished to forget that it occurred. But you are mine, and I will not have you keeping things such as this from me."

Lowering her eyes, she apologized. "I am sorry..." Once again she was silenced.

"Do not be sorry. Only obey me, in the future."

She nodded. She knew what to say here, as well. "Athon, i Aran nîn."

"Ma. Good," he said, smiling once again, and bending down to pick up her clothing for her.

"Thranduil?" she asked, hesitantly.

He looked at her, searchingly. "You wish to know why the man collapsed, when he tried to assault you?"

She nodded.

"The necklace you wear is not only a mark of my possession, Earlene," he said gently. "It also confers my protection, within a certain area outside of my realm. To touch you with harmful intent carries a high price."

Her lips parted, as she absorbed this. "Is he...dead? Why did you not tell me?" she asked

"He is not dead; or rather, he was not dead at the time he released his hold on you. What happened to him afterward, who can say? And," he said with a measure of tenderness and sympathy in his voice, "I did not tell you, because you are already struggling to reconcile what has transpired between us. I am not unaware of the difficulties your vows have created for you, Earlene. You are seeking to understand your changed place in the world, the implications of your new life, and more. I did not wish to add any more burdens to your thoughts, sooner than necessary."

"You...know? Were you being truthful with me, my Lord, when you told me you could not hear me, outside of these woods?"

Thranduil drew her to him. "I was truthful, sweet one. But you are not taking into account that the moment you returned, even that which you sought to no longer reflect upon was revealed to me. There is no place in your mind that I do not see, if I am looking."

Her heart sank, as she understood clearly the magnitude of the imbalance between them.

"I see," she replied in a very small voice.

He rocked her gently, as he held her. "I do not hold it against you, or take offense. It is different for you, than for those who have lived alongside me and served me for so long. This is entirely new, you are not an elf, and I take responsibility for the lack of truly free choice by which you find yourself here. I can only promise you that I will honor you for what you have given me, Earlene. You are entitled to feel fear, and doubt, and uneasiness. I can only hope that in time, these lessen, as you learn to trust me. I cannot undo the manner in which I secured your loyalty; I can only hope that you come to understand why it was necessary, and fully forgive me."

Reaching up to kiss his cheek, she took her clothes to the bedroom to put them away, choosing a simple tunic and leggings, and cardigan. She might be trying to understand what she thought of his words, if she could think at all. The timer jarred her sensibilities, as she pulled her warmest socks onto her feet, hopping through the doorway to silence the noise. The sizzling meat was done to perfection. and she removed it to cool on the counter, switching it out to warm their dinner plates with small servings of the coddle and slices of bread. The cabbage was on a very low flame; in about ten minutes more they could eat. He moved behind her, to kiss the back of her neck and pull the pin that held up her hair. Reaching around his waist, she held onto him tightly, as he stroked her hair.

"Thank you for having some empathy for my circumstances, Thranduil. Even if I wanted to, I cannot deceive you. What has happened to me is not something anyone from my world can be prepared to accept. And yet, here we are." With a final squeeze, she released him. "Time to eat, my King. Have you had anything since this morning?"

He was at arm's length from her, holding her gaze."No, meluieg, I have not eaten; I am hungry. And, such as it is, you are welcome. Though, I am well aware that you are thanking me for the compassion you require because of me."

"There is that little detail," she said, with a half smile. "But as you could choose to give me no regard at all, it seemed more polite to thank you. And next time, you are to tell me if you will not be provided any food. It would have been easy to have sent you with something to eat during the day; I did not realize."

His eyebrows raised. She had no awareness of having just issued him a command. He elected to overlook her choice of words; she had not intended disrespect.

When he began to eat what she served him, pouring him more wine as well, he was even more certain of his decision not to point out her mistake. The food was delicious, and she had created something very satisfying.

"I inquired about the produce, my Lord. They in turn must ask, and promised to have some kind of information for me in some days, when I return."

"Thank you, Earlene."

Much to her surprise, he raised the question of another movie, while conceding that if she began to tire, they could watch the rest tomorrow.

"The container is supposed to arrive late morning; there will be time, if you have no other obligations."

Soon, they were once again seated and watching. This film, the Two Towers, reminded her of a long struggle of perseverance, on so many levels, though she did have to ask him, "A balrog...can be killed?"

"Yes. Though, it was a great feat at arms, that few could claim."

The portrayal of the Ents, that he called Onodrim, seemed to charm him...mostly. "None of the eldest would ever have spoken so foolishly," he said, with a measure of disdain at the portrayal.

When they had watched the scene detailing Arwen's future with Aragorn, she did not understand. And as it was the halfway point of the film, asked if they could stop.

"You told me that there had been marriages between elves and humans...but your kind must choose to die, in order to do this?"

"It was not so simple, even then. Of the four pairings anyone knows of, all were of ellith who wed mortal men. And yes, they took the Gift of Men, of mortality, forsaking the nature of being elves in order to wed...except for one; the mortal Tuor came to be counted among elves. But these matters belonged to countless ages past. As we who have lingered her for countless thousands of years have gone on, we can no longer say what our laws are in this respect, any longer. Survival, and the preservation of what little remains to us, have been our chief concerns. While I understand your curiosity, you are trying to impose the understanding of your kind onto something utterly different. The world has changed, Earlene, more than you could ever imagine."

The answer made its own kind of sense; so she nodded. He took care of the stove, as she turned off assorted devices and readied herself for bed. Though she was tired, she wanted him again, with a reckless compulsion. She now realized that the more he physically loved her, the less she would have the feelings that caused her distress and conflict. Climbing into bed, she waited for him. There was no way out for her but to fulfill her vows to him, or her death. Would it not simply be easier to yield to what was happening, than suffer from continuing to resist it? She had come here for a sense of peace...did it really matter, how she found it? On one hand, she couldn't believe her own thoughts, but on the other...she was known for her strongly logical mind and her ability to quickly analyze extremely complex circumstances; her conclusions were rarely wrong. He appeared in the doorway, and met her eyes. She extended her hand to him; it was both an invitation and a plea.

Thranduil both pitied her, and saw the truth of her conclusion. His response was to begin undressing. With the light off, he joined her in bed, leaning toward her, caressing her shoulder. "You are certain, Earlene? You will have little rest."

"Yes, I am," she whispered back to him.

He took her in his arms, and made love to her. Not once, but all through the night. He needed no time in between; she was asking him to spill his seed into her as many times as it was possible to do. Only when the light indicated the coming sunrise, did he stop his efforts. Her pleasure had been as great as her exhaustion was now; she was worn out from his attentions. As he held and caressed her sleeping body, the closest thing he had ever experienced to guilt washed over him. Never before had he so fully taken away the free will of another thinking being. It had seemed more permissible, before he understood her intelligence and her complexity. But now...

Yet he had begun this, and he owed it to her to finish it. A tear fell from his eye; it was all he could allow himself. She had presented him with an opportunity that might not come again for thousands of years more; he would have been remiss in his duty to his subjects to have let this slip away. And while on some level he admitted that once, his deeds would have been considered a great wickedness...that time had passed him by ages ago. She was one mortal life, against all the tens of thousands of years of their existence...his duty was clear, in his eyes, and he had the strength to live with his regrets.


	9. Chapter 9

Thranduil let her sleep until mid-morning, before rousing her. He had determined already that he would help her with the arrival of her personal effects, and otherwise ensure she had an easier day. There was a great deal of food left over, that would reduce her need to prepare so much. He had already made tea for them, before he lifted her to a sitting position, and held her as she rubbed her eyes. She crawled forward to him, desiring more closeness. After countless cavernous yawns, she finally managed to wake up. A little. Stroking his hair, she kissed him. "Thank you, for your considerable efforts", she said, gratefully.

"It was easier for me than you, meluieg," he said, smiling.

"I do not see how," she said, tilting her head, "but then again, you are very strong."

She washed her face, marveling that she was even able to walk, even though she knew he would have kept her from experiencing injury. Feeling reasonably certain that they might be done with lovemaking for a time, she wore her jeans again, and a jumper. There would be many things to rearrange and put away today, and there was no point in being uncomfortable. A bit more furniture would have to find space in the home, mostly a few bookshelves and cases, in addition to the clothes, linens, special kitchenware, artwork, and other personal effects. She'd downsized as much as possible, but in the end the trappings of an adult life were difficult to completely eliminate. And some things were non-negotiable; she would never leave them behind.

A simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, rashers of bacon, toasted bread, cheese and fruit took her only moments to prepare and serve. He seemed happy to satisfy his hunger. She shook her head, still unable to believe his stamina in bed. Even with her near complete inexperience, she knew that no human man could even come within miles of what he'd done. Her sense of peace was complete, just to sit with him. Though, she took the opportunity to check emails, just in case there were any changes of plans on the delivery. He insisted on washing up, and she used the time to try to read phrases from the lessons to him, so he could correct the pronunciation. When she did well enough, he would simply reply to the simple statements and questions.

"Man i eneth lîn?"

"I eneth nîn Thranduil. A len?" he asked.

"Im Earlene eston."

"I'm glad we got that cleared up," she teased gently, before her face grew earnest. "Thranduil, can you please tell me what the rules are for addressing someone formally or informally? Would I ever speak to you, or any of the other elves, informally? I do not wish to make mistakes and offend."

"I will allow you to speak to me informally in private, Earlene, just as we do now. Though, as a general rule, you could not go wrong, especially in the beginning, by staying with the formal usage."

"How will the other elves address me? Can I get away with not learning the informal words, for a time?"

He frowned. "It would be better to learn both. Yet, most will speak to you formally, at least at first, especially if I ask them to. It would indeed help your learning, to focus more on one. Allow me to consider this."

They watched the remainder of the film, as she contentedly leaned back into his arms. He had a very strong reaction to the creature Gollum. When she paused to ask further, he explained that at one time it had been his duty to imprison him, and that he had escaped. He sounded so irate and felt so tense beneath her, it seemed wise to move along...she could guess how much something like that might have angered him, and felt desperately sorry for whoever the guard had been. His rumble of mirth surprised her. "Believe it or not, it was my son. I was angry, but I did not remain so for long."

She took his hand and idly massaged it, as the film wore on. The Battle at Helm's Deep was frightening, and impressive. _What courage it would take, to fight in such a battle_ , she thought. _And how horrible, that anyone would need to._ As she watched the dual nature of Gollum unfold, she felt genuine pity. _What might have happened, if he had only seen a little more kindness_ , she wondered? The tale was complex and compelling, and she now looked forward to seeing how it ended. _Funny, how everyone's world is a mess at one time or another._

No sooner had she shut down the television, than the rumble of a heavy engine told her that her things had likely arrived. Squeezing his hand, she rose to meet the driver. She'd chosen to have her things shipped via lift van; a massive crate that could hold a really decent amount of items, while being vastly more economical than a shipping container. Furniture had either been disassembled, or placed inside in such a way so as to make complete use of all available space. It would be taken off the truck by forklift and left for her to deal with, so it was important to get it as near to the house as possible. In a shorter time than she would have believed possible, she inspected it for external damage, signed for it, and it was offloaded. The driver lastly opened the unit with a crowbar before departing, saving her the hassle of finding one in the barn.

It was unexpectedly poignant for her to see the remains of her former life sitting on the grass in Ireland, but there was too much to do, to wallow in nostalgia now. She explained to Thranduil that the boxes were marked, and could go to the kitchen area, main room, bedroom or what she had come to think of as " the room of undefined use" accordingly...there was a small second bedroom that she supposed would morph into an office, but she hadn't give it enough thought just yet. Wisely, she had left her toolbox at the front of the container; that went immediately to the kitchen counter so that it could not get lost in the shuffle of items. With his strength and speed, the unloading took a third of the time it would have taken her, working alone. Two bookshelves needed reassembling, and she would move the one currently in the living area into the office...along with everything else that was a lower priority. He expressed a desire to hang and store her clothing, which surprised her.

"Will you promise me you will not confiscate all my trousers?" she asked, teasingly.

He looked at her, his eyes wide. _Clever woman_ , he thought. She might have been teasing, but he would not have been. That battle would wait until later, he decided. "Yes, meluieg, I promise. But only for the time being." The corners of his mouth turned up, as her lips parted. He disappeared into the bedroom, with the boxes in question. She did own skirts, he noted approvingly. Her clothing tended to be of fine fabrics, well made, but not showy or colorful except for some accent pieces. She favored wool, linen and...he had see the cotton she wore, though he was not familiar with it. He saw also that she liked leather; there were boots, belts, and well-made shoes. Some were lined with fleece. Her undergarments were pretty, and also well made; he did not recognize the fabrics at all. This was all so different, than what his wife had worn. And yet, a part of him was taking simple pleasure in once again sharing his life with a female. It would not last very long, for him, and he wished to enjoy what he could.

He heard rumbling from the other room, as she heaved on the couch, and then the coffee table, to make room for the tall bookshelf. Seeing that it was far more difficult to move for her, he placed all the larger items where she wished, with no effort. With these now in place, she turned her attention to the kitchen, unpacking the boxes in serial fashion. The pantry and the cupboards easily absorbed her specialty culinary items. "Finally," she said, as she brought out her cast iron and enameled iron cookware, and professional knives. One of the few things she had spent on was high quality kitchenware, because of how much she liked to cook. Stacks of items appeared on the counter; packing materials and boxes that had been emptied went out to the covered back porch to await storage in the barn or some similar fate.

Linens disappeared onto the small stands she'd brought for use in the bathroom, as did a small collection of toiletries. A short time later, all that was left were personal items, books, and other things that might be displayed. Her collection of music CDs went to the office; almost all of them were already loaded onto her laptop. But she now had her wireless speakers again, which she took a moment to place around the house and fit with adaptor plugs. There was a large space over the wall above the sofa, and she knew what would be there. Looking for a wall stud, she tapped in the screws for the heavy brass hook that would hold her artwork. When everything was done, she unpacked the books, loading them onto the shelves. With great care, she unwrapped a framed photo of her with her closest friends, placing it in a position of honor in front of the volumes that were a smattering of her entire life. In front of the photo went a strangely shaped thing; a piece of broken stone, with melted metal was fused onto it.

Now it was time for the last item. A large, framed wall hanging was secured in several layers of protective wrapping. Removing all of it carefully, she finally placed it onto the waiting hook. With the assistance of a friend who was a professional photographer, she'd had this taken some years back. In the foreground were the blossoms of a pear tree, and towering into the sky behind it was the tallest building in Manhattan. They'd come back for three days in a row to get this shot; it was a crystal twilight, with the light fading from sunset to dark. The exterior glass reflected the lights of nearby skyscrapers, while the surrounding sky was every tint of royal and midnight blue. As she stepped back to see this, here, her mind went strangely blank, teetering on a brink of so many things.

Thranduil came behind her, for once unable to read her thoughts; this puzzled him greatly. He placed his hands on her shoulder, looking at the image. "What is that?" he asked.

"That is One World Trade Center, also called the Freedom Tower," she said softly.

Something like a snort came from him. "There is no such thing as freedom, Earlene." His voice was full of derision.

Rage erupted inside of her, out of a very deep well. Without any thought, she spun around and slapped him across the face with all of her strength. " _How dare you say that to me_ ," she spat. "HOW DARE YOU!" Her voice was at a shriek, now, as her mind exploded with her memories. Her eyes burned with intense anger as she turned and stormed out of the house toward the road. She did not care where she was, as long as it wasn't here. Only as she left, did she notice the painful throb beginning to spread through her hand.

Thranduil stood, stunned. He would not have thought this possible, from her. Why she had done this, he would discover later. He could overlook many things, but this was not one of them.

Appearing in front of her to block her way, he held up his hand. His eyes glinted with hardness but his face betrayed no other emotion. "You will stop. Now." She did hesitate, slightly, but the anger in her was still so incredibly raw. She tried to walk around him, and was blocked again. While his words were spoken quietly, unquestionable authority and an edge of menace were now in his voice. "You cannot escape me, Earlene. Obey me now, or there will be greater consequences. I cannot ignore you striking me."

If he had shouted at her, or lashed out in anger, it might have gone differently. In that moment after he finished speaking, a sliver of an ability to think rationally returned to her mind. He could not have known what he had said to her, or that his words were as spraying a fine mist of gasoline on a candle. The anger dissolved, and left in its place the reopened well of her pain and grief. And, she really had just hit him. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Not on account of Thranduil, but on account of her realization that she would never be free from what had happened. She had done so well, for so long, and had thought that maybe...

At home, there was no need to talk about it. The entire city bore up under the memory, with resilience and quiet determination. But outside...people did not understand, in the same way. It did not matter. She dropped to her knees in front of him, looking at his boots. "Forgive me."

"Rise, Earlene, and return to the house." He had begun to see in her mind images of terrible things, and her intense grief, but he still did not understand. She did as he asked, knowing that he followed her closely, and waited with her head bowed.

"You will explain to me, why you struck your King." There was a long pause. When she spoke, there was heavy strain in her voice.

"Yes, my Lord. Do you know what 9/11 is?"

"No."

Wordlessly she turned on the television, and went to YouTube, and found the videos she knew too well. "Do you keep the calendar of the outside world, my Lord?"

"No."

She looked down. "Do you know of the countries of the outer world, my Lord? The nations?"

"No."

"Have you seen aircraft, jetliners, that fly in the sky? Very large flying objects?"

"Yes."

She pulled two large books off the shelf. Opening one, an atlas, she indicated where they were in the world, and whence she had come, from across the sea. In other book, "New York City," she explained that these were the pictures of the place in which she had lived her life.

"Twelve years ago, my Lord, on the date of September 11, 2001, something happened in my city that changed the human world. It was in the early morning, and I was at my office working, here," pointing to the location on lower Madison Street. Rising, she brought him the photo from the bookshelf.

"These people were my friends, my chosen family. They worked in these two buildings, here," as she indicated them. "These were called the Twin Towers, at the World Trade Center, and were famous around the developed world."

Earlene started the video, and Thranduil saw smoke pouring from a scar that appeared to run across the side of a tower. He could see from the photo in her book, that the construction of these buildings were massive beyond anything he could imagine. "At eight forty-five that morning, a large aircraft flew into this tower; that is why it is burning. My friend Sara worked here, in one of the floors not far above where you see the fire. There were many people in those buildings. She called me, to tell me that the exits were cut off, and to find out what had happened. She was afraid for her life. I told her to stop talking to me, and to keep trying to find a way to leave. I did not know that it was not possible. I never spoke to her again."

Earlene looked down, trying to compose herself, while indicating to Thranduil to keep watching. "That was another aircraft, crashing into the second tower. People that are what we call Terrorists commandeered those huge planes, to cause death and destruction, and did this purposefully. They did it because my former country is a free country, and because they hated the freedoms we have...among other complex reasons. What you see here...I watched all of this, out of the window, from not far away, as it happened. I saw the second plane crash. The buildings burned and burned and burned. And then..." she gestured back to the video, in which a great plume of dust was rising even as the structure disappeared, "they collapsed, one after the other; disintegrated into ash and dust that spread for miles. All my friends, in this photo, were killed when the towers fell. I talked to some of them, before they died. They were terrified, and there was nothing I could do to help them. I could not go home for two days, because it was not possible. Eight million people live in New York City, and they were all brought to a standstill. I do not expect you to understand what this did to me, my city, or my nation. Our freedom, and our resilience, are at the heart of who we are. The photo on my wall is of the building that stands now, built in place of the twin towers, and of the only living thing to survive what happened that day; the tree. The pear tree lived, and grew again. For you to say to me, or to any American who lost loved ones that day, that there is no such thing as freedom..." she trailed off. "All those people died, because we have freedom. You cannot know what your words meant, in my ears. You do not know our world. I should have realized this, instead of lashing out at you. It is not an excuse, and I accept the consequences for striking you, though I am sorry. I still ask your forgiveness. Though," she looked him in the eye, "just because I am no longer free, my Lord, does not mean there is no freedom in this world."

He did not speak, for a long time. "How many perished, in this?"

"Three thousand died, and another six thousand were injured. There were yet other attacks and other planes. Yet more were sickened afterward, as well."

She took her photo from him, gently, and returned it to the shelf. Resuming her position, she stood in front of him with her head bowed.

After what seemed like an interminable silence, she finally heard, "Look at me," and complied.

"Earlene, what you have done is difficult to judge. To strike me is a serious crime, and cannot go unpunished. Yet of all my subjects, you are the only one who did not specifically know this. And while you are correct; I do not understand the fullness of what my words provoked in you, I can see in your mind and in your memories that you bear a deep wound, and that I stabbed into the heart of it. You will have my forgiveness, but first you must bear the consequence of your action."

She said nothing, and waited. He approached her, and lifted her chin with his fingers. "I believe you struck me because on some level, you still think you have choices. You still do not accept your position. You will learn that you have no choices, and that the only freedom you will find is in having none." He looked at her expectantly. Lowering her eyes, she answered him.

"Yes, my Lord." There was nothing else she could say. And while she had no idea what he actually meant, her guess was that Sindarin grammar would be appealing, by comparison. As she glanced one last time at the photo of her friends, she realized that whatever the price, on some level she had done it out of her love for them, however blindly. While it did not change her fate, it at least made her feel like she had defended their memory.

"You will prepare me food, now."

Not being stupid, she noted right away that there was no request, only a command. She had a feeling she would pay dearly for that slap, but there was nothing else for it. He was King.

"Yes, my Lord."

She also caught the use of the singular pronoun, and did not make food for herself as well. A sharp pain came from her hand, when she moved in certain ways; swelling and bruising had set in below her fourth and fifth fingers, that she declined to mention. If he wanted to know, he would. After serving him, and pouring him wine, she stood at a distance, with her head bowed. When he was done eating, he rose. "After you clean up, you may eat something. You will then change into your dress. We are returning to my Halls."

"Yes, my Lord."

 _Full restriction_ , she thought, as she washed the dishes and utensils. She had lost all rights with him, and would be shown her place until it pleased him to do otherwise. Honestly, it was fine. In a way, it was just bad blind luck that he had managed to say the one thing that could have ever caused her to do something like that. His efforts from last night had not been undone; quite the contrary. His punishment was far easier to accept than it ever would have been before. She was his, and was at peace with it. There was freedom, somewhere. He would still care for her, life would go on, and she would serve him. And in the meantime, she would endure his lesson.

Not feeling terribly hungry after what had just transpired, she had a small slice of cold meatloaf and a piece of fruit. There was fortunately plenty for tonight, if they were returning here. She had thought to make a bread pudding for them but...it seemed like anything that might involve an independent decision would not be allowed, perhaps for some time. It would be best not to assume, from here on out. There was always porridge, she mused. Finishing her food quickly, she changed her clothing, and returned to him, waiting silently. He was looking at the book about New York City, especially at the pictures. After who knows how long, he closed it and rose.

"Come," he said, and left. He walked at a very brisk pace, which mostly required her to trot to keep up with him. As she went on, it occurred to her that she would likely be shamed before the other elves. But as that was his prerogative, there was little she could do about it. The odd thing was, what he had done to her last night had softened her to the extent that she genuinely did not react to the prospect of humiliation. She loved him yet, and wished to serve him. _How in the world had her anger broken through this_ , she wondered? It ought not to have been possible, at all. _But...9/11, to someone who worked in Manhattan._ There probably was no further explanation required. She idly wondered if he would like New York. It was impossible to explain, to someone who had never been. While his Halls were wondrous, so were the skyscrapers, so was the Park, so were the people so was...everything.

When they arrived at the Gates, they opened as before. She continued to follow him, not knowing where they were going. As they descended stairs, it began to look decidedly dark, and unfriendly. Was this a...jail? He pulled open a barred door. "You are being punished, Earlene. Go inside."

Without hesitating, she did as he asked. He pulled the door shut behind him, and left without a word. It was cold here, much colder than his rooms had been. There was a large stone shelf in the rear of the cell, and a thin blanket. She'd hardly slept last night, and was still very tired. When it became apparent that he was not returning soon, her nimble fingers folded the blanket so that she could wrap it as a heavier shawl around her head, back, and arms. Tucking up her skirts around her folded legs, she made herself as warm as she could, curling into a fetal position, and was soon sound asleep.

Yet even in her dreams, she was not exempt. A steady parade of images came to her, of every kindness he had ever shown her, and of what he had seen on her face when she'd lashed out at him. When she woke in reality, it was to a voice.

"Earlene, get up."

Uncurling painfully, she rose as quickly as she could, keeping her eyes lowered. There was no way to know how long she'd slept, and her dreams had left her feeling like a horrible ingrate.

"Come."

He led her to his rooms, and gestured for her to enter, and to follow him to near where his bed stood.

"Remove your dress."

Once she had done this, she waited, with her eyes lowered.

"You will clothe yourself in the other, now."

A different dress had been laid over the chair for her, which he indicated.

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." She almost choked on the words, as she struggled to master her feelings. This garment was simpler, less ornamented, but in some ways more practical. The skirts were not so long, and the fabric was heavier, and warmer. It reminded her in some ways of an army blanket, but of softer wool. As with the other one, it was very well made, and fit flawlessly. She was once again to follow him. They departed his Halls and she followed him in silence, only now realizing that she had not seen another elf today, anywhere. In her current disgrace, that was a kindness. The sun was all but gone from the sky; she had slept the afternoon away and then some, in the cell. Her hand throbbed still; she guessed she might have fractured a bone. And, she was burning with thirst.

On their arrival, he issued the same command. "You will prepare me food."

"Yes, my Lord." Stealing a glance at him as she answered, she tried to think of what would be easiest to do on shorter notice. Picking up a glass from the countertop, she filled it with water...she would have to work in the midst of this muddle of kitchenware that she had not yet stored, thanks to the derailment of the day. She was about to drink when his hand arrested her arm.

"I did not say that you were allowed to have anything, Earlene."

Without meaning to, she clung to the glass out of a sense of desperation, so he removed her fingers in order to take it from her, eliciting a cry of pain. Frowning, he placed the glass on the counter, examined at her hand, and looked at her. He saw that her eyes were filled with sorrow, and he placed his hands around the damage. A moment later, the injury was healed. Releasing her hand, he said once again with an unreadable face, "Prepare my food." He could see that she had almost learned her lesson; there was only one thing remaining.

As she looked at the water she wanted so badly, she fought back tears. This message was equally clear; for anything at all, she would wait on his pleasure. For everything, she was dependent on his good graces. And, this was punishment. She moved the water to another counter, accepting his will. Other glasses she quickly placed in a cupboard, so she would have room to work. There was no need to make another main course; there was still enough meatloaf. A hearty German dish of eggs and potatoes, with a sauce, would compliment the meat. That, and more cabbage, would make for a pleasant dinner.

"May I offer you wine, my Lord?" she asked quietly, without looking at him.

"Yes."

When she returned from selecting a bottle in the pantry, a glance told her that he had seated himself, and was looking through the books she'd brought out earlier. At the moment, he was turning the pages of the atlas, only now seeming to begin absorbing the size of the world. She placed his filled glass within easy reach on the nearby coffee table, and returned to find potatoes and the half cabbage she'd need. She also selected four eggs to place in a pot, and covered them with cold water, and placed them on the stove to hard boil, before beginning to peel and chop the vegetables.

As she worked, the weight on her heart kept growing, and she did not notice that he had turned back to the book on New York. It was a very large one, that she'd purchased for the clear glossy photographs that captured the city so well. It was also where she kept the clippings and the memories. Every obituary was there; Alika, Mary, Dina, Steve, Parshu, Sara. She'd made rubbings of their bronzed names at the memorial pools, before she'd left to come here; they were kept between glassine paper among the pages. It had been one last visit, to say goodbye. Her memories of them felt to her like the water at the pools; cascading down to the blackness below, on their way to some other place. Perhaps it was another reason she'd been able to come here at all...9/11 had taken away everyone she'd had, and afterward, no others filled the empty spaces. Perhaps she had been unwilling to allow it...it was too hard to say.

Thranduil found these remembrances as he looked through the pages that told him more about the magnitude of the destruction, and looked at all of them. After the second of her friends' names, he realized that the photograph she had shown him was of these same people. He had seen many die, and had grieved countless losses. He had also seen his kingdom attacked and his forest burned around him, and he had endured.

Rising, he walked to look at the photo more carefully, when he noticed the object in front of it; the curious thing of stone and molten metal. Picking it up, he turned it in his hand, and his eyes widened in shock. A burden of grief, anger, and sorrow such as he had never known came from it and dropped him to his knees. The object fell out of his hand and tumbled to the floor as he gasped to take in air. His kind could be sensitive to unusual forces, and the thing he'd touched carried a memory of the agony of thousands.

Earlene immediately went to him and knelt down, in concern, reaching toward him. Hesitating, she did not know what to do. She did not dare touch him, nor did she understand what was wrong. Seeing the piece of debris he'd dropped, she picked it up. In the days that followed, she had made and given out food for the emergency workers, as often as possible as she walked to work each morning. A nameless fireman to whom she'd offered a warm, freshly baked cinnamon roll had drawn this from his turnout gear, and placed it in her hand in gratitude.

"My Lord?" she whispered. He had already begun to regain his feet, and stood up, glancing down at her with a face that continued to be expressionless. Looking up at him, from her position at his feet, she felt like her heart was breaking.

"I am so sorry, my King," she sobbed. "I am so sorry, to have raised my hand to you." Looking away, she buried her face in her hands. The weight of what she had done to him was proving too heavy to carry.

He lifted her up and embraced her, which caused her to cry harder. This was what he had waited to hear.

"You are forgiven, Earlene, and you have been punished enough," he said softly. This had not been pleasant for him, but he'd felt he had no other choice, for both their sakes. That she would never act out against him again, for any reason, he felt certain. As she struggled to stop her tears, she heard a bumping noise from across the room, and gently broke away from him. The eggs were boiling, and she had to turn off the heat and cover them before they overcooked. He was at her side as she placed the lid on, offering her the glass of water.

In a voice weighted with emotion, she thanked him. Finally putting down her strange keepsake, her hands shook as she took the glass from him; he helped to steady her as she drank, then replenished the water. He could see that she was riddled with turmoil, and would not be able to easily control her feelings. Nothing was actively cooking on the stove, at the moment, and he determined to return her to some kind of stability. He guided her to her bed, and sat her down, removing her shoes. His hands slid under her dress to do the same with her undergarments as she looked at him in near disbelief. As he drew his fingers down the skin of her legs, she trembled. When he kissed her, her chastened mind was both complaisant and deeply appreciative. He could not have guessed, how strongly she would react to the restoration of his favor. She devoured his steady thrusts as though she had starved for him. Which, he recognized, she had; leaving her to wonder when she might ever receive this again from him had been part of her penalty. Her release was a powerful one that tipped him into his own; they strained against each other in pleasure. He kissed her and stroked her skin for awhile, as they rested, to assure her of his love. When he raised her back up, she was outwardly calm, though there were traces of anxiety, that he dismissed as the lingering effects of her experience. He nudged her gently toward the kitchen, following behind and taking a glass into which to pour wine for her.

The pot of peeled and chopped potatoes was set on to boil, and she started to fry the cabbage and make sauce while the slices of meatloaf awaited reheating in the microwave. Considering the plates, she was uncertain whether she would eat with him or not; she would not presume anything.

"Earlene." She looked to see that he offered her wine, which she accepted from him. He placed his arm around her shoulder. "All will be now, as it was before your punishment. It grieved me, to have to treat you in such a manner, sweet one. "

She bowed her head. "It will not happen again, my Lord." He kissed her forehead, and she leaned into his reassurance with her eyes closed. Her sizzling roux demanded that she break away from him. As she furiously stirred milk into it in small amounts, her heart felt some gladness for the first time since this morning. When the sauce was slowly bubbling after the addition of broth, she glanced all around again, and spotted what the fireman had given her. She had never known what to call the thing, but in many ways it was her most precious possession. Walking to the shelf, she returned it to resting in front of her friends. Thranduil watched her as she did this. Now was not the time to tell her that if she'd placed this in his hand instead of striking him, it would be he who had begged her forgiveness, for his words. He understood from having touched it, more than from her explanation, why she had struck him...but the day could not be undone, and no King could tolerate a treasonous action.

Oblivious to Thranduil's observation, she began to slice off bread to cube for a pudding recipe. One of the loaves she'd purchased was from the baker's and would be stale by morning; if she began now they would be suitable for a dessert tomorrow. But then she remembered, frowning.

"My Lord, what you told me about food staying fresh, here...what if I need for it to become stale? What do I do?" That he glided over to her and pulled her against him just to give the simplest of answers melted her heart. She was so grateful to feel his touch again, that it did not cross her mind that he also had hated the distance he had been forced to impose on her. In the end, she piled the cubes onto a jelly roll pan and placed it on top of the wood stove; this would force them to dry when they otherwise would not.

Earlene asked him if he would like to listen to music, while he ate. When he assented, she opened her laptop and played Corelli Concerti, softly. They were cheerful. He was astonished, to hear the music coming from seemingly nowhere, all around the room, and seemed to enjoy it very much.

There was no film, tonight. After the meal, she was physically and emotionally drained from the entire day. He insisted that she sit and rest, and drink more water, while he cleaned the dishes. She brought her knitting bag on the way to the couch, to do as he'd asked. There was a potholder that she only needed to do a little more work on. Scarves and potholders were most of what she made, never having had the time to learn very complex patterns; but both were welcome gifts to friends and coworkers at holiday time...and had become something for which she had developed a humorous reputation. Thranduil joined her, with the last of his wine. He held her against him as she worked, fascinated to watch the rapidly moving needles. It was a simple textile craft, but one unknown in his realm. Before long, though, her hands slowed, and then stopped, as her head drooped against him. Carefully laying aside her work, he took her in his arms and carried her to bed, removing her dress for her. As the diamonds at her neck sparkled in the low light, he looked on her with desire...that could wait. Climbing into bed to take her in his arms, he at least felt assured there would never be another day like this one.

* * *

Notes: When this story began, 9/11 was not on my mind; it was coincidental that I'd created an OFC that worked in Manhattan. But then time went on, and the idea started to creep in before I realized, we are coming up on FIFTEEN YEARS since this happened. Writing this into the narrative, from the viewpoint of someone who was drawn deeply into this tragedy, was a very difficult thing to do. But, I'm not sorry for the Kleenex that were sacrificed to the cause. We have all lived in a changed world because of what happened that day, and I for one don't want to let myself forget just how different life is, now, and why. And to all the Earlenes out there, who have just had to find a way to patch themselves back together and carry on living without a Thranduil to make it all better in the end...you're not forgotten.

"Man i eneth lîn?" -What is your name (formal)

"I eneth nîn Thranduil. A len?" -My name is Thranduil. And you are (formal)?

"Im Earlene eston." -I am called Earlene.


	10. Chapter 10

When morning came, Earlene woke to bacon. With her head half buried in the pillow, she frowned, certain after a few moments that she wasn't imagining the smell.

Things might be better off, if she just stayed here. It had been a bit of a running joke among her friends, that if she was cooking, to stay out of her kitchen. She tended to move through the space in such an energetic way that it really was safer for people to just not be there. Not to mention, she could be a little fussy about how things were done. She smiled, remembering the time she'd been down with a pretty bad flu. Two of them had come over to cook a huge pot of chicken soup for her, from scratch, and a third had been ordered to make sure she never came out of the bedroom while they were doing it. And that third one, Parshu, had had quite a time of keeping her there. She could soak in his slight Punjabi accent for hours, and they knew how much she liked to hear the stories he'd tell of his family back home. _It had all been quite a setup_ , she mused. There really had never been a day when she didn't miss all of them, but long ago she'd had to force herself to stop really thinking about it. In the end, it had been the only way to stay sane, to keep going. And part of honoring their memory was to remember to live...it was the one thing that none of them were offered, and she wouldn't let them down.

On second thought, she'd best get up. The pain and shame of yesterday was not going to leave her mind for a long time, and it was not right that her King was in there frying a rasher while she lay here daydreaming. _You need to put that aside_ , she told herself. _You lost control and made a big mistake, paid the price, and it's over now. Don't let it spoil your happiness...or his._

After using the toilet and washing her face, she looked for something to wear, and found that in spite of her pep talk to herself, she could not put on the same jeans and jumper as yesterday...they were too much of a reminder. Instead she found black leggings, a long-sleeved cotton tunic with a charming irregular hemline, and a thick cardigan. Socks finished off what she hoped would be suitable attire for at least awhile. It looked somewhat bizarre with the diamond necklace, but, she was simply going to have to stop thinking about choosing every piece of clothing around it, especially on days she might be able to stay here.

"Good morning, my Lord," she said as she approached him, noting with pride that he seemed to be coping well with the food..though he was making an extremely generous quantity, for two people. Not that she thought him incapable; it was just that...sometimes even very smart people just didn't get it, when it came to cooking. He looked back at her with an expression that spoke of tremendous enjoyment.

"Aur vaer (Good day), Earlene," he said, with sparkling eyes. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. Not only had he fried and drained the bacon, he was now cooking cabbage in some of the grease and preparing to add scrambled eggs to half the pan. She smiled at him. "I infer, my Lord, that you are content with what you are doing; I only wish you to know that I am willing to take over if you would prefer. May I help you in any way?"

"Please make the tea, and toast some bread?"

"Athon, Hîr vuin (I will, my Lord)," she said carefully, as she set about doing as he'd asked, and offering to set out plates as well. While she waited for the kettle and toast, she checked her computer. Her eyes widened at the number of emails from her firm that awaited her attention. _Even my punishment had a punishment_ , she thought. _This is what I get, for not being able to take care of any of this yesterday._ While she elected to read them first before passing judgement, she was going to have to possibly remind them that "consult" didn't mean "work part time, uncompensated, from home". Her vision had been of spending a maximum of eight to ten hours a week on their inquiries...this threatened to spill beyond that, considerably.

"Earlene, there is something I should have told you yesterday but..." he trailed off, as he saw that she lowered her eyes in disgrace.

"No, meluieg," he said, suddenly standing next to her, and gently holding her face. "It is not being held to account against you; you are not to dwell on what occurred." His blue eyes held hers, with a look of softness, and sympathy, until she nodded.

"I wished to tell you that Thanadir has been restored, and will be joining us for meals, for some days. That is," he smiled, "unless you wish him to go without food."

Her eyes widened in surprise at this announcement. "Of course he is welcome, my Lord. Is he coming now? I have not put out enough plates...nor do I have enough places to sit at the counter. But I am happy to seat you both, and stand to eat, if it would please you. I do not wish to fail to honor him, and it is something I am used to."

Thranduil looked on her with wonder, and a little guilt. He had been very hard on her, yesterday. And while he had done what he believed he must, a measure of doubt nagged at him now. But this was not the time to reflect on this more.

"He is coming now, and, your thoughtfulness would be much appreciated, just this once. Your home is not a place in which I wish to stand on formality. But there is no doubt, that he would be set at ease by your gesture."

"Then consider it done, my Lord." She paused, as her voice shrank to almost a whisper. "My Lord? Does he...know, what I did to you?"

She tried to keep her voice neutral, but the grief lingering in her heart could not be hidden from him.

He hesitated, before replying. The truth was, that his seneschal would know; it was necessary according to his own laws, to inform Thanadar of a transgression against the person of the King. But he did not have to inform him today. Nor would he speak to the elf, until he could be assured of having the time necessary to impress upon him the complexity surrounding what had occurred, and the importance of not berating her or showing her any further disapproval, however slight. But at the moment, it was no lie to tell her that which would ease her burden.

"He does not know, meluieg. But you must understand, even if he did, it would not be held against you. Our ways are not like your own. Once I declare that a matter is concluded; it is concluded."

She nodded again, speaking in hushed tones. "I am sorry, Thranduil, not to be able to control my feelings better. I am trying but...it is difficult for me. And, thank you for telling me." Moving away, she went to bring out another place setting. It would be simple enough, to eat near the sink. When this was done, she looked up at the King, who was happily moving the last of the eggs around.

"My Lord, if I may, you will find your scrambled eggs stay moist if you turn off the flame now, and let them finish cooking with the residual heat of the pan. But what I had really wished is, to ask if I will have your permission to remain here today?"

"Is there something you wish to do, Earlene?"

"I have more work than I anticipated from my firm, and I also hoped to roast a chicken and prepare a more elaborate dinner this evening, especially in view of needing to feed Thanadir. The meal will require attention during the day. If there is time left over, I also hoped to study Sindarin."

Thranduil looked at her, his face unreadable at first, but then breaking into a smile. "Will you promise me that I can enjoy at least part of another film with you, after the evening meal?"

It lifted and eased her heart, to hear that he would like to spend time with her in this way. Walking to him, she took his hand in hers and said, "Your wish is my desire, Thranduil." Reverently, she leaned down to kiss the back of his hand. And unbeknownst to her, this gesture of respect was what Thanadir witnessed her doing, when he arrived to knock at the glass door that faced the woods. He could not have been more pleased, to see the King's mortal lady showing His Majesty such esteem. Out of regard, he waited until he saw that Earlene had released the King's hand and stepped away from him, before knocking.

She turned to see him, and with a welcoming smile came to open the door, gesturing for him to enter.

"Len suilon (I greet you), Your Excellency," she said softly, bowing her head deeply to him. "Le nathlam hí (you are welcome here)."

"Thank you, Earlene," he said politely.

"May I take your cloak?" she asked slowly. When he appeared confused, she carefully reached to touch the fabric of his cloak, tugging at it while saying "cloak?"

"Cloak," Thanadir repeated, baffled.

Earlene turned to Thranduil, with a plea in her eyes. He smiled, and rattled off something very rapidly, at which Thanadir swiftly removed the garment and handed it to her. Taking it with a smile, she gestured for him to please be seated, slowly and tentatively saying, "Tolo, havo dad, Thanadir." (Come, sit down). She saw Thranduil's eyebrows raise.

"Was what I said wrong, my Lord?" she asked, still feeling very shaky about trying new words.

"It was correct, Earlene. I am impressed that you have remembered so many phrases."

Feeling relieved, she took Thanadir's cloak to her bedroom, as she overheard Thanadir speaking to the King in agitated words so rapid she could catch nothing more than "i (the)" and even that was debatable. She'd made the bed up quickly, earlier, but now took an extra moment to smooth the covers more neatly. Returning, she poured tea for all three of them. Thranduil was proudly filling the plates with the food he'd made, while Earlene nudged the warm toast toward the ellyn, as well as the butter and different spreads, while inquiring whether the seneschal wished sugar or milk for his tea (he did not). He was, unbeknownst to her, still trying to process his horror at finding his King preparing food for him; stern explanations had been required for him to somehow rearrange his views on what was seemly.

When both of them were seated and eating, she stood up to butter her own toast, before starting in. They ate in silence, and she kept her eyes lowered, not wishing Thanadir to feel stared at. It was genuinely nice to see that he was...solid in appearance, once again. He had an elegant face, when his features were neutral or smiling. On some level, she felt grateful to know that Thranduil had had someone to faithfully help him, for such a very long time.

He'd done very well, with the breakfast, too, even seasoning the food correctly. For a moment, she stopped chewing, as it struck her. _A King had cooked her a meal...that didn't happen every day._ Sighing at how much she never could have guessed would happen to her, she gently ran her hands over the necklace. Now that she understood what it did, she had begun to feel differently about it. It was like his arms around her, all the time. That he would protect her in this manner was something she was still digesting, but mostly she felt...touched.

When everything was cleaned up from breakfast, she saw that the two ellyn had migrated to her books. They were both seated on the couch, and Thranduil was rapidly speaking, quietly, to Thanadir, showing him the pages of the Atlas.

Earlene had already determined that tonight's meal would consist of roast fowl, roasted root vegetables, duchess potatoes, salad, and bread pudding with a whisky sauce. To tackle it, she elected to work on it in stages; this would give her a break from so much time at the computer. She would brine the chicken now, peel and slice the potatoes and root vegetables, and wash the salad fruits and greens so that they might dry a bit before she chopped them. She politely approached the two ellyn, waiting to be acknowledged. They had stopped speaking, but were both absorbed still in the maps and pages before them. Finally Thranduil looked up at her, as if coming out of a reverie. He had never focused so intently on anything, that she could recall.

"Yes, Earlene?" he asked kindly.

"I am sorry to interrupt, my Lord. I wanted to ask if you would mind, if I played music while I worked. I have no wish to disturb you."

"This is your home, Earlene. You need not ask me, though it is appreciated. Please, do as you prefer." With a smile, he returned his attention to the Atlas.

As she walked to her laptop, she could not help feeling baffled, though she struggled not to allow the thoughts to form. As she selected the music she wished, her mind had a burst of frustration.

 _Wenn es mein Haus ist, warum had alles gestern passiert?_ (If it is my house, then why did all that happen yesterday?)

But just as swiftly, she let it go, glancing half fearfully over at Thranduil. She forced her thoughts elsewhere. Thinking in German, however much her sentiment might have been expressed differently by a native speaker, seemed like the only outlet she had just now. Hopefully, his oversight was limited to the languages he knew? She'd already made one assumption about his mental powers and been wrong. It was entirely best to move on. The soothing strains of the music were already beginning, and she turned her attention to salt concentrations and potato peels.

Earlene was listening to Bach's St. Matthew Passion; one of the epic choral works of the western world. She'd never had an explanation for how much, or why, she loved this piece. Her family had not been religious. The extent of her musical education had been college chorus. The study of German had been left behind in high school. Though, she'd invested a lot of effort in learning it at the time, and did passably well.

Near as she'd been able to tell, it was the power of the sentiments that were expressed. It wasn't necessary to believe whether or not Jesus existed, or whether any of those things actually happened...the point was, those same kinds of sorrows could and did happen to real people.

And the emotion of this music...it was of no concern to her that most people didn't care about or understand this piece. She did, and especially since...that day...anything that could depict the sorrows of what could happen in this life, with a beauty and poignance that twisted her heart up and wrung out every last drop...that was all that mattered to her. There were times when she wondered if the real reason she'd stuck with the German was just to be able to understand...this. No one else knew, and she didn't care.

Her food preparations were completed and she was into her Inbox before the arias had a chance to begin...the piece was over three hours long, so it was also a decent hourglass of sorts. With one last glance at the still raptly absorbed ellyn, and a great sigh, her fingers began typing responses until noontime approached. She'd given thought to dinner, but not lunch...which was going to have to be kept simple. A very large can of plum tomatoes went into the blender, to be transferred into a stockpot to simmer, along with tomato paste and herbs. It was not how she preferred to make tomato soup, but in a rush it would have to do. A block of glorious Irish cheddar and sliced bread was laid out to become parmesan crusted grilled cheese sandwiches. A sweet, light slaw of finely shredded and chopped cabbage with a conservative amount of vinegar and red pepper flakes would pass for a salad. It was not too long before she began to catch glances of interest in food, out of the corner of her eye. Smiling to herself, she readied the plates and bowls. And when it was time, she approached the ellyn to politely provide them a few minute's advance notice.

She served them and ate as before. Though this time, she hazarded a few extra glances at Thanadir. It made her feel happy, on some level, to see him enjoying his food. Once, he glanced up at her and smiled, before she could lower her eyes out of respect. It was...nice. After the lunch, Thranduil informed her that Thanadir would not return until the evening meal, and that he would be brining a stool with him. To her surprise, before he departed, he walked up to her and spoke.

"Earlene," he said softly, causing her to actually look at him. "Le hannon."

She smiled, genuinely glad to have helped. "Glassen (you're welcome), she said carefully, bowing her head to him.

As she watched him pace back toward the woods, Thranduil's arm came from behind to encircle her, drawing her near to him.

"My seneschal is very grateful to you, Earlene, and so am I."

"My Lord," she said, to acknowledge him, but little feeling went with it. She would have treated any guest the same, and many creeping and varied emotions did not leave her free to appreciate his words. A way to change the subject quickly presented itself. "You were both enjoying the atlas, my King?"

Her efforts appeared to be successful. "Thanadir and I need to acquire an education, Earlene. Studying the maps of the world seemed like a good place to start.

She nodded, absently. "What do you wish to know most, if I may ask?"

He reflected for a few minutes. "I wish to know most what affected the place in which we find ourselves. We need to understand what people believe, think, and how they view their lives. How humans see their world." He paused. "Earlene, if I have not made it plain before, I would like to establish...ties...with the people who live nearby. But no further. I have no wish to bring your modern world crashing down on our heads. Though, my power is sufficient for us to close the gates of my Halls, and pass out of memory once again, should the need arise. But what I would like most is to be on friendly terms with those living in Lasg'len. They have honored us, in their own way, and we have given them some small service in return, though it was ever unspoken. Our isolation has left us ignorant of all that has gone on around us, and it does not strike me as the best way to move forward."

She nodded choosing her words carefully. "To understand the present, you must understand the past, the things that shaped us and brought us to how we presently live." She walked to the shelf and selected a book. "History is a complex subject with us, Thranduil, as there are so very many people, with so many different backgrounds. Every person, one might argue, has their own truth. But events occurred which influenced all, and it would be well for you to know of those. We live in what we refer to as the Western World...while it is an ambiguous concept in some respects, it loosely refers to the countries and peoples that share common cultural values.

Ireland is in Europe, which saw many struggles, but especially in the last centuries." Handing him the book she'd chosen, she said "You can look over what is in here. Use it to gain an overview, not to read every word. Ask me questions; there will be much that will be confusing. Our world is a very big place, these days. This will give you a foundation on which to add more knowledge. There are many excellent programs...like movies, but designed to teach with both words and images. These will help you learn quicker."

He accepted it from her, with a frown. "How many people is 'very many people', Earlene?"

"More than seven billion, my Lord."

Thranduil grew quiet. "I do not know this number, meluieg."

She had learned that the Eldar had used a duodecimal numerical system and...she was not a mathematician. "My Lord, humans reckon numbers in groups of ten, and not twelve. You know the use of a hundred, and thousand, do you not?"

"Yes."

Speaking with deliberate slowness, she said: "A thousand thousands is called a million. And a thousand million is called a billion. Does that allow you to understand?" She looked at him hopefully, dreading having to come up with a better way to explain it.

"It does." Taking the book back to the couch, he sat and opened it. Seeing that he was occupied, she retrieved a kitchen timer and went to her room. Turning the dial to twenty minutes, she flopped back on the bed, feeling increasingly unsettled. She sat up. _No, 'unsettled' wasn't the problem...hadn't she been through this enough times?_

Rooting through her unpacked box of bathroom supplies, she found the prescription bottle she'd not used in quite awhile. It came and went, that she needed them, and she was not about to wait until she completely unraveled. That mistake had been made once or twice already. Breaking off a small piece of the diminutive blue pill, she quickly swallowed it, tucking the rest in her pocket, and laid down again. It was not exactly a surprise, after yesterday, that she'd be in difficulty again for awhile.

Her meltdown had done so much more than earn punishment for striking the King. Scars were torn open that had managed to settle after years of struggle, and had been fairly stable for some time. Becoming so angry like that...she placed her hands over her eyes. If she could just stop thinking, just send the memories and the feelings back into their little hole, then she would be alright. She could go back to pretending that it had happened in some other life. Yesterday had definitely not helped...not at all. Her mementos and her photo of her friends...those weren't the problem. Those were the emblems of carrying on, to her. But what he'd said, and what he'd made her feel, and talk about; for that, she would suffer. That he didn't understand, beyond the most basic comprehension, also didn't help. Earlene shoved her hands into her eyes harder, reflexively willing herself to think about other things. There were long lists of favorite poems she had memorized, to force her mind away. " _I met a Traveler from an antique land Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone... "_

It helped. When the timer rang, she could feel the medication disconnecting her feelings, and her mind was clearer. Rising, she washed her hands and continued to work. When the sun lowered, she heard the thrum of Ian's lorry. Quickly finding her clogs, she went out to greet him. With a happy expression, she thanked him for the wonderful time she'd had at the pub the other day. His face broke out in a broad smile, which dampened only a little as Thranduil came up behind her.

"Earlene," he said softly, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "Allow me to care for the firewood. Please, return inside to where it is warm." Smiling up gratefully at him, she nodded, and bade Ian a good day before resuming her cooking. Ian nodded his head respectfully to Thranduil, and the two worked in silence to offload the wood. Soon enough, the lorry departed.

Thanadir arrived with perfect timing for her meal, sparing himself the sight of his King carrying firewood into the house. Best of all, he'd brought a stool on which she might sit. Oddly enough, it was a fairly close replica of her simple wooden stools, which made her wonder how that had just happened to be in the King's Halls...but she supposed a lot of things were in there, from her place of pleasant detachment. From time to time, she would break off the tiniest little pieces of the tablet in her pocket, to make sure it would not wear off. She had learned to be so subtle about using this medication that was impossible to notice what she was doing; to all external appearances, she was taking a random nibble at her fingertip every so many hours. Years of practice had allowed her to know just how much to use to stifle the intolerable feelings, while still remaining highly functional. Even functional enough to write out more Sindarin grammar tables, and review lists of common phrases.

Dinner had gone off very well, and the food met her expectations. Thanadir had even been moved to say "This is delicious" in English, so she reasoned that it must be high praise, indeed. She'd seen the elf smile more than once today, which meant that everything must be 'seemly.' It still made her smile, to recall some of the descriptors Thranduil had used for him. Truthfully, Thanadir reminded Earlene a great deal of a particular bailiff that worked at the District Courthouse in lower Manhattan, and who had, in polite language, an 'overly keen sense of protocol.' He had driven many of her colleagues to a double scotch and soda after work, but she had always found him...cute. Yes, Thanadir was also decidedly cute. Unwittingly, a large smile formed on her face as she collected the dishes to the sink.

Her reverie was broken by arms around her waist. "And do you find me cute as well, meluieg?" he asked, teasingly. Thranduil had noticed that her previously unsteady mood had transformed into one that was quite calm and relaxed, of which he was glad. And having no understanding of things like Xanax, he was oblivious to what he was actually perceiving.

"No, my Lord, you are not cute." The barest smile curled at the sides of her mouth as she felt herself gently turned around, and her face lifted to look at him.

"If I am not cute, then what am I?" There was no sarcasm or amusement in his eyes, only genuine curiosity.

As she looked up at him, her mind was a perfect blank. A long list of synonyms raced past, but none quite sufficed. "You are...aesthetically pleasing to a degree that exceeds the vocabulary of our language," my Lord. "And dignified. And...powerful." Her voice became quiet on the last word.

Thranduil did not understand, but he perceived that she was becoming uncomfortable, and he had no wish to make it worse. "Thank you for indulging my question, Earlene. Would you like to see the film, now?" he asked brightly.

She nodded, having almost forgotten. _The washing could wait_ , she reasoned; _the dishes were soaking._

Soon she was nestled in his lap, curious to see how the many storylines concluded. The courage, and struggle she watched were no longer something she could view as dispassionately as when she'd seen the first two films. And she felt genuinely sorry for Thranduil. When the hobbits traversed the Dead Marshes, she felt him bury his head in her neck. At first she was puzzled, but then asked, "Is this the same place...?" She felt him nodding, and reached to hold onto his arms. No one had to explain the pain of loss to her; this was another depiction of where his father had been killed.

Halfway through, she asked if he'd like tea, which was a well-hidden pretense to get at the rest of what was in her pocket...the film was provoking too many feelings. Placing two steaming mugs on the coffee table, she returned to his arms. Soon enough, she gratefully could feel nothing at all. There was so much happening, she thought. She had to pause to ask about Shelob, and was told that the spider was a lesser descendant of something far worse and larger. It was difficult to accept, and no one in their right mind would want to face such a creature. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields was terrifying to watch; everything seemed so real. Unconsciously, she pulled his arms tighter around her. It was only now filtering in, that what she'd wanted most today was this. The safety of his arms, and the sense of his protection.

The drama of the Ring itself was tremendous to her, because she also felt like she could too well understand something having a power that could not be resisted or denied. _Somethings_ , she thought. But what caught her very badly, was something she did not expect. When the Ring was destroyed, and the Dark Tower fell, she froze at the sight of the great structure disintegrating and falling into rubble and dust. She had to close her eyes and look away. Thranduil sensed her agitation, but misunderstood its origin. Earlene was still grateful, that he held her tighter. She found Aragorn's coronation to be very beautiful; the plaintive song he sang was filled with emotion.

"My Lord, what did he sing?" she asked, pausing it again.

"That is the Oath of Elendil, Earlene. It is spoken in Quenya. Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, _unto the ending of the world."_

She nodded, kissing his hand in thanks.

When it was ended, and the ship departed from the Gray Havens, she realized that in some ways she knew less than she did before...but it was a magnificent tale, and showed much that was beautiful. _Three more to go_ , she thought.

He tended the stove while she brushed her teeth and undressed for bed, reaching for her long shirt. Instead her hand was deftly caught, and she was swept up and placed into bed as she was.

"As you wish, my King," she smiled, curling up against the chill of the sheets. In less than a minute, he was with her, as she reached to be against his warmth. When she was held securely against him and sighing in contentment, he spoke in what was probably the most gentle voice she'd yet heard from him.

"Meluieg, something is different, inside of you. I can feel that you are struggling, and I do not understand. Would you tell me?"

He could feel a wave of fear roil through her. Frankly, he too felt some fear. It did not escape him that this was not present in her...before. Though he did not believe this was about his punishment of her, he was not entirely certain. What he could be certain of was her deep desire to not discuss this, and her dread that he would command her to do so.

"Do you think you could tell me, if you had more time, Earlene?" he whispered.

She nodded against him, and he caught thoughts of her wanting ...some days. And wanting even more to feel that she could find refuge in him. She was trying...to shut something out.

He sighed deeply. "I love you, meluieg. I would help you, if I can. If time is what you need, then I will give it to you." He began to rub her back in slow circles, and much of her agitation began to diminish, replaced by gratitude. She wrapped herself around him and clung to him tightly. Her thoughts were not coherent, but certain images flashed through that he could comprehend. He lowered his face to graze her lips lightly with his, wishing to be certain he was not mistaken. At this light touch, she sought his mouth with eagerness. He responded, even as he sensed that this was something more than lust. What, was impossible to decipher, but one image came through with great clarity; she wanted him to take her, that she might lose herself in him, if only for a short time.

He genuinely wished to give her what she needed, feeling at a loss and worried that he was partly or fully responsible for her current difficulty. He felt, with a brush of his fingers, that she was not prepared for him. He kissed her, and cupped her sex in his hand. As her tongue sought his mouth, Earlene felt a powerful arousal wakening in her. As her desire grew to near desperation, her swollen loins were aching with want. When he brought his hand away, she was more than ready. As he touched her thighs to part them, she eagerly spread them wide for him. The luxurious moan she released as he entered her was different than anything he'd yet heard, and he was puzzled and pleased all at once. There were far more sounds of appreciation and...she was suddenly a much more active partner. He could feel the welcome in her spirit in a greater way than he had before. She matched his efforts with eagerness, even when he used less restraint, gasping with pleasure at his vigor. His arousal ascended until his release burst from his manhood with a groan of relief. As if her body had waited for this, she cried out in delight as her delicately formed hands held onto his hips, straining to pull him into her further. As his essence spread through her once again, tightening her bond, tears ran out of her eyes as she held onto him.

"Earlene, why are you crying?" he asked, concerned.

There were more jumbled images, but he could piece out her gratitude for his lovemaking, and her extreme thanks that he had not forced her to talk to him. As he rubbed her back to soothe her, he was left to consider what had transpired since coming to bed. She fell asleep with him still inside of her, and he lingered a very long time in her body, both in appreciation and reflection.

* * *

[Quote of poetry is from "Ozymandias" by P. B. Shelley]


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter introduces the much-loved Lorna, the redoubtable OFC from Spamberguesa's Ettelëaverse series. Mick is also Spamberguesa's OC. Obviously, Spamberguesa and I co-wrote the chapter. This was the first time I've ever worked with another writer, and it was a ton of fun...as are the chapters still being worked on :-)

* * *

Two days passed, following a predictable pattern of cooking, and everyone studying or working at...everything. In some ways she felt like her home had become a college dorm room, and her suite mates just happened to be elves. There were no more films for the moment, by consensus. When Earlene had time from emails, preparing food, and finally ordering two suitable laptops, she would play select videos about history that they would all watch together. She keyed in on ones that discussed Ireland/England/Scotland, because that tangle had gone on longer than anything had a right to.

She needed to be able to establish gently that monarchy had been...not a rousing success here, depending on one's viewpoint. And really, they had to know about the Revolutionary War; they could not afford to be set with Cuchulain and Finn MacCool but not know that Britain used to be the Empire "on which the sun never set." Besides, she had no doubt that if she could coax Thranduil to the pub sooner or later, he'd get a personal enough summary on the proud traditions of Éire. It was hard to determine how much Thanadir understood, but she kept the subtitles running and her fingers crossed.

While she'd kept herself medicated the day after he'd asked her to confide in him, as a precaution, she'd been mostly okay yesterday. And today, it was the same...there were moments that the thoughts and feelings started to intrude and other times when she could keep them at a distance. It was a strict rule with her that she not use the tablets more than two days running without at least one day off, even though she ordinarily used so little. They could be habit forming, and she wasn't going to add that to her list of problems. But most of what had helped her to climb out, a bit, was that he'd allowed her some freedom in not forcing her to talk. Her gratitude for his compassion was bottomless, and it made her feel like she didn't have to be afraid that she wouldn't get through this.

Today, though, she had looked at one future tense verb too many. All of the stems and endings were muddled in her head, and she was not retaining anything. It was pointless. She resolved that after lunch, the house needed more groceries, whether it did or not. After a pleasant bicycle ride to town, she took her usual sweet time fussing through the store, and chatted a bit with Aislinn when she paid. There might be a lead on a farm that could supply larger volumes of cabbage, but she would need another week or two to be certain, the lady had said.

Frowning to herself while remaining outwardly pleasant, Earlene had a different notion about the state of her inquiry...and the root cause of the dragging feet... she would talk to Thranduil later. Tucking all her goods in the trailer, she found herself drawn to the pub.

Once again Earlene had some hours before she was expected back, and nothing sounded finer than another trip to The Spotted Dick. The odds were solidly in her favor that the village had run out of strange men looking to manhandle women. Or, so she hoped. Though, her general self-assurances did not stop her from looking carefully around and keeping alert, as she locked up her bicycle and trailer.

As she walked inside and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light, it was obvious that it was a little too early to find much company here. A feeling of vague disappointment washed over her; she'd genuinely hoped for the easy joviality that Ian and his mates had brought to her day the last time she'd dropped by. Greeting John behind the bar, she ordered her pint of stout, and took it to a quiet table. In a very short space of time, she found her mood shifting downward again. It wasn't necessarily a surprise...and the beer would either lift it up or sink it lower.

Only after she was five good sips into the brew did she begin really looking around. Surprised, she now noticed a woman, sitting alone at the back. Earlene thought she was fabulously striking; while appearing to be very petite, she had the most amazing mane of dark hair. It was not often that one met a woman who kept her hair past-the-waist long, and hers was filled with body that glinted in the low light. Not wishing to stare, she quickly looked back into the chocolate brown depths of her glass. She sighed, completely torn between the inclination to be alone, and the fact that she'd come in here in the first place to be with people.

Glancing up, she could feel her own hesitation. _What was the matter with her?_ While she liked her own solitude, and was admittedly struggling with her emotions, it was really not normal for her to sit around second guessing whether she should introduce herself to someone. Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized that it was a little harder, out in the world, to carry the sum of her life with Thranduil on her shoulders.

 _I know that I love Thranduil, and on most levels I truly want to be at his side,_ she thought. _But there is something about this that feels like scrambled eggs, and I know it the most when I come to town. Why is it so hard, to think about telling him that I am really a sham, a mess who has struggled for years with PTSD, on and off? He's obviously trying to help me. Is this about him being a King? Thanadir lives under the same rules as I do, and has for thousands of years. He is beyond content. But then again, when I am with Thranduil, I don't feel this way. Or maybe it is about, that I don't believe he can understand in the way I need him to. Then again, who fucking can?_ She sighed. _I am starting to understand why people want to drink. With or without Xanax._

Looking up suddenly, she realized that she was no longer alone. The woman had moved from across the room, and was now standing near her. Earlene found herself scrutinized by piercing green eyes, staring out of a diminutive face that held no small measure of hardness and calculation. For better or worse, Earlene's first impression was that whoever this was, she'd be fine walking home through the streets of downtown Brooklyn at 3am, and god help whoever tried to lay a finger on her.

There weren't many new people, in a village this small; so far as Lorna knew, she'd been the first one in two years. She'd heard an American had moved into the house beside the forest not so long ago, but this was the first time she'd actually seen her. Lorna had never actually met an American, and curiosity compelled her to introduce herself.

"You're the other new one, aren't you?" she asked, taking care to enunciate so she'd actually be understood. Even other Irish people could have a hard time understanding her, so an American might not realize she was speaking English at first. "I'm Lorna. Grand to meet you here."

Earlene smiled, completely charmed by her speech. She knew she might live here for forty years, and never sound like anything but a New Yorker lost in another country. "Thank you...I'm Earlene, pleased to meet you. And yes, I'm the new one. Is there another one? It's only my second time coming to town, I haven't gotten out much. Can I buy you a Guinness?" She gestured at the next stool, hoping that Lorna might be willing to join her for a bit. Aislinn at the grocery had seemed very nice, but it was clear that there was little there over which to try and make a new friend...at least for right now.

"I'm the other one," Lorna said, with a smile, hopping up onto one of the barstools. Her feet dangled a good foot off the ground. "Mick over there, he runs the mechanic, and he's broken his arm. I told him I'd fill in until he had his cast off." She nodded to a tall, rather burly dark-haired man sitting beside the fire, the cast on his left arm both grubby and covered in the signatures of half the village. "I'd love a Guinness, but only if you let me buy the next round." She'd always heard that Americans were meant to be unpleasant people, but Earlene was one of the politest people Lorna had met in quite a while. "Where're you from? I can't place American accents at all."

Earlene laughed. "Okay, I earned a 'fail' on that one, I didn't register that you are new as well. And I accept your offer, as long as you let me buy one for Mick." _So much for my legendary analytical abilities today_ , she thought ruefully. "I'm from New York City. I lived in Queens, worked in Manhattan. But originally I'm from upstate, where it's a lot more like it is here...rural, smaller towns. And you? It's really nice of you, to help your friend out like that."

Lorna couldn't help but laugh. "If you do, he'll be your friend forever. I've known that man for twenty years, and the way to his heart's through the bottom'v a pint glass." Her knowledge of New York City began and ended with Ghostbusters and 9/11, but from everything she'd ever heard, it could put Dublin to shame in some ways. "I'm Dublin-born myself, but I moved into my sister's village when I was twenty-eight, and I've never wanted to go back to the city." She shifted a little, trying to disentangle her hair from around one of the stool's spindles. It was no wonder her sister called her Cousin It. "What sent you to the big city? I know loads want to live in New York, but I've heard the housing prices are absolutely lethal."

"Well by all means Mick gets a pint, then," Earlene said with her eyes twinkling. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with a man who's got his romantic priorities in order." Earlene looked down for a moment, considering her next words. "Don't feel bad, what I know of Dublin is a few James Joyce stories and...it's in Ireland. Pretty bad of me; I've a lot to learn. For me, I guess you could say that what sent me to the City is ultimately what sent me away. I went there for law school, and never left. It was all very...larger than life, but the sense grew that I didn't belong anymore. And here I am. You're dead on, the prices now are awful...though, it worked out for me, when I sold what I had to move here. Let's just say it was a one-way trip."

Law school. Jesus. Lorna wasn't going to mention that she didn't even get her Leaving Certificate until she was thirty-five, and she definitely wasn't ever going to let on about her stint in prison. "You'll find loads like him, in these little villages. I know we've a reputation for being a load'v drunks, but it's not entirely undeserved," she said, with a snort. "As for not knowing much about Dublin, I ran across some eejit on the internet who thought it was in Scotland." She eyed Earlene closely. The woman seemed incredibly healthy - Lorna knew a few people who would murder someone for her complexion - but there was something...strained about her. Lorna had tended bar long enough that she'd grown good at reading people, and she'd lay money something was eating at Earlene. Mairead had bludgeoned enough tact into her that she knew better than to ask right away, but something just felt off. "Met any blokes around here? I've always got to do my duty and tell my sister if there was somebody worth looking at, that I didn't want to look at."*

Earlene mulled over Lorna carefully, as she took a hefty swig. She felt almost a little desperate to make friends here, and had worried that people finding out about her life before she came here would work against her. Badly. Sighing, she decided to take a risk. It'd either piss this poor woman off, or set her at ease.

"Look, I'm going to be honest. I was a big shot corporate lawyer, doing all kinds of things that no one here is going to care about in the least. I never worked for people, I worked for big businesses and….seriously, so what. Please don't feel like what I used to do or know matters, because it doesn't. I showed up here to raise goats and have a garden and...I just want to have a prayer of fitting in, a little bit. We had small towns back home, and I know what it's like...I don't expect to ever really belong here. And it's OK. Mostly, I kind of keep to myself. Or at least I did, before I got here."

Tipping another swallow down her throat, she started reeling herself in. _Don't be TMI, Earlene. No one wants to hear too much all at once._

Smiling again, she looked up at Lorna. "I guess you could say I've met a bloke, though I'm not quite sure how to explain him, exactly. Maybe one of the locals here can do a better job of it than I can. It seems that my house, unbeknownst to me until I got here, is in an interesting location. You might say it is looked out for by someone with an ongoing interest in the property. We, ah, hit it off right away, and suddenly I've got a man in my life. Honestly, there are days I feel like I'm still trying to understand myself…" she trailed off, but then her eyes brightened. "He is definitely worth looking at. Or at least, I thought so. Though, he might be more than a little touchy if anyone did. Look, that is. He's on the dignified side, for lack of better words."

Lorna ran her finger around the edge of her mug, pondering. She wasn't eloquent at the best of times, but she wanted to be reassuring. "I doubt anyone'd be able to understand what you've done for work anyway, but you'd be surprised, with these little villages," she said. "They'll adopt you, if you let them. When I moved to Baile, I didn't know a soul - I'd never even met my sister until the day she came and got me. They're little, and they're...insular, I guess you could say, but once you're one'v theirs, you're one'v theirs forever. They can be more of a home than you'd ever find in the city, no matter how many friends you had there." She laughed. "Sure, anybody's business is everybody's, if you get my drift, but people don't judge too hard. Not unless there's drugs, anyway." Not that many in her village knew the full scope of her past, and that included the rather fantastic array of drugs she'd taken in her teenage years. It was a miracle she hadn't fried her brain.

She looked up at Earlene, arching an eyebrow. "Good, I'll tell my sister you've taken the interesting one. Just be sure he treats you right, or sooner or later someone'll lamp him out." It might just be her, too. She'd come a long way from her violent youth, but...well, sometimes working in a bar meant you had to punch someone, and she couldn't say she minded. That this man would be hard to explain...she'd ask Mick just what the hell that meant, because God knew it could mean all sorts of things. "The good ones - they're hard to find, but when you do...hell, listen to me rattle on. Once you've had a good one, you'll never want another." Even now, it was hard to think of Liam without pain. He'd been the best of the best, and she had no interest in looking again. Not that Mairead would ever listen.

Earlene looked at her wryly. "I can't claim to be an expert, since this is my first serious relationship. But I feel pretty safe saying I'll never be able to want another." She shook her head slightly, realizing that she really could say no more on that just now, without painting herself into a corner. _How do you tell another person that there never_ can _be someone else? And why? It's impossible._ Pulling herself out of her reverie, she forced herself to say something less cryptic. "If you're around long enough, you'll meet him sooner or later. He's been wonderful, to put it mildly. He takes good care of me. If you ever get tired of the mechanic, my place is just up the road, a little over two miles, at the edge of the woods. I'm not always in, but if lights are on, I'm home. The kettle is quick to heat, and I've usually got something decent cooking. Ian comes by every other day, to bring firewood and check in...he knows the place. And...thanks for what you said, about fitting in. Even though I wanted to, it wasn't easy to leave what was familiar. And my friends, um...all left the City before I did. So, I am hoping to make some here." She paused, grinning. "And I never did street drugs, unless books count."

Lorna couldn't claim much experience there, either. "I only had one, but he was the only one I'd ever want," she said, draining the last of her Guinness. "I'd...I'd like to come by your house, if you're in." She didn't have - and never had - very many female friends, and Earlene was definitely a different sort to the others in this village and in Baile. People with higher education didn't tend to return; those that were left were more like Lorna, who might have done a load of reading without anything to show for it. "I'm staying in Mick's spare room, and his flat - well, you can tell he's a bachelor." Her first day in, she'd had to go around with a mop and a bucket of Pine-Sol, and throw approximately eight thousand dirty socks into a rubbish sack and stick them outside, just to air the place out. She'd lived like a civilized person for far too long. "I think you'll get on just fine here. And if you're ever in need of a holiday, Baile's not far. We haven't got a forest like that one, but we do burn all the potato stalks off in the fall and get completely ossified. Drunk," she clarified. "Christ, I ought to make you up a list of Irish slang, so you don't get turned around to hell and back. I'll slap that together before I see you next. My boss sent some'v his own home-brew with me, so we can have a pint. If that lad'v yours is in, he can have some, too."

Lorna definitely made her smile, she thought. "The flat sounds….vaguely horrifying," Earlene said with a wide grin. "I'll take a guess that you are saying, in the nicest possible way, that his dwelling is less than spotless. I guess I'm lucky in that Thranduil is quite possibly neater than I am. And I'd love some homemade beer...fear not, about the Irish-isms. I won't claim to have heard them all, but the only ones I'm missing are the ones that the Internet forgot."

"Pretty much," Lorna said, trying to smother a laugh and failing. Whatever that name was, it definitely wasn't Irish. "It's good you've done your homework, because people coming in from the outside sometimes can't tell we're even speaking English. Don't be offended if you go hearing any'v us calling one another cunts, either - I know it's a terrible insult in the States, but it's not at all here. It usually gets thrown at inanimate objects, actually." Somebody from America would probably find the idea of a person calling their car a cunt bizarre, but, well, Ireland was Ireland. It didn't necessarily make sense even to the Irish. "If you tell people it bothers you, they'll try to leave off, but I can't promise they'll succeed, especially if they've been at the bottle."

Maybe it was the stout working its magic, but this declaration sent Earlene into soft and nearly helpless laughter. When she settled enough to talk again, she knuckled a tear from her eye. "Lorna, all that is exactly why I moved here. My gran was Irish, though she came to the States long ago. None of that bothers me...you have to understand that I never owned a car in the City. Mostly I rode the subway, and let's just say 'cunt' might be one of the nicer things I heard at six o'clock most mornings. While I hate to say bad things about our Gotham, the truth is that most New Yorkers, ah, to use the vernacular, 'give no fucks' about what bothers anybody. Not to mention, when I was fourteen years old, I once heard gran call the farm tractor 'a filthy whore' when it wouldn't start up...not quite the same, but at the time it got my attention." The memory made Earlene start laughing all over again.

Lorna's eyebrows rose. "Your gran was Irish? Well, then coming here is just you coming home. Let that get about the village and they'll take you in whether you want them to or not." She paused a moment, thoughtful. "There's something worse than 'cunt' in America? I'm not sure I want to know. My gran always told me profanity's a crutch for the inarticulate motherfucker. Not that's stopped...well, the Irish. Any'v us." Tossing her mug from hand to hand, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly warm through her veins, she said, "Come into the pub some night when everyone's around, and tell them where your gran's from. A lot'v Irish had to immigrate after the Rising, right up through the sixties, and it was always painful. We always wanted them to come home, and now you have. That'll count for more than you'd think."

Earlene giggled. "I should clarify. I'm not sure there is a way to 'rate' profanity in the subways. All I can say is, you haven't lived until you've heard a very overweight black lady who had a bad time on the night shift telling off a rude teenager who just stole her seat. I can't even say what words get used….it has so much more to do with the attitude behind whatever gets said. And all of that kind of goes double if you're walking through Little Italy when two Nonas are arguing out their windows. And, gran came from Belfast...though she was a very little girl when she did….consequently she became very American, very fast. Rumor has it, her family missed getting on the Titanic by two weeks."

"The Titanic? Christ," Lorna said. "There's luck and then some." Belfast hadn't been in the North yet, then, so it wouldn't count against Earlene.

As Earlene noted that their glasses were far too empty, she excused herself briefly to get three more pints from John.

Lorna was going to have to explain a few of the issues the Republic and the North had with one another, assuming she didn't already know - she'd done her homework on the slang, so odds were good she did, but it was best to be safe. The younger people just made fun of the North, but people Lorna's age and older remembered the Troubles all too clearly. 9/11 had eclipsed them all, but she'd grown up hearing about the bombings and the shootings, though she hadn't understood until she was much older.

She glanced at Mick, wondering if he was still sober enough to be half-decent company. His face wasn't overly red, so she waved him over. "Careful you don't trip and knock yourself out with your own cast," she called, grinning when he flipped her off. "Or break your other arm."

"Sod off," he said cheerfully, slurring only a tiny bit. "You're the reason my flat stinks like a bloody pine tree. I liked the socks."

"I'm sure you did. Earlene's gone for more drinks, so sit down before you fall down. You never could hold your alcohol, for all you're built like a tank."

Earlene returned and set down the glasses with a smile. "Mick, I'm Earlene, it's a pleasure to meet you. I wish I'd be one of your customers, but the wisdom of Ireland is such that it's pure hell to get a license for driving here...so it's just going to be a bicycle for me, no car." She extended her hand to him in greeting.

"Grand to meet you," he said, shaking her hand rather awkwardly with his left. "Living out here, there's not much cause to need one, really. If you've got to go shopping in the city or the like, Donal's got a van for hire. It usually runs."

Lorna snorted into her Guinness before she could help it. "If he'd pay for a new bloody carburetor, it'd run more often. I'm tempted to break into his garage and change it myself, and leave the bill stuck to his bathroom mirror. I've a motorcycle myself, if you ever need to get anywhere in a hurry."

"Don't do it," Mick warned. "I've ridden passenger with her. How she's not a smear on the motorway yet, I've no idea. People in Ireland either drive like grannies or maniacs, so you might be best off without a car anyway. I think the license is so hard to get because the government hopes it'll keep the worst'v the lunatics off the roads."

Earlene's eyebrows shot up as she swallowed a generous portion of her beer, reasoning that if a little was good, a little more was better, just now. She was feeling more relaxed than she'd had in…a few days. Her agendas did not particularly include motorcycles or vehicular maniacs, but she'd no wish to be rude to her new friend. Instead, she chuckled at Mick's warnings. "No worries. I was sort of relying on to take care of any big needs. Honestly I can't imagine why I'd ever need to leave the village at this point, unless it was for something Thranduil required. I came here to sort of dig in, like a badger, and not be budged too far. But it is good to know about the van, just in case. I'm hoping to start a decent garden soon, maybe even look at how to get chickens or a dairy animal. If I wanted to look at roads and traffic, I would've stayed put." For a moment, she was quiet, and then eyed Mick, who seemed to be a substantial specimen. He was clearly a sheet or two to the wind already, but she liked the man. Good-naturedness seemed to flow off of him.

Taking an extremely healthy draught, and then glancing at her watch, Erlene mumbled "Shite," and then laughed. "You both are rubbing off on me, and it only took one round. You're both going to think me rude, but I can only stay about ten more minutes...Thranduil has a friend coming for dinner, and I have a meat pie that needs to meet the inside of my oven at the right time, or I'll toss a wrench in the gears. I hope you'll let me take a rain check, on the next round. But before I go, I want to hear how you learned to be a mechanic, Lorna. I meet precious few women who know the difference between vise grips and a socket set."

Lorna laughed. "My gran always used to say that time waits for no one. An old friend taught me mechanics, about eight years ago. He told me hands as small as mine were perfect for digging around in an engine." She wasn't going to mention that her 'old friend' had been the leader of the gang she'd lived with as a teenager, and if Mick decided to, she'd fetch him such a slap.

No sooner had Lorna finished her answer, than Ian and company entered the pub.

Earlene smiled. "Well, I'd originally thought my timing was bad this afternoon, but then I was able to meet both of you. It has truly been a pleasure, and I look forward to seeing you again, either at my house or...do you come here every day, Lorna?"

"I'm not here every day, but I've got an email address," Lorna said, fishing a slightly leaky pen out of her pocket. She jotted it down on a napkin, taking care to make it actually legible to someone other than herself.

Earlene hurriedly scribbled her own email on a paper coaster, and handed it to Lorna, smiling. Wishing to duck out before she had to spend another twenty minutes explaining to everyone who'd just arrived why she couldn't stay, she tipped back the last of her pint and said goodbye to her new friends. As she walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, her spirits felt considerably lighter than when she'd arrived. _I think I need to start coming a bit more often_ , was her firm conviction as she unlocked her bicycle and headed off.

When Earlene had been gone a few minutes, , Lorna gave Mick a dig with her foot. "What's up with this bloke of Earlene's?" she asked. The way the woman had spoken of him…Lorna didn't know why, but it made her seriously wonder. "I've never heard the name Thranduil before. Is he some kind'v immigrant, or did he just have really weird parents?"

Mick downed the last of his pint, and now that Earlene was gone, he let out a truly impressive belch. "You'd have to talk to Ian," he said, waving the old man over.

Ian looked like the sort of old man you found in many a village in Ireland, who'd worked hard all his life and would probably keep on until he dropped. "Talk to me about what?" he asked, climbing onto Earlene's vacated stool.

"Lorna here says Earlene claims a bloke named Thranduil, at her house, as her man. You didn't say that Earlene was with him, the other day."

"I didn't know for sure," Ian said, flagging down the barman. "One doesn't guess what the fair folk are doing."

Lorna's eyebrows practically climbed into her hairline. She probably shouldn't be surprised the old man would be so superstitious; God knew her gran had been, and Lorna had gone along with it to humor her. Still… "What in bloody hell d'you mean, 'fair folk'?"

Ian ordered his pint, and took a long swig when it was handed to him. "Earlene's bloke isn't a bloke; she's got herself mixed up with the elves in the woods. Didn't you see her necklace?"

Elves. Of bloody course. "What elves in the wood, and what necklace?" Christ, this was a bit elaborate even for village pensioner superstition. Granted, woods of that size were begging to have ghost stories attached to them, but still. She wasn't nearly drunk enough for this conversation.

"Ask Mick," Ian said, raising his pint in a vague toast to who knew what. "As long as we've been here, everyone knows the woods of Lasg'len are protected. We don't talk about it to outsiders. The elves protect the forest, and we shut up about it. It's ever been that way. If we respect them, they respect us. Earlene's house is actually in the Woods of Lasg'len, and I didn't think it would be long before something happened. 'Tis a shame though, Earlene said it herself. 'No one told her he came with the house'...set up she was, buying that place with no way to know better. And, Lorna, take a good look at her next time; she wears the elf's necklace. It's hard to miss, it's about a bank vault's worth of diamonds. It means, she is under his protection. And if she's under his protection, she's his. Earlene seems happy enough, and she's being treated well. Any bloke that will help his lady stack firewood, elf or man, is decent enough by me. He spoke to me one time I was out there, and was kind and pleasant enough...though he wore something like a crown, which was hard to miss. Told me I didn't need to be afraid of him."

His? His? That sent all kinds of warning bells clanging in Lorna's mind. Earlene had had a jumper on, so for all Lorna knew, she really was wearing some kind of necklace. "How in bloody hell would a necklace be protection?" she asked. "And what in God's name d'you mean, she's his?" She wasn't even going to touch the 'crown' bit yet.

Ian glanced at Mick. "Didn't you tell her what happened to Earlene, a few days ago?"

Mick hesitated, and Lorna barely resisted the urge to brain him with his own mug. "If somebody doesn't start making sense in the next five bloody seconds, you'll all regret it," she growled. Ian might dismiss her as all bluff, but Mick had known her since her gang days. He knew better.

"She left here, and some sleazy bloke followed her out and tried to grab her," he said. "The lads saw what was happening, and went out to help. He was barely alive on the ground when they got there, struck down for touching her. That necklace is the protection of the elf king, Lorna."

Protection – had she fallen into the bloody Twilight Zone? Ian, sure, she could see how he'd buy this line of garbage, being old and rural, but Mick had grown up in Dublin. Their sort weren't known for their imagination, yet he seemed to genuinely believe this load of crap. "What happened to the bloke who grabbed her?" she asked, finishing off her pint in three long swallows. She needed far more alcohol, if she was to continue this lunacy.

Rory, the village's resident eccentric recluse, meandered over, weaving a little. "He might'v ended up in the dumpster out back. It's hard to say, what with collection having been the next morning. No one here is going to take kindly to anyone who wants to interfere with the elves or what the elves claim as their own, Lorna. I don't expect you to understand, but...it's part of being from Lasg'len. We watch out for them, and in a strange sort of way, they keep the woods beautiful and whole for us. Not to mention, when trouble comes to the village, it almost always seems drawn to the woods. And when trouble goes in there, it doesn't come out again. I've no complaints."

Great, it was a mass delusion. It didn't surprise her that anything that went into that forest didn't come out – it was damn easy to get lost in the woods. She'd done it herself, several times. "Mick, I can't believe you'd buy into this," she said, shaking her head. The entire story was utter nonsense, but some of what Earlene had said… She'd said she was inexperienced with men; she could be easy prey for some arsehole who could talk smooth enough. Lorna had seen exactly how that ended, and it was never well.

But she didn't actually know shite yet. She'd meet this Thranduil sooner or later, and draw her own conclusions. And if she had to lamp him out…well, it had been a while. She had no use whatsoever for controlling men, and if Earlene needed saving from herself, Lorna would do it, if it was within her power.

Mick eyed her closely. He knew Lorna, and her history – and, most importantly, what she'd done to the last man who'd claimed he'd owned someone. "Lorna, the elves, they're not human. They're dangerous, and powerful, and I don't think pissing one off for no bloody reason would be the world's best idea. This isn't like-" he glanced at Ian. "It's not like when we were young. You can't be…you…and expect the same results."

Lorna still thought he was patently full of shit, but she'd got half a rein on her temper in the last eleven years, and a great deal of sense she hadn't possessed before Mairead and Gran thumped it into her. Patience didn't come naturally to her, but at least she was capable of it now. "Right. Well, if he doesn't piss me off, I'll not piss him off. Gran managed to smack some manners into me, more or less. If he's reasonable, I will be, too." If he wasn't - if he turned out to be what she already feared him to be - well. He'd not be the first such person she'd dealt with.

At least, this time, she'd kicked the narcotics. She wouldn't be committing manslaughter again.

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was just weird, and this lot were reading things into his and Earlene's relationship that weren't actually there. She'd try to reserve judgment until then.


	12. Chapter 12

When Earlene arrived home with the groceries, she was debating the wisdom of having knocked down two beers on a relatively empty stomach, having eaten a light lunch. While she was not drunk, "pleasantly far along" would be a fair descriptor.

Thranduil met her in the barn and kissed her, amused. "And here I thought you preferred wine, meluieg," he teased.

Her cheeks blushed faintly pink, as she held onto him. "I do, my Lord. But I am not certain what the social consequences might be for being seen without beer in one's glass. And as I do not mind the latter, I decided to err on the side of caution."

He looked into her eyes searchingly, learning how she had spent her day. "You did well, Earlene, and I am pleased that you made new friends."

His hand traveled suggestively down the front of her jumper and to the clasp of her jeans. The touch was electric, and confusing, all at the same time. _Here? In the barn?_

Smiling in response to her unasked question, he picked her up, and took her to a nearby bench, cradling her on his lap between his knees. "I am happy to see you in good spirits, meluieg. I offer you something small to keep them thus, until there is more time, later on."

With no added explanation, he positioned her so as to be able to kiss her deeply, and passionately. Instinctively, her arms reached to encircle his neck as she responded to him. Gently, he undid the closure on her jeans, and slipped his hand inside, covering her womanhood with his hand. She gasped as a powerful arousal filled her while insistent lips and tongue demanded equal attention. Quickly it became apparent that even though his hand on her was perfectly still, that this would drive her to completion. In her mind she heard him:

 _The more you allow yourself to relax, the greater your pleasure will be. Open your spirit to me, Earlene._

Compliance was easy, and every second along the way was one of great enjoyment. As his provocation increased, he covered her cheeks and throat with soft, small kisses, only to claim her mouth again just as her skin was flushing pink, at the height of her passion. His lips stifled her cry of ecstasy, as she writhed against his hand. Thranduil continued to kiss her softly as she subsided, humming softly.

"Thank you," she whispered, when she could form a coherent thought beyond, _did she want to know how he could do that?_ He carefully withdrew his hand.

"Now you will have something pleasant on which to reflect, while preparing dinner," he smiled, kissing her on the forehead, "and Thanadir will be unaware of any unseemliness."

This caused her to erupt in giggles. If he had wished to further lighten her mood, he had succeeded wildly.

As she removed the grocery items, he asked, "Tell me of your new friends, Earlene."

"I met Lorna, and Mick, my Lord. They work as mechanics, in the village. We did not really talk much, aside from introductions. Lorna is from perhaps an hour away, and said she lived once in Dublin. Mick I think is a native of the village? I know little about her, but...I like her. Her speech is coarse, but I find her to be...caring. I sense perhaps her life was not an easy one." Earlene paused. "It is hard to make new friends, Thranduil, especially women friends. I invited her to visit here sometime, if she wishes. She asked about you, a little. Or rather, she asked if I was involved with anyone." Earlene smiled, remembering her enjoyment of the conversation. "She said she would bring some home-brewed beer, and share some with you as well."

Thranduil's eyebrows raised. "Then I shall look forward to meeting her."

After the meat pie went into the oven and she began working on the salad and roast vegetables, Earlene spoke again. "My Lord, may I discuss something with you?"

The King rose up from the history book, and approached her. Thanadir did not so much as raise his head.

"Yes, meluieg?"

"I have been thinking about the purchasing of food, my Lord. When I spoke with the storekeeper today, I gained an...impression...that her inquiries are not going as quickly as they might. It is my instinct that the reason is, the woman has little motivation to make an effort because she perceives that no reward is in it for her." Earlene looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction.

Thranduil looked at her searchingly. "And it is your deduction that were she to 'perceive a reward,' as you say, that far more cooperation would be forthcoming?"

"Yes, my King. And to be perfectly fair, few humans are moved to act on behalf of another only out of altruism. More than that, I had a thought. If you were to expand your list of desired items to not only...cabbage, but to additional vegetables with excellent storage properties such as beets, carrots, turnips, parsnips and perhaps even kale and collards, you would create yet more incentive because you would be placing a larger order. If you could arrive at a percentage of payment with which you feel comfortable parting, I could propose it to Aislinn. It is my understanding from the research I did, that the average profit margin for a grocer is between one and three percent. Large orders would mean minimum work for her, with maximum profit, simply for conducting the transaction as a resale."

Thranduil considered her words, but sensed there was more. "What else is there, Earlene?" he asked softly.

She looked down. "I wondered if you had considered livestock, my Lord. The number of people you spoke of to me...have you thought of what some dozens of chickens, and two or three dairy cows could bring to your Halls? It is true that one or two people would need to make nearly a full time job of the milking and processing, and care of the animal, but, it is a rewarding thing to have as a food. Three dairy cows, depending on breed, could supply you with a half to whole gallon per person per week, for two hundred people. If fresh milk consumption is less, the surplus can be made into butter, cheese, yogurt, sour cream and more. There is a barn here already, and with some investment and preparations on my part, it would be a pleasing thing to have...but I could not do this alone without great difficulty. Milk cows are nearly a full time job, on their own.

The reason I ask is, it takes time to prepare to have such animals; they require infrastructure. A place to be milked and equipment to store and process the milk are a minimum necessity. Though, I cannot help but wonder how interesting it would be, with your ability to prevent foods from spoiling. It makes me realize, I am not sure why I am keeping the refrigerator. There is also the consideration that access to fresh milk may be desirable to some of the villagers; some may be willing to buy or barter for it...if there is anything from the outside world that you need or want." Raising her eyes back to his after this monologue, she concluded, " At any rate, thank you for hearing me."

He digested this for a moment. "These suggestions have merit, though I would like to understand in greater detail exactly what is involved. There are some in my Halls who worked long ago with these kinds of animals; all elves have a way with beasts. If I am understanding you clearly, you are trying to politely say that while you believe this would be a good idea, it is outside of the scope of what you would have chosen for yourself. And therefore, you would want a certain number of the elves to take on much, if not all, of the work?"

Earlene frowned. "As a vague place to begin a complex discussion, yes, something like that. I was no dairy farmer, but I do understand the basic work involved. I don't know if you've seen in me, that I spent summers on my grandparents' farm. There was a cow, and I helped with all the work, care of the animal, and making what needed to be made from the milk. If you are interested, I would certainly not oppose your wishes as to how the work is to be done. Had you not been here, I likely would have sought out a goat or two for myself, for the same purpose. But cow's milk can make far nicer products, and you have a population that could make use of it. And," she lowered her eyes, "I am aware that I am committed to serve you. I do not presume to have others work, without working myself."

Breaking away from this topic, she had finished preparing the vegetables. Those found their way onto a baking sheet, and joined the pie in the oven. Frowning, she thought about how nice tapioca pudding would be for dessert.

Thranduil laughed, embracing her. Kissing her on the forehead, he said, "Meluieg, when the kitchens in the Halls are once again running, you will have spoiled Thanadir so badly that he will not wish to take his meals there." She smiled up at him, flattered by his praise. "And you, my King? Have I spoiled you as well?" Her eyes now had a mischievous twinkle, but quickly widened in surprise as he kissed her passionately on the mouth, holding her for some time before releasing her. Unable to stop herself from glancing over at Thanadir, who remained seemingly oblivious, she cleared her throat as she felt her cheeks flush. "I will take that as a Yes, my King."

"Good, meluieg. You may make your pudding now. But after the food is ready, you are to do no further work tonight." She started to form a thought of protest, but then decided against it.

"Yes, my Lord." His hand caressed her cheek, and then he returned to his book.

At dinner, she continued to enjoy stealing glances at Thanadir as he ate his food. It had become something of a hobby, for her. He truly did seem to be appreciating the food. The more she watched him, the more she learned to notice the most subtle of facial expressions from him. They would have been so easy to miss...a slight flicker of the eyebrows, or the barest curling of the corners of his mouth. And though she could almost always avoid him catching her at watching him, the sparkle in his eyes when he did manage it spoke volumes. Then again, it was her guess that it had less to do with the quality of Thranduil's cooks, than who knows how many centuries of not having tasted food. She really could not imagine...there were some pleasures that belonged to being alive, and for most of those fortunate enough to have regular access to food, eating was one of them.

After the meal, since she was not allowed to clean up, she decided to brush her teeth and take a bath. If for no other reason, that it seemed like the thing to do. She ran the shower first, quickly washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. Taking a look at her legs, she decided it was also time to indulge herself with the razor. When all the maintenance work was done, she set the drain plug in, checked once more that the curtain was as it should be, and laid down in the tub, letting the hot water rain over her as the tub filled. It had been worth every penny, to pay for the retrofits on this home, including an on-demand hot water heater capable of making moments like this possible. She sighed with enjoyment, and closed her eyes. It had been a nice day...a _stable_ day. To have even one, in the midst of a struggle, was a blessing that she did not take for granted.

Bending her head forward, she tried to knead at the muscles of her neck and shoulders, that felt a little stiff, but the necklace made it feel awkward to try. The tub was full, so perhaps she could sink lower down into the hot water instead. Leaning forward to turn the taps off, she also moved the curtain out of the way so that she did not feel so closed in. She tried to sink down in the water but found that this put too much pressure against the necklace, driving it into her skin. Sighing, she sat back up straighter again and resumed trying to knead at her shoulders. His hand on her arm startled her. Shaking her head, she smiled. "My Lord, I am growing used to your silent movements, but are you now silently passing through walls as well? I did not hear you come in."

He made an amused humming sound. "You will have to wonder, Earlene." She felt his hands at the back of her neck. To her great surprise, he unclasped the necklace. She felt something inside of her lurch. Whereas she at first had not wanted to be required to wear it always, there was now a twinge of fear that it was being removed. He leaned down to kiss her. "I will replace it on you soon, meluieg. I only wished to do for you what you cannot do for yourself." His hands closed over her shoulders, as he began massaging them for her. With a moan of appreciation she leaned into his hands. He rubbed and caressed her muscles until the water had gone from hot to barely warm, at which point he insisted she leave the tub. Wrapping her in a towel, he lifted her out and dried her. She could not fathom, to what she owed this treatment.

"Thank you, my Lord, for your many kindnesses to me. I am very grateful."

"You are welcome, Earlene," he said, with great tenderness in his voice. He kissed her, and then encircled her neck once again with the jewels, securing the clasp. She leaned into him, relaxed and sleepy. He placed her in bed, and returned shortly. It brought him joy, how quickly she reached out for him. As she caressed him in affection, she encountered his desire, and immediately sought to care for him. Though she was but half awake, she disappeared under the covers to offer him pleasure, later on tugging at him to come to her, as she offered her body. Soon enough she was satisfied and asleep in his arms.

Unfortunately, the peace of the day did not last into her dreams. Over and over, the towers crumbled into vast clouds of dust that blanketed the streets beneath her feet, until finally rising to consume her view in a fog of gray. And each time, the memory of her friends' voices tore pieces from her heart.


	13. Chapter 13

Earlene woke up that morning, not wishing to have to leave the safety of Thranduil's arms. Except, she both had to use the toilet, and wanted to pass within striking distance of the prescription bottle that held relief for the crushing feelings in her chest. She did not know how he was not awake yet, but apparently he wasn't. Slipping out from his embrace carefully, she attended to both needs in rapid succession. Based on how she felt, she took a half tablet. Her memories of last night were bad ones, and she did not want her misery to become apparent to him. All she needed was about twenty more minutes back in bed, and the medicine would take effect. Crawling back in, she wriggled carefully into his arms and held them around her, willing herself to think about something else:

 _In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea._

When Thranduil finally began to stir against her, she released his arms. Things inside of her were as under control as they were going to be, and it was time to get up and prepare food. She thought breakfast sandwiches sounded nice, with fruit. Turning to him, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek and rose. Days were going by, and she still had no idea how to try and talk to him. Even she recognized that things weren't getting better as quickly as she'd hoped. Hoped, even though she knew better than to think that she could pull out of it this soon; she'd been on the receiving end of as much professional help as the next person, and there was an unavoidable pattern to a setback. But he had not raised the subject again, and her gratitude for this ran deep. She did not understand why, but he had been so immeasurably kind to her since...their incident. It had been such a shame, for that to have happened but...just bad luck, was all.

Pulling on a black tunic and leggings, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The necklace looked a little less odd, with the single dark color, she thought, running her hand over it. Smiling, she looked at Thranduil in gratitude, even as he seemed to have fallen back to sleep. His face was so very beautiful. However oddly this had begun, she was feeling happier to be with him, all the time. Maybe one day, here in Ireland, her demons would be finally banished. One day.

In the kitchen, she began making the biscuit dough and cooking the eggs, with the kettle on for tea. Scones sounded good as well; she had found a box of sultanas at the store and had some oranges too. _Why not_ , she thought. Soon enough she was whirling around in a pleasant numbness, creating food. Which was perhaps why she managed to wheel around at one point, and crash smack into Thranduil. She stumbled, but he quickly caught her. Embarrassed, she stammered an apology. "I am sorry, my Lord, I did not hear you. I did not mean to be so clumsy."

He chuckled, righting her. "Do not be sorry, Earlene, it was an accident." He frowned. "Are you certain you feel well? Your equilibrium is not quite right."

She smiled. "I am as well as ever, my Lord." Earlene was not a lawyer for nothing; it was an elegant evasion that stopped fractionally short of being untruthful.

As she washed up after the meal, she'd had the satisfaction of learning that both of the ellyn liked scones a great deal. Though they had done damage to the baking sheet of them, a few still remained. It made her very happy, to see others enjoy her food. Wiping her hands on a towel, she went to the computer. What did not make her happy was the next stack of emails. With a growl of frustration she went and put on her clogs and a sweater, and marched out of the house to the woods. She wanted a few moments to think. Her firm was pushing her generosity too far. Stopping a little distance in, she leaned up against a tree and tried to sort her thoughts.

"Earlene," she heard, just before his hand touched her shoulder. "What is the matter?" Looking up into his brilliant eyes, she sighed. "I have a problem with my former employers, my Lord, and I do not know quite what to do. I told you of the agreement I had with my law firm, to be available for consultation after I moved here. It seems that my definition, and their definition, of the word "consultation" are not matching very well. They are making demands on my time in excess of what I had envisioned, and I have to find a way to stop this. Yet these are people I regard, and I do not wish to create offense nor damage my reputation. It is...delicate, to consider."

Thranduil regarded her for a minute, drawing her into his arms, and rubbing her back. She was not certain that this was helping her think, but his soothing felt very nice, on so many levels. "I believe I can make this easy for you, Earlene. You simply must write them and say that you have taken on new obligations elsewhere, effective immediately. Because of your new duties, you can only offer them an amount of hours that fits your original vision, and that they need to modify their correspondence accordingly. Should they exceed that availability, you will use your discretion as to which cases you respond. Done. No further discussion."

Earlene blinked. _What was wrong with her, that she couldn't have thought of that?_ She squeezed her eyes shut, and held onto him.

"I will do as you say, my Lord. It is an excellent solution."

Thranduil sighed as he held her. There was more; he knew there was more. But that she had confided in him about at least something...it was a beginning.

They returned, and soon she was back at her keyboard with a much greater sense of self-assurance. Thranduil smiled as he watched her fingers fly.

Lorna, having given the mechanic an overhaul with a mop and copious amounts of window cleaner the night before, decided she'd head out to Earlene's midmorning. It was a clear, sunny morning, the sky as blue as ever it was at home, and she drew deep breaths of the fresh air as she trekked out past the edge of the village. Like any good guest, she'd brought six dark brown bottles of the home brew she'd brought with her from Baile - she wasn't certain how well an American would like such a heavy beer, but Earlene seemed to have enjoyed her Guinness, so it was probably safe enough. What nobody outside of Baile knew was that, beer though it was, it was also sixty proof.

After only a half hour at her legal work, a very firm knock was heard at the front door. All three of them looked up from their pursuits. "Perhaps the computers have arrived?" Earlene said, rising to answer the door. Pulling it open, she was stunned.

"Lorna! Come in, I'm so glad to see you!" Stepping back and gesturing inside, she had genuinely forgotten about her invitation. Or perhaps half more likely, somehow thought it would be at a later time in the day. It didn't matter. "Can I get you tea?"

"I'd love some, if you've got the time," Lorna said, stepping inside. "I didn't realize you've got company. I can come back later, if it's more convenient." Her eyes searched Earlene's face. The curse of being a bartender for so long was that it gave one an ability to read people, whether you - or they - wanted you to or not. For whatever reason, Earlene was tense, worn. And then Lorna went down the short hallway, and saw her company, and thought she might understand why.

The most obvious, the one who pretty much commanded attention, was possibly the creepiest person she'd ever seen in her entire bloody life. Even seated, he had to be incredibly tall, and his eyes...well, they looked a bit like zombie eyes, to be honest. Combine that with Barbie-blond hair and such pale skin...where had Earlene found him? (Possibly dug him up, given how pale he was?)

The problem - well, the most pressing one - was that Lorna hadn't survived as long as she had by not recognizing a threat when she saw one, and this man, whoever he actually was, was possibly the most threatening individual she'd ever encountered, in prison or out of it. It had been a long time since she'd been around anyone more dangerous than she was, and she didn't like it at all - and liked even less the fact that he was around Earlene, who surely couldn't understand just what she'd brought into her home. She didn't believe for a moment that he wasn't human (though looking at him, she could understand why a person might), but she was convinced she was looking at someone who, if he hadn't killed anyone already, easily could.

Not that she had any room to judge, on that score.

Her grandmother and sister had, over the last eleven years, managed to bludgeon basic manners into her, so what she actually said was, "Hi. I've brought beer, if anyone wants some later."

Earlene smiled and said, "I won't object, but perhaps you'd still like to start with tea? I can offer you some scones I just made...I thought they might clash with the beer, but, I won't judge. And please let me introduce you, this is Thranduil, and Thanadir. And they aren't company, they are more or less my family."

Earlene noticed that Lorna seemed a bit tense about seeing the ellyn but...this was an Irish village, and therefore it was not possible that Lorna had not been told. Still, she did not wish for her guest to feel uncomfortable.

Thranduil and Thanadir both rose. Thanadir said carefully, "I am pleased to meet you, Lorna," and bowed his head to her. Thranduil came forward and stopped a safe distance from Lorna. He was not certain he had ever encountered a human like this before; he could see in her thoughts that he was already at a disadvantage with the diminutive woman. While he was fascinated that she was assessing him only in terms of being a physical threat to her, it did not help him address his desire not to interfere with Earlene's wish to befriend her. Nor did he want this encounter to go badly, based on his desire to reach out to the villagers. As if she were a wild animal, he did not approach her closely.

Earlene's eyebrows raised, as she heard Thranduil speaking in one of his softest and kindest voices, with a warm smile. "I am pleased to meet you as well, Lorna. Thanadir is learning your language, and can only understand some of our conversation. Earlene has spoken of you, and I am glad to see you here. And I too would like some of your beer. I am afraid Thanadir cannot stay; he has to be somewhere else very soon."

Earlene decided the most sensible thing was to put the kettle back on the stove while the introductions sorted themselves out.

Lorna had to admit, the bow startled the hell out of her, but she hesitated too long to make trying to return it anything but awkward. "Grand to meet you both," she said, looking up (and up; Christ, she hated being this short) at this Thranduil. She forced herself to relax; dangerous he might be, but that didn't mean he was going to haul off and skin her. Technically, she was dangerous, but she didn't go around murdering people just for unsettling her. _Reserve judgment_ , she ordered herself. She'd seen Earlene's necklace - no, there was no way the thing was any kind of protection, but it had to be bloody expensive. He had good taste, at least, and evidently the kind of cash that could comfortably support someone, if Earlene ever decided she actually wanted supporting. She didn't seem the sort who'd want to be entirely without intellectually stimulating work - which gardening, while soothing, definitely was not. Those eyes, though...if they were contacts, they were the most incredibly realistic ones she had ever seen, but she didn't think they were.

 _It's not his fault he looks like a zombie_ , she told herself. God, she was bad at this; she'd spent too much of her life running off impulse and impression, and acting like a reasonable adult was still sometimes a bit of a workout. "Earlene says you've been a grand help to her, living out here."*

Thranduil smiled. "I am fairly certain it is the other way around, but it is kind of her to say so. I have helped where I could. I hope you ladies will excuse us for a moment; I need to speak with Thanadir before he departs. I will be back soon, to enjoy your company."

Thranduil turned to Thanadir and spoke softly before walking out the back door. "Tolo, i sadron nîn."(Come, my faithful one)

"Athon, i Aran nîn," replied Thanadir. Before following him, Thanadir turned to Lorna and spoke carefully. "I enjoyed meeting you, Lorna. Goodbye."

Earlene and Lorna watched as the two ellyn walked off toward the barn.

"Would you rather sit at the counter or on the couch, Lorna? And did you want a scone?"

"Couch, if you don't mind," Lorna said, and gave her a wry grin. "My feet don't dangle so far off the floor on a couch. And I'd love a scone, if it's not too much trouble." She hefted her rucksack off her back. "Also, beer - I'll stow this by the stove for now, keep it out'v the way." That language those two had been speaking - it sounded a hell of a lot like Welsh, but it definitely wasn't Welsh. She'd ask later, once she figured out how to phrase the question so it wouldn't sound like an interrogation.

She eyed the photograph above the couch. Earlene said she'd worked in New York - had she been anywhere near the Twin Towers that day? Even Lorna had more tact than to actually ask that question, but sure God wouldn't that have been a terrible thing to go through. She'd been serving her last year in prison when it happened, and the entire lot of them, prisoners and guards alike, had watched the news in complete silence. It hadn't seemed real - she'd thought, more than once, that it felt like some action movie had been brought horribly into the real world.

"I don't blame you. Sometimes I think those stools are going to be the death of my posture. I spend too much computer time sitting on them, but that's going to stop soon."

"You need a proper armchair," Lorna said, still eying the picture. "Christ, that was a hell'v a thing, that day." The words were out of her mouth before she could think to take them back, and she winced. Would she ever stop stuffing her foot down her throat? Mairead certainly didn't think so, and at this rate, she might well be right.

Earlene looked at Lorna. She never minded the comments that showed some kind of acknowledgement. "It was. You don't need to be worried, talking about it. I'd kind of wonder about you, if you didn't. I don't bring it up right away because….there is no easy way to talk to a total stranger about the thing that ran your life clean off the rails. Unless someone has lived in a cave, anyone who hears that someone worked or lived in Manhattan and can't register it….yeah."

"My gran was forever thumping me, telling me I had no tact," Lorna said, with a wry smile, but the smile faded almost as soon as it arrived. "Were you - were you close by, that day?" She wasn't actually sure just how big Manhattan actually was, but she had a hazy idea that most of it wound up dealing with the fallout. "I grew up during the Troubles, all the bombings and shootings between us and the North. I thought I knew what terrorism was, until 9/11 happened. Then I realized I'd had no idea at all."

Earlene looked at Lorna. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like if she didn't start talking about this soon, she would have no chance of shaking her latest relapse. She was just about to speak when the kettle screamed bloody murder. With a laugh, Earlene said, "I'll show you, but let me make the tea happy first." Rising, she hurried to shut the thing off and filled their mugs. It just so happened that the rest of that blue pill was in her pocket, and she helped herself to it, reasoning that she was probably going to need it for this.

Returning to Lorna with two steaming mugs and a plate of scones with butter, she sat down. The same book about NYC that she'd used to try to explain to Thranduil was still on the coffee table, and she opened it to the large aerial photo of Lower Manhattan.

"You can see where the towers were, this is an older photo," Earlene explained. I worked here, on Madison Street, just a few blocks from the courthouse. So...I basically watched the whole thing out of my office window, from a little over half a mile away." Her voice had grown very soft, by the end of the sentence. "Look, I don't want to be a drama queen, but it's going to come out anyway, especially if we are going to be friends, so I may as well just tell you. Every friend I had in the world worked in the Towers. None of them made it. I got through and kept my life on track, but not without consequences. I've dealt with PTSD ever since then..though I had to hide it from everyone. You don't do what I did for a career, and let on that anything went wrong inside of you, ever. There were bad ups and downs at first, but eventually, everything was fine for a long time. Until just recently, anyway, and...I'm back to trying to climb out of my hole again. Some days are better than others. And, I'm truly sorry at the level of completely personal TMI stuff you probably don't want to know about, that I'm tossing out at you. I've never learned how to say only a little, or even what to say."

Lorna stared at her, wide-eyed. "Jesus bloody Christ...Earlene, allanah, it's not TMI. With something like that, when you've endured something that bloody horrible, you say and do whatever you need to. That's...I wish I had any way with words at all," she said, frustrated. "I know you don't really know me well, but I've been a bartender for eleven years - mechanics is a side-job. I know how to listen. And I know what it's like to lose...people close to you. If you need to talk about it, for Christ's sake, do it. Someone a hell'v a lot smarter than I am once told me that talking about shite like that's the only way to deal with it, insofar as that's possible. What happened, that brought it back?" Triggers could, she knew, be sometimes the most random of things. The smell of gasoline, certainly, for her, and rain on pavement.

Earlene sighed. "You don't know how much I appreciate just hearing that. What started it was, I hung that picture up some days back, and Thranduil asked what it was. Thranduil didn't know about 9/11, or me. He said something that I realized later was completely innocent, but it pulled the ground out from under my feet and tore open everything that had more or less settled into place and stayed put for a long time. I explained it to him later as best I could, but I'm still not sure he understands. He's tried so hard to support me. I'm not an idiot, I know he sees something is wrong and...have you ever been in a situation where you've found someone who makes you truly happy, and you're just not ready yet to tell them how broken you really are? I'm kind of in that mess right now. It hasn't been the first time something set me back. I just didn't expect it to happen to me here."

 _Who the hell hasn't heard of 9/11?_ Lorna wondered. Was there some cult in the woods, that just never left its borders? That wasn't the important thing, but it was certainly weird. "I…" What the hell could she say to that, that would actually be of any use? "I have, even if the situation was bloody different, but if he's worth a damn, he won't care. Christ, the perceptive ones figure it out before you need to tell them." Liam had certainly known just how screwed-up she was, long before she said anything. "I know it's hard, sometimes, actually letting people know what's really going on with you, but if it's someone who's meant to matter to you, just dump it on him, all at once. If he can handle it, he's golden; if he can't, kick him to the curb. My sister always said never commit to anyone until you've both seen one another at your absolute worst, and have managed not to kill each other or anyone else." Lorna was fairly certain the only reason Mairead wasn't the one who'd gone down for manslaughter was lack of opportunity. "I don't have much experience with men myself - I was only married two years, in my twenties - but the good ones...you know you're loved, with the good ones. I'm not much'v anything, and never have been, but Liam, he made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. It took us a while to get there, but if that giant blond ( _zombie,_ she thought _)_ bloke is worth it, he will, too, sooner or later."

Earlene's eyes grew wider, hearing this, and she sighed. Maybe partly from the Xanax, but mostly on account of the common sense in it. "It isn't him, Lorna, it's me. He's got plenty of intuition, but all his time living here hasn't exactly left him knowledgeable about modern psychology. His kind don't have these sorts of problems. And, he would care. He'd help me. He wants to. I'm the idiot who doesn't feel like I can admit to all this. I don't know if you can understand but, I've been on my own my whole life. I worked around mostly men. Men who oozed prestige and power. It is practically at the core of my being to never show weakness, or emotion, or...anything. When a woman works in that world...you have to be like some sort of steel box; nothing gets in or out. And I was good at it, and I somehow held up all that time. Now that I'm living another life, it just isn't easy to suddenly behave differently. Which doesn't change that everything you just said is obviously true..." she trailed off, glad she could feel very little. Because if she could feel something, it would be found in that finite space between Guilt and Worthlessness.

"It's not idiocy if it's something you've done all your adult life," Lorna pointed out. "Habit's a hard thing to break, especially when it's really ingrained." _Just what in flipping hell was 'his kind' supposed to mean? Was there actually a cult?_ She seriously needed to do some Googling about this village. "You and I have had...very different lives, but I understand needing to keep everything on the inside in the inside, if you get my meaning. It's not always safe for a woman to let on, and it does turn into habit. You've not been here long at all; it's not surprising you can't open up yet."

Earlene thought, as she watched Lorna nibble on the scone. "True. But in a way, talking about this has been a relief." She chuckled. "Thranduil already knows; he would have heard."

A sonorous voice from the door said, "Yes, he would have."

Earlene looked up and smiled, from behind a pleasantly detached face. She saw, with relief, that his eyes held no anger or reproach. "Would you like tea, Thranduil?"

"No, thank you, meluieg. But I will admit to curiosity concerning Lorna's beer."

Jesus Christ, for such a tall guy, he could move quieter than a ghost. Lorna didn't inhale her scone, but it was a near thing. Meluieg...that sounded so, so Welsh, and yet it wasn't. "Jamie, my boss and I, we made this batch," she said, setting aside both cup and scone and fetching her rucksack. "It's got a bit more'v kick to it than most beers. I thought I'd introduce Earlene to poitín, but figured I'd best wait. In my gran's day, it sometimes sent people blind." She lined up the six bottles on the edge of the table. "If you've got a bottle-opener, Earlene, I'll crack the top off one or two."

Earlene immediately rose to go fetch the requested item, affectionately squeezing Thranduil's arm as she passed him. She handed it to Lorna, looking at the bottles and wondering if she should be worried.

"If you two can handle this, I'll bring some poitín next time I'm out this way," Lorna said, cracking the tops off three of the bottles. Beer was always better when shared. "The ninety-proof kind's the best, but it's bloody easy to drink yourself into doing something utterly stupid." Like, oh, say, 'kill your father', though that had hardly been the only thing she'd been on that summer night. "She doesn't drive, and I'm assuming you don't, either, so no worries there."

Earlene sighed again for the umpeenth time, as she reached for her bottle. But then again, she did that a lot, on the medication. It wasn't like being drunk, but it created in her the same desire to take deep breaths with some frequency, if she had enough in her. Which was not rocket science; she knew it suppressed the respiratory drive. Thranduil sat next to Earlene, and a flicker of a frown crossed his face. He felt the same sense of imbalance in her as this morning, only now it was stronger.

Earlene raised her bottle. "To new friends," she said cheerfully, clinking bottles with Lorna. Thranduil clinked his to theirs, echoing the words along with Lorna.

Feeling a bit determined to keep up, she knew that one beer was not an issue with her medication; she'd done that quite a few times. But she never pushed further; it wasn't safe. Earlene asked Lorna how she had gone about the brewing process, which caused a cascade of happy chatter from her friend. Earlene was delighted to have found something that she obviously truly enjoyed talking about, and listened to her. Though, keeping up with Lorna also meant that the bottle was drained very quickly. She felt quite content. Thranduil had started asking Lorna more detailed questions about the ingredients they'd used, and Earlene listened to that as well.

In a short time, though, she realized she was having difficulty not only listening, but that staying awake was becoming a monumental challenge. It was becoming cold in the room, and everything felt so incredibly slowed down. The last thing she truly recalled was Thranduil catching her, as her eyes went dark.

Thranduil shook her gently. "Earlene?"

Lorna turned, and her heart stuttered in her chest. Clammy, pallid, and, when she rested the back of her hand on Earlene's forehead, chilly. She looked up at Thranduil, even as she felt for Earlene's pulse. "Is she taking anything? Is she on any antidepressants or the like?" Earlene didn't seem at all the type to take narcotics, but even prescription medications could have a bad reaction with alcohol this strong.

Thranduil frowned, not knowing what any of those things even were...but he could see in the mind of this woman that they were substances that would be taken into the body. His frown deepened, reflecting on what he'd felt in Earlene recently. He had to take a certain risk, here. Even with his skills, he needed to have some idea of what was happening, and what he perceived within her was outside of any of his previous experience.

"Lorna," he said softly. "Though it may be hard for you to hear, you must realize that I have not lived among your kind. I can help Earlene, but I must be able to first understand what is harming her. For this, I need you. I am aware that something has affected Earlene's body and mood, these past days. There are times she is completely calm, feeling nothing. Sometimes there is almost dizziness. Is there anything you could tell me, from this?"

Lorna didn't at all have time to spare for the whole 'not living among her kind' nonsense. What mattered was his concern, and his confusion.

"It sounds like an antidepressant, or something like one," she said. "Here, lay her on her side - if she sicks up, it's a good thing, but she needs to not choke on it. I need to know what exactly she's on." The EMT's would definitely want to know, if she could actually provide that information. Christ, why had she not asked if Earlene was taking anything - or, at the very least, warned her of its alcohol content? It was criminal bloody stupidity on her part.

Hoping Earlene would forgive her for making a mess in the bathroom, she dug through the moving box of personal supplies mostly unpacked on the floor. It was not hard to spot the medium sized prescription bottle. Xanax - there were much worse things to combine with alcohol, though this still wasn't good.

"It's Xanax," she said, emerging into the lounge, bottle in hand. "Could be worse, but that's not saying much. Keep a hand on her, make sure she keeps breathing while I ring for the ambulance. Earlene, allanah, I don't know if you can hear me, but we're getting you help, all right?" This was far from the first time she'd seen this happen to someone. It wasn't pretty, but if you could get help in time, it didn't have to do any real damage.

"Lorna." Thranduil spoke softly, but with command in his voice. "There is no need to call for help. What is needed is for you to explain to me what exactly this Xanax does. What does it do, to the person who consumes it?"

Why she answered, rather than running for the phone, she never did know. "It's an antidepressant and anti-anxiety medicine," she said, feeling Earlene's clammy forehead. "It alters the brain chemistry, makes it so you don't care about much'v anything. I was on it myself, briefly, but she's on enough'v a dose that I'm amazed she's not sitting on the couch staring at nothing all day. I should've bloody told her how much alcohol's in that beer. A normal beer wouldn't've hurt her, so it's no wonder she drank, but this shite's sixty proof. Basically, I've just poisoned her," she said wretchedly.

Thranduil laid a hand on Lorna's arm very softly. "Lorna, thank you. If anyone is to blame for this, it is me. None of this would have happened, had it not been for my ignorance. If anything, you have helped to save her, in more ways than one. I must ask you now to allow me some moments of concentration." He regarded the tiny woman further. "What you see if you choose to remain in the room will startle you, Lorna; it is outside your experience. If you would prefer, step outside and return in five minutes."

The touch startled the living hell out of her, as surprise touches were wont to do, but she'd lived among civilized people long enough that casual contact no longer totally freaked her out - and it was enough to break her cycle of self-recrimination, for now. At least he seemed aware that he'd contributed to her Xanax use, if in fact he had - Lorna really didn't know shite about the whole situation. "You're sure?" she asked, though she knew there was no way anyone could be sure Earlene would be okay right now. Again, accidental poisoning, even if it did wind up doing some good in the end.

The smart thing to do would be to go for the phone, while he did whatever it was he planned to do. Why she didn't was another thing she never did understand; yes, she was curious, but this was not a scenario in which curiosity had any real place. Maybe it was just instinct that made her step back, leaning against the wall, watching.

Thranduil saw that Lorna was electing to remain in the room, and gave a single nod of his head. He pulled Earlene into his lap, cradling her with his arm. His right arm that supported her wrapped around her head, with his hand resting on her forehead. His left hand was laid over her middle, just under her ribs. Closing his eyes, his forehead furrowed in concentration as his already pale skin took on an even more ethereal appearance. And then, he began to glow with light. At first this was a soft radiance, but as the next half minute wore on, it rose to a brilliance that cast shadows on his surroundings before disappearing entirely.

"Earlene" he whispered, "It is time to wake."

Stirring in his arms, she felt lingering confusion. "i Aran nîn?" she asked, befuddled, and struggling to sit up.

 _You were taken ill, meluieg. Lorna's drink was too strong for the medicine in your body, but you are well now. Your friend is very concerned, and blames herself for what happened. Earlene, you must realize that though she was told about me, she did not believe...until now, unless I am much mistaken._

Earlene looked at him, now feeling very badly.

 _No meluieg, this was not your fault. We will speak in private later. Be at ease._

"Tá tú focáil magadh mé."

Lorna had always been one to believe the evidence of her own eyes, and nothing more. The life she'd led didn't leave much room for speculation of the supernatural, be it religious, superstitious, or mythical. She simply was not prepared for what she'd seen, and most of her absolutely did not want to believe what she'd seen, but there wasn't exactly any getting around it. It had been many years since she'd done the sort of drugs that could cause such a hallucination.

Forever after, she had to comfort herself with the fact that people in shock often said utterly stupid things, because the first words out of her mouth were, "All right, you're a goddamn Elf. Is that why your eyebrows don't match your hair?" She wanted to check on Earlene herself, but shit, no wonder she'd pegged him as a threat as soon as she'd met him. No, he wasn't about to attack her or anything, but lifelong habit gave her pause. When confronted with someone in fact more dangerous than oneself, caution was only intelligent, no matter how benign they were. Earlene looked on her way to being so thoroughly recovered that it was as spooky as it was miraculous.

Thranduil looked up at Lorna in surprise, contemplating that in all his very long life, no one had ever spoken to him in quite that manner. With a patient sigh, he smiled. If there was any finer example that much would be required of him in order to form a connection with the villagers, it would genuinely be a matter for incredulity. His voice was level and patient as he replied, with the faintest smile playing across his features. "I am sorry, Lorna, for the intrusion on your sensibilities, but I cannot help what I am. And, my coloration is no different than that of my own father, or my son, and has little to do with being an elf. Many of the Sindar, the gray elves, appeared thus."

Lorna let out a long breath. "Of course you can't," she said, leaning against the wall. "Sorry. It's just...shite. The villagers said you were an Elf, but I didn't believe them, because - well, I grew up in a city. Nobody believes in Elves, or ghosts, or anything...supernatural, I guess. If we can't see it, most'v us, we'll not buy it, but if we do…" She honestly had no idea what to do with this information. It went against everything she'd ever known, and ever believed, in her entire life. "I mean…" She thought about what would happen, if the outside world found out about him - about all the Elves, however many there actually were. "I'll give you a piece'v advice, though I don't know that you'll need it: don't let anyone outside the village know you're here. It's a paranoid world we live in - there's some would welcome you, but plenty'v others'd fear you, and...you don't want that. You don't want what would happen." She was too astute a student of human nature to believe it would end anything but utterly horribly.

She took a few steps forward, eying Earlene. Part of her wanted to ask how Thranduil had even done that, but she had a feeling the answer would be 'magic', and she just couldn't handle that right now. Not on top of what had already been dropped on her. "She's going to be okay?" It was only half a question.

"I'm fine, now, Lorna," Earlene replied. "And I'm so incredibly sorry this happened. I didn't put it together, at all, that your brew might be on the strong side. City people aren't used to things being too different than a certain narrow range," she said ruefully, sitting up straighter. Though, she still leaned against Thranduil.

 _Thranduil, is it safe for me to have more of what she brought? I don't want her to leave feeling like...I know she must feel right now._

 _Yes, meluieg. The medicine is gone from your body._

"Lorna, I wonder if I can prevail on you to open just one more bottle. I really did like it and...I sort of feel like I missed out on round one."

"I too would like more," Thranduil chimed in. "Perhaps Earlene and I could share the bottle? I give you my respect, Lorna, your brew is strong indeed for a human to tolerate."

"That you're from the city's why I should've warned you," Lorna said, popping the cap off another bottle with more than a little reservation. "I doubt they've got beer this strong in the States. You'd no way'v knowing it might do that to you." God knew she needed another herself, after that, though she'd take her time with this one. "Good to know I've done a decent job'v it, at least." She set one bottle on the coffee table, where they could both reach it.

Thranduil had waited, to continue. "No one outside the village will know, Lorna, unless someone is determined to betray us. And even then, we are not without defenses. My people have remained hidden except for what rumor and legend have led others to believe, for a very long time. If we needed to, we could remain hidden again. There is a wisdom among those who live here in the village, that allowed them to perceive us. We were shown respect and we gave respect in return, in our own way. And yet, the world has changed around us, more than I could have imagined. I believe it is time for us to become a little less reclusive, if it would be welcomed. I can assure you that neither I, nor any of my kind, bear any ill will or mean any harm to those around us. While we will defend what is ours, it is our purpose and our preference is to remain in what is left of our woods. All elves love at heart the forests, and the green places of the world."

Lorna paused, sipping her beer, the alcohol very welcome. "Nobody'd believe anyone who blabbed about you," she said to Thranduil. "I'm not the only one who'd think any stories'v you were just...well, stories. Christ, even if someone took a picture'v you, it'd just get written off as a fake. My gran, people her age, they might, but they'd get written off, too. Unless you actually went out walking in the rest'v the world, you're safe." God knew she'd done it with Gran; she'd played along, because Gran was Gran, and wouldn't change her mind on a damn thing until the day she died.

Earlene's thoughts returned to her beverage. "Beer in the states, if you go in for craft beers, can be as strong as 8% or 9% but...that is really rare. Typical is around 5%. And, I'll be honest. I like beer, but I like wine a lot more. And spirits, depending." She laughed. "I guess I'll try anything once. But back home, the big thing was to see how many hop plants could be stuffed into the brew mash and still have it be able to be called beer. I've nothing against hops but...it got ridiculous, to me. So I didn't necessarily try anything that advertised itself by way of labels like Hop Madness, Hoppity Hop, Hop My Way Home, or the like. If you get my meaning."

Eight or nine percent...Christ. No wonder she'd got sick. "This stuff's 30%," Lorna admitted, wincing a little. "I've never made wine, but Jamie and I've distilled Poitín a time or two. Irish potato alcohol, because who needs two national stereotypes when you can have one big one?" She wasn't going to say that American beer sounded bloody awful. Even she had more tact than that. "My normal job's tending bar, so if you're curious about experimenting with anything before you order it at the pub, let me know. In Ireland, at least in the rural places, it's not considered real alcohol unless there's a chance it'll send you blind."

Earlene stared. "Thirty percent?" She found this uproariously funny and started laughing, ultimately holding onto Thranduil's arm for support. It was the only possible reaction she could have, because it didn't take quick math to realize that her King had just saved her life. When she could finally speak again, she smiled and said, "Lorna, from here on out I'm not going to try to do a thing in this country, without running it by you first. I thought I'd done my research, but clearly I missed a few important details. While I'm sorry Mick broke himself, I'm not sorry you came to town."

Lorna tried not to laugh herself, and failed - though at least she managed not to choke on her beer. Jamie would kill her for wasting it like that. "I didn't think I'd have this much fun here, that's for damn sure. My first bit'v advice: if somebody offers you Poitín, make them tell you the percentage first. At its weakest, it's 40%; at strongest, it's 90%. I wasn't joking about it sending people blind."

Somewhat abruptly, or perhaps feeling like she'd commented enough on alcohol, Lorna turned her attention back to Thranduil and fired another question at him. "Why now? I'm guessing your people'v been in here since bloody forever, so what's drawn you out?" It was entirely possible they'd just felt like it, but...she doubted it. She doubted someone like Thranduil did anything without a reason. Elves. Elves. How was this her life? And how on Earth had Earlene reacted, when she first found out what he was? Americans weren't known for being the gullible sort; it might well have been as much of a shock as it had been to Lorna herself. Earlene was rather braver than she was - at first contact, Lorna would probably have legged it and never returned, because...because.

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, not expecting this complex combination of nearly dying, possible blindness, and mortal humor. Perhaps there was more that he did not understand about them, than he could readily imagine, he thought. But he was more occupied with how to answer Lorna's question. It seemed that full truthfulness worked better than other approaches, he'd already concluded. Looking intently at Lorna, he spoke. "Nor am I sorry you have come, Lorna. To answer your question, if there is a reason behind why I have decided it is time for change among us, it was Earlene. For long years this property has been inhabited, on and off, by one or another of your kind. As long as the woods were left alone, it was no affair of ours. And, in the passage of time, people had not been markedly different. Simple people led simple lives, here.

For about a hundred of your years, prior to now, this home remained unoccupied, and then one day a flurry of activity began and culminated with Earlene's arrival. It did not take long to realize how much the world outside had changed, in this short time. You humans have become very great, in your own way. We are curious by nature. And though this may sound overly simple to your ears, this is the first time in a very long while there has been anything new about which to be curious."

She paused, giving Thranduil's answer due consideration. She could well see why a modern human moving here would be cause for curiosity; the world really had changed one hell of a lot in little more than a century. They'd gone from horses and candles to cars, airplanes...yeah, there was plenty to be curious about, and so long as they stayed put, more or less, they wouldn't be in any danger from the outside world. She wondered if they yet knew a human had walked on the moon. "It's not what I'd call simple," she said, rolling her bottle between her palms almost without thought. "The world's never been as it is now, in all'v history, and it changed in a bloody great hurry." Elves, being magical and all, had probably been used to having loads of things humans had historically lacked, but now, the humans had loads themselves that the Elves probably hadn't even heard of before. But she wondered...it would probably take a century or two for them to exhaust all their curiosity, but what would happen when they got bored?

Not our problem, she told herself. She knew approximately fuck-all about Elves and their societies; maybe they never got bored. "It's good you've got Earlene here as a guide. Most'v us in the village - we know a lot about Ireland, but she's got an actual education." Lorna could help but give Earlene a wry grin. "You'll not find many around here who can have what anyone'd call an intellectually stimulating conversation. Some'v us have done a lot'v reading, but degrees are pretty thin on the ground." She herself actually had a decent, if spotty, education, because there was a lot of time to read in prison, and not much else to do. There was much neither she nor anyone else nearby would be able to explain, but Earlene probably could.

Earlene smiled. "College is good for some things, not everything. At least that's what I tell myself, about wanting to come here so I could rake up chicken poop. But yes, I understand what you mean. I thought Thranduil might like it at the pub, one of these days. If, that is, we'd both be welcome. I don't think there's any wish to offend the sensibilities of the villagers."

Thranduil's face did not reveal the surprise he felt, because he realized what Earlene was doing. She was testing, probing, whether or not this visit with Lorna could be used as a way to accelerate his acceptance on the part of the others. It was a brilliant move, and not one he would have thought of himself.

Lorna turned this over along with her beer bottle. Mick had seemed downright spooked, but Ian hadn't. It was probably all a matter of approach...and whether everyone had warning. If they dropped in unannounced, it might not go so well, but if she or Ian or someone made it known they'd be turning up at a certain time on a certain day, they'd be a little more prepared. Not, she thought, that it was possible to be fully prepared for Elves, if you'd never seen one before. "I think it'd be all right," she said slowly, "but not just yet. Give me a few days to float the idea around. The Irish, we don't always react well when we're startled." She looked at Thranduil. "No offense, but you're a bit-" _creepy,_ she thought "-intimidating, even if you're not trying. Tall people usually are anyway, but…"

She had absolutely no idea how to say this without it sounding horrendously rude, but not saying it would do everyone a disservice in the end. "Look, there's no way to put this that's not rude, but it's kind'v obvious to a certain type'v person that you could be dangerous. Some'll be uneasy at first, but just talk to them. Once it's clear that while you could be a threat, you're not actually going to be one, you'll put them more at ease. And I'm not going to lie - with some, it might take more than one visit, but they'll get there eventually. Also, eat before you go. The pub food's not the worst, but it's not the best, either."

She debated warning Thranduil to watch how he moved, but she doubted that was actually possible. People like her and Mick - people who had lived on the wrong side of some very bad things and very bad people - recognized a predator when they saw one, but they weren't the only ones who might. She didn't think it was at all conscious on Thranduil's part, and others who noticed might not be able to articulate it to themselves, so there was probably nothing for it. "If I say 'podozhdite', let either Mick or I step in for a moment. It means 'wait' in Russian, so nobody else'll know what I'm saying, and we can soothe anybody that needs it." It was probably inevitable that Thranduil was going to freak someone out, but she and/or Mick could deal with it. She didn't fully trust him yet herself, but it was nothing personal; Lorna didn't truly trust anyone she'd just met. In her former life, trusting too easily got you killed.

"I understand, Lorna," Thranduil said, softly. "I can explain what it is you see in me, and in an offer of friendship, I will do so. He lifted his eyes to hers, and held her gaze. "Long ago, Lorna, the world was a different place. Dark powers, the like of which you cannot imagine, sought to corrupt all that was good and light, and to destroy the beauty in which men and elves alike were meant to live and take delight. I was a warrior king, and one of great renown. I defended a realm larger than the entire island you call Ireland for a countless lives of men. I could not tell you how many I slew in battle, or in defense of my people. But never once did I use my strength against any who were not servants of darkness. While my duty was first to my people, where I was able I gave care and aid to any who served the good in our world. The darkness of the world into which I was born was vanquished in the end, long ago. Now, the safety of my woods, and my people to whom I owe my duty, are the only concern remaining to me. From what little Earlene has shown me, there are far greater perils to your world than me, or my people. I believe you have an expression, "I am on your side." Do not confuse my power with menace, Lorna. Were I evil, the village would not exist. I have done what I could, to protect those nearby from outsiders who intended harm, without revealing myself. It was done out of respect, and gratitude."

Lorna eyed him closely. By now she was pretty adept at spotting bullshit, and this wasn't bullshit. "Make sure the village knows that," she said, "when you meet them. That you've protected it, that is. Humans, we tend to fear what we don't understand, but if you let us understand, they'll be more likely to accept you." She drained the last of her beer. "And I'll give you another bit'v advice: don't mention the 'king' bit right off. Ireland's got nasty history with monarchy that'd take me an entire week to explain, so it'd be best to save that until everyone knows you some. 'King' is a word that we, as an entirely bloody people, are a bit allergic to. The idea'v a protector'll go over grand, and it might do good if you've any stories you'd be willing to share. I think they'd all like to believe you're on our side, so you've just got to let them know that you are. I don't think it's possible for anyone to be too reassuring, so just...confirm what they already want to think." Not that she had any idea in hell how to actually do that. He'd figure out something, she was sure, and she and Mick could pave the way a bit beforehand. "You're part'v village legend already, or so I've gathered. Your existence won't come as half as much a shock to them as it did to me. Though be prepared for some bizarre questions. We're a bit good at those, us humans." It was unlikely anyone else would ask why his hair and eyebrows didn't match, but it wasn't impossible.

"Your advice is appreciated, Lorna. And I have no intention of attempting to make myself a king outside of my own kingdom. Earlene has already begun teaching us about the kings that ruled these lands. In the world from which I came, being a king first meant duty and heavy responsibility. While the honor, wealth and the trappings of such a station may have been greater, so was the burden and the need to care for many. It seems many of your kings had no concept of this, and for that I am sorry. What I am among my own people has no bearing outside of my realm, and I have no desire for that to be otherwise."

That was a rather large relief, because otherwise things could get...messy. For absolutely everyone. She eyed her empty bottle. "Ours starved us, murdered us, and took more than a few'v us as slaves, pretty much. They're why your forest is the only one like it left in Ireland - they took all our timber to build themselves ships. We broke free a hundred years ago this past spring, after fifteen hundred bloody years. If you reassure everyone that you're not looking to extend your kingdom out past your forest, that'll help. A lot." She looked at Earlene. "For a while in the eighteen fifties, there were more native-born Irish people in America than there were in Ireland, because the Blight drove us to look for somewhere we wouldn't starve to death. We grew other crops, but the bloody British took them all, and only left us potatoes. When they rotted in the ground, we had nothing else."

As she spoke, Thranduil's eyes widened. Lorna had no way of knowing that her words were kindling a very deep grief, and shame. While he did not know about how the kings had treated her kind, he very well knew about the taking of the forest. His forest. He had never failed so utterly, in all his life, as when his complacency and his lack of vigilance had allowed this to happen. There was only one honest thing he could say to Lorna in response.

"You cannot imagine how sorry I am, that these things happened." He could not fully hide the grief in his voice, nor keep all of the misery he felt inside from settling over his face. Earlene turned to look at him, never having heard that tone in his words before. She could not ask, with Lorna here, but...even though she could not read his thoughts as he did hers, she could feel the tension through the body against which she rested.

Great, now she'd upset him, Lorna thought. She was just on a roll today, wasn't she? "Oi, it's not your fault people have always sucked," she said, as gently as she actually could. "Jesus, I've poisoned one'v you and upset the other. If either'v you ever want to be near me again, I'd count myself lucky. I've got to head out, but I'll talk to Mick, and we'll do some talking around the village. Earlene, let me know what day you'd like to come to town, and I'll let everyone know." Lorna hauled herself to her feet, automatically gathering up the empty bottles and stowing them in her rucksack. "There's more beer where that came from, if either'v you want any more."

"Then bring it, next time you come, Lorna," Earlene said, her voice already serious, and rapidly heading toward absolutely no-nonsense in tone. "I don't want you leaving here thinking that. You might not want to believe it, but you have done more good for me than you can realize, today, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it." She glanced over at Thranduil, realizing she could not speak for him, but hoping that what she herself had said would make enough of an impression. "Besides, next time I'm going to be prepared, and make pretzels. We'll see how your beer fares against an adequate supply of baked goods already in my stomach," she teased.

Lorna looked slightly startled, at this declaration, and Earlene continued to press her advantage. "Besides, Lorna, I'm a lawyer. That is code for, I am a professional at winning arguments." Her words were pointed but her tone was soft. She simply very badly wanted Lorna to leave with a far more realistic assessment of how the visit had gone.

"If I have, I'm glad," Lorna said. "I try, even if I fail half the bloody time. And if you've got home-baked pretzels, you'll never be free'v me." She couldn't help but smile a little. "I learned years ago not to argue with lawyers. I'll come back my next afternoon off, though I'm not sure yet when that'll be. Mick doesn't keep anything like regular hours."

"Send me an email when you know, if I don't see you at the pub first. There are times I'm elsewhere, and I'd honestly hate to miss you."

Earlene actually seemed to be telling the truth. Lorna counted herself luckier than she could have expected, after...everything. "I'll do that. Business isn't exactly booming right now, so it shouldn't be that long." She paused. "One thing you ought to know now, we Irish don't say goodbye, we say good luck. Good luck to you both." She gave them a nod, and headed off toward the forest border.


	14. Chapter 14

As Earlene watched Lorna walk into the distance, she felt too many confusing things settle over her, though two stood out. The first, was that she did not understand what had upset Thranduil so much. The second, was the sinking realization that instead of managing to confide in him, after all he'd done for her, she'd opened up finally to someone she'd known for a grand total of perhaps an hour. As a well of misery opened up inside of her, she stood up. There had to be more medication; her symptoms would only get worse until there were real problems. Allowed to go on long enough, this kind of instability could and usually did result in full-blown anxiety attacks; something she was highly motivated to avoid. After taking only two steps toward the bathroom, she heard him.

"Earlene. Please come to me, meluieg. Let me help you." He had his own grief to think on, at the moment, but he could not allow himself the luxury. For days, he had hoped that she might finally turn to him, and now the possibility existed.

She stopped where she stood, her lips parted. There was no command, no hardness in his voice. Only softness and pleading.

 _How could he possibly help? This wasn't a broken bone or a bruise._ Yet, he had just saved her life. Forcing herself, she did something extraordinarily difficult, for her. Returning to him, she went to his open arms and let herself be guided to sit once again in his lap. Bowing her head against his chest, she wrapped her arms around him in the first real show of vulnerability she'd ever offered to another.

"I am so sorry, Thranduil. I am sorry I could not be honest about...being like this. I hope you can forgive me." Her chest was heaving with the struggle to speak the words, as the anxiety inside of her mounted. Facing these feelings even with medication was not always easy. Without it, she felt like she was falling down a deep hole. She could no longer control the tears that would now pour out of her stupid, broken self, and began to tremble and sob against him as her anxiety consumed her.

His hands came up to caress her shoulders. "Earlene, do not fear. I will care for you. Estelio nin, meluieg." Holding onto him tighter was all that she could do. That she had returned to him, instead of to the bottle of pills, was as much trust as she knew how to show anyone. His arms enveloped her just before a feeling like, and yet unlike, the medication washed over her. It pushed back against the turmoil inside of her with a strength she could not comprehend. Her breathing became erratic as her emotions struggled to follow what was happening in her mind. Where her own resilience had failed, something else took its place, as her vision filled with a bright light. When his hold on her relaxed, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. As she rested against him with her eyes closed, she was searching through her thoughts and feelings, unable to understand how he could have done this...and yet he unquestionably had. All of her sense of torment was gone; she felt perfectly well. Deeply shocked, she did not move for many minutes, certain that the other shoe was about to drop. All the while, his hand caressed her back, in measured circles.

When it became obvious that the shoe was staying firmly put, it was not easy to find words. "I am even sorrier now than I was before, my Lord. I do not know how to thank you, nor how to say how much I regret that I did not tell you, when you first asked me. I am ashamed."

He shifted her in his arms, and she knew that a command to look at him would not be far behind. Before he could speak it, she lifted her eyes to his, though she felt very badly about...everything.

His expression of sadness was not what that she expected to see. "Please listen to me, meluieg. You have asked for my forgiveness for confiding in someone who could understand you instead of someone who could not, thanked me for fulfilling my sworn duty to you, and told me you feel ashamed because you did not wish to speak of the harm my ignorant words caused you. When you struck me, I did as I felt I must; not comprehending the depths of suffering out of which you acted, without any premeditation. I had no way of knowing that your experiences had damaged your mind, and that because of me this harm done to you was given new life. I pushed you past the limits of your spirit, and then punished you for falling victim to that which I awakened. I am the one who is sorry, Earlene. I am the one who needs to ask you to forgive me."

She looked down, her eyes pools of regret, as she shook her head. "Of course I forgive you. I knew that you had no way to truly understand, Thranduil," she said in tones barely above a whisper. "Even among humans, there is no guarantee that someone would have any ability to relate to my circumstances. Lorna was a surprising exception. I agreed to live under your laws, and I do not fault you. You have to realize, someone else might have been able to tell you in a way that was different, or tell you sooner. I have lived in my world by never showing weakness, by doing anything and everything necessary to maintain outward appearances.

Even though I gave myself to you, I did not know how to lower those defenses. But thanks to a very tiny Irishwoman who can apparently drink me under the table, they are lowered now." Sitting up straighter, and looking at him, she cupped his cheek with her hand. "You saved my life today. Duty or not, I am grateful." She paused, as her eyes searched his. "And unless I am much mistaken, I am not the only one carrying a burden. While I have no right to ask you to confide in me, especially in view of my own shortcomings, please know that I would listen gladly. I love you, my Lord, more with each passing day." Leaning forward, she gently placed a kiss on his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he pulled Earlene against him once more, holding onto her. The problem was, he had not expected to find that a mortal woman could be like her. They were supposed to be...otherwise. Simpler. Different. More predictable. Like Lorna, more suspicious. Could he have treated her as he did, in the beginning, had he known?

 _No, I could not have._

Just as he could not have anticipated the rapidly widening depth of emotion he felt for her. He had felt assured that his oversight of her would be so easily managed...he had assumed he could remain far more detached. What would he say to Alassëa, if she could see him now, with a mortal woman in her place? More than that, a mortal woman whose love worked ever deeper into his heart? With a wrenching in his spirit, and an audible gasp, Thranduil's eyes widened as understanding struck him.

There was only one reason his feelings could even be possible... _His union with Alassëa had been severed._ He had refused to sail to Valinor, to join her...though he had always told himself that she had refused to remain at his side. She must have petitioned, somewhere in the long stretches of time, for the dissolution of their bond. And if that bond had not been in effect, it meant that he had married Earlene in the eyes of the Valar, when he joined his body to hers. _Have I forsaken the life of the Eldar?_ _What have I done?_ The thoughts hit him like a brick to the head, and no answers came.

Earlene gently pushed back from his hold. "My Lord?" she asked, her eyes filling with concern at the pale and stricken look on his face. Standing up slowly, he carefully deposited her on her feet, facing her. There was a way to be certain, at least of one thing. If his surmise was correct, there was nothing to be done; the act was already accomplished. He needed first to test his own heart.

"Earlene, I will tell you what it is you ask about. But just now, I greatly desire you. Could we? Please?" As he asked, his fingers traced down gently over her the skin of her neck, the jewels, and her breast. Confused, but eager for him as always, she took his offered hand as he led her to the bed. He needed to feel the honest responses of his heart to her, with no thought of any other concern or necessity. Focused on this alone, he felt himself surge with emotion as he entered her, and opened his spirit. She sensed something was different, within him, and reached up to kiss his lips in love, and gratitude. As he moved within her, something very beautiful and rare seemed to fill the space around them. To Earlene it was the sun shining on a mountain meadow, the cool breeze on the warm sands of the shore, and the tender love of feeling cherished somehow all combined into one sensation. It was completely outside of her previous experience with him, but she both perceived and relished it. When he brought them both to their shared ecstasy, the blazing in his heart told him all that he needed to know. It was not the same, as the feeling he remembered with Alassëa, but it was yet strong and deeply rooted. _Was this profound yet tempered experience of love what was granted, to those who wed with a mortal?_ He closed his eyes as he answered his own question. _Obviously._

As he rested very lightly on her body, supporting most of his own weight, he allowed his head to drop in resignation. Of his connection to her, he now had no doubt. The full consequences of his actions would become known in time. If he had indeed forsaken his immortal life, it could not be undone. Thoroughly chastened, he could not but help smile wryly at what had happened. He would not behave in a cowardly manner, or allow a display of regret to color what he would have to explain to Earlene. The degree to which he had been ensnared in his own nets could not be more thorough, or more elegant. What he'd imagined he was doing only to her, albeit with justification, he had done to himself as well. It was entirely possible that he, who had vanquished thousands of foes, would now in a short matter of years meet the end of his very long life. If this was the price of his own hubris, he would accept it.

"Gi melin, Earlene," he said, as he gently moved off of her, kissing her cheeks. "Are you hungry?" His eyes sparkled at her with warmth.

While she was certainly not complaining, she did not understand what she was seeing within him. Yet after her own inability to speak to him in recent days, she could hardly demand explanations. Smiling, she realized that she must show patience, as he had done for her. If he wished to tell her, he would.

"Oddly enough, not really. I think I could eat in an hour or two but...between Lorna's beer and all that has happened, I feel yet a little too unsettled to eat. But can I prepare you something, Thranduil?" _Perhaps his own hunger was the real reason he was asking?_

"No, meluieg. I feel the same as you." He dressed himself, so she did likewise. Before she could ponder much that she had no idea what to do next, he lifted her into his arms. Somehow, walking in his woods while he spoke would make this easier.

As he walked out of the door with her, and into the trees, she could not help but wonder, but said nothing for a time. Held seated in his arms, she found herself looking down on him, a little, as she loosely held onto his neck. It was too hard to resist running her hands through the beautiful strands of his pale hair. As she saw him step effortlessly through the trackless expanse of trees, she considered. He must know every branch of every tree here. It was not given to her, to comprehend how old he must be. He had not offered to tell her, and she was not sure she wished to know. As these thoughts crossed her mind, he glanced up at her, and she found his expression unreadable beyond that he seemed to want to say something, but could not. Her heart filled with sympathy...she could very much relate. He stopped, and took a deep breath, glancing at her once again.

"There is something I must tell you, Earlene, and I do not know where to begin."

Tilting her head, she smiled, still playing with his hair with absentminded affection. "Sometimes it is easier to state the crux of the matter. Then once it is out in the open, the hows and the whys can be explained after. Like if I had been able to say to you, 'Thranduil, I am suffering from a mental illness that I have to control with medication.' Something like that."

He sighed once again, forcing himself to smile through his trepidation and meet her eyes. "Earlene, I have wed with you according to the laws of my people. You are my wife."

She looked at him, shifting her eyes and blinking, before looking at him again. "You truly mean this, my Lord?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I do."

Looking down, she said slowly, "For me, this is an unthinkable honor. But for you...I remember what you told me, and...I wonder if this is unwelcome for you? I would not take offense if it were. But perhaps it is best that I stop talking and let you explain how this can be; I cannot pretend to know the laws of elves."

Thranduil walked on as he spoke, and for several long minutes explained how their natures as elves moved in accord with their laws, and his inescapable conclusions based on the feelings in his heart. She listened very carefully, and then frowned. "Thranduil...what has this cost you?" The question was posed as kindly as she could...she had not forgotten the story of Arwen.

He stopped again, and looked into her eyes. "Perhaps nothing, and perhaps a very great deal, Earlene. Our gods have moved far away from us, and there are times...I question whether we have been cast adrift. Only the passing of years will tell. Whatever the outcome, I will cherish the life with you that is granted to me. While some might see this as an elegant justice for my treatment of you, I cannot view it as such. I gladly profess my love for you, meluieg. I would not have you think of me as filled with regret, because I am not. I am grateful to be your husband, and to find myself united with you."

Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead, and moved a strand of hair from his eyes. "My King, what changes, between us? I do not mean to minimize what you have told me but...though the word was not used, I was as married to you as it is possible to be without a ring and a piece of paper to prove it. You already had me, in every sense of the word."

He furrowed his brow, considering. "You have already become aware of my increased affection toward you, these past days. It is an outpouring of my deepening love for you, and will continue." He smiled. "And I will certainly place a ring on your finger; it is our custom as well. I suppose the greatest thing would be that the wife of a King is a Queen, Earlene."

"I see," she said, smiling, shaking her head. "I moved here to have a dull and quiet life. So far, it isn't working very well." Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him. "It is all your fault, and I love you very much for it. I am happy to have you, my Lord. Though," she grew quieter "I genuinely hope that the cost to you is not what I fear it is. I would never have wanted..." his finger against her lips silenced her.

"I have lived for a very long time, Earlene. If it is to be, then it is to be. I will not go forward with regrets, and I especially will not have you carrying them for me."

Taking his hand, she kissed it, nodding.

"It is time we return for a meal, meluieg. And then afterward, I must do the most difficult thing of all."

She looked at him, with her eyebrows raised in query.

Smiling, he said. "I must tell Thanadir. I will want to spend the afternoon in my Halls, Earlene. Would you come with me?"

"Of course, Thranduil." Though, she recalled, their computers were expected to arrive very soon. She shrugged to herself. There should be a shipping notification; she would have to check on the order. And, she could leave instructions for parcels to be left at the back door. Theft was not a concern.

He continued, as he carried her back. She found this seating arrangement to be strange and charming, all at the same time. While she could certainly walk on her own, this intimacy was proving to be very enjoyable; she did not ask to be set down. It was also nice, not to have to crane her head up to look at his face, as he spoke. "There is more to tell you, though not about our relationship. You asked me earlier why Lorna's words upset me. I told you, before, about elves, and our fading."

He looked down. "Earlene, it was and is my duty to protect my woods, the woods of Eryn Lasgalen. And for thousands of years I did so, and the ways of men did not change. Sometimes they would come, to make use of the forest for timbers. It was a small thing, and I allowed it because the forest was large, vibrant; there was enough for all and they took so little. The trees had long since ceased to be awake, as they once were. I grew complacent and believed that eternity would stretch out ahead of us, with life continuing on in the same manner. I stopped paying attention, and withdrew to my Halls with the others, to reflect and to rest. No longer did I roam the forest and watch over it carefully. I emerged one day from my reveries to find the woods had disappeared, with only this tiny tract of forest left to us. Taken. It is what Lorna said, about the timber being used to build ships." Grief filled his voice, which now was broken and unsteady. "I could not have imagined that such greed and destruction could be possible, and I had done nothing to stop it in my heedlessness. Nothing can excuse my failure, Earlene. I have never ceased my vigilance after what happened; not so much as a branch will I now permit to be harmed, as you well know. But..." he looked up to the sky, his face covered in sorrow, "...nothing can ever undo the consequences of my neglect."

He looked into her eyes, his face full of sadness. "I have never forgiven myself. It is another reason why we must all reawaken, once again. The last time I thoroughly ignored the advances of the world of men it cost me almost all of my realm. I will not make the same mistake twice. I will ensure that we at least understand the capabilities of your kind, with some measure of insight. It is why I needed you so desperately, Earlene, why I had to secure your loyalty to me as quickly as possible. You understand the laws of men to a degree that few others do. More than anyone else who might have come here, you can help us to secure our safety, into the future. I might not have had a similar opportunity for another thousand years, if ever, and I could not let it slip through my fingers."

Listening to this, her lips parted in astonishment. _Now it all made sense. Why he'd behaved as he did from the first moment she'd arrived...all of it._ A part of her almost wished to cry, out of pity. _Elves are not so different than humans, after all. They have hopes and fears and desperate desires just like us. Immortality and power doesn't make them invulnerable or perfect._ She now saw the full scope of why he'd treated her as he did, and she was filled with sadness for him. Her career had left her no stranger to desperation or ruthlessness. _This is a Greek Tragedy_ , she thought. But what she said was different. "I will help you however I am able, my King. Even if I did not love you, I would still try to help you address that which you fear."

Once again Thranduil stopped walking, to look at her, leaving her to slightly wonder if they'd ever quite make it back for lunch.

"Meluieg," he said, with a searching look on his face. "You have, with one exception that was not your fault, treated me with every form of courtesy and deference. I...used you, without compunction, until you had no choices left. I apologize to you, Earlene, for what I have done. I now believe you would have helped me had I never coerced you, had I but given you the opportunity. I am sorry. I can only offer in my partial defense that I did what I believed I must, at the time." As he finished speaking, he dropped his head, lowering his eyes from hers in a gesture of emotional submission that she would never have expected to see from him.

Too many thoughts crowded into her head, and one was worse than all the rest. Reaching out to turn his face back up to look at her, she spoke to him in a very odd and strained tone of voice.

"Please listen to me, my Lord." She had to break away from his gaze for a few seconds, before she could speak.

"That you offer me an apology means a great deal to me, as one thinking and feeling person speaking to another. But...if by treating one person as you treated me, I could have stopped the towers from falling, kept my friends from dying, saved my city and my world from all that was to follow, I would have done all that and much more. I want you to know that I hold nothing against you, Thranduil. I cannot say that I would not have done the same, were I in your place. While I will not pretend to have ever carried your burdens, I understand well that great responsibility can require actions that are distasteful. Sometimes, choices become larger than the rights of a single individual, like it or not. So, I can hardly hold your actions against you, when the only thing dividing your behavior from what I myself would choose is that I lack your power." She looked away once again, in the discomfort of admitting these feelings to another. But they were uncomfortable because they were true. Sighing deeply, she raised her eyes to him again.

"There was more, besides. I wanted what you were offering. Very badly. Though you did manipulate me and use my desire to your best advantage, you did not remove every last thread of free choice. I, of all people, understand agreements and decisions and consequences. I surrendered to my hunger for you, knowing that there was risk. And while all that has happened was not easy for me, I am not sorry that I chose you." With her hand still firmly holding his chin as she saw the gratitude in his eyes, she kissed him. It was a kiss that almost begged him to try and argue with her further.

When she released him, they held each other's gaze for a moment. He smiled, and touched his forehead to hers, embracing her tightly before continuing his walk home. And this time, there were no more interruptions.

Seeing that she had an hour remaining to prepare lunch, she changed into her dress without being asked, and busied herself making pasta with chicken and vegetables. Smiling to see her...husband...hovering at her side, she began to teach him how to make a basic white sauce. That word would take some getting used to.

"When we go to your Halls, my Lord, will I be left alone? May I study?" Thanadir would return soon, and she preferred to ask in private, first.

"No meluieg, we will be occupied." He looked at her sadly. "I will not be leaving you imprisoned, this time."

Earlene had already put this out of her thoughts, and her lips parted, at being reminded. Seeing the look on his face, she smiled and shook her head. "It was not...that bad, my Lord. I slept almost the entire time."

He held her close, with his head bowed over hers. "With a broken hand, while I filled your dreams with thoughts of guilt. I am so sorry, Earlene."

She pushed away from him, more forcefully than she meant to. "My King, please," she asked. "Do not do this, to either of us. You could have done much worse, and I still would have accepted it as a consequence for striking you. If you will not allow me to fret about what your union with me has cost you, then neither can you keep dwelling on the more unfortunate aspects of how we began our life together." Looking up, she reached her hand up to cup the side of his jaw. "Please," she said, one last time, her eyes full of longing.

Nodding, he drew her back into his arms. "I will do this, because you ask it, meluieg."

As Thanadir approached the house, he saw his King embracing his firiel, his mortal Lady. But when he saw how long the embrace lasted, and the look on his monarch's visage...a shadow settled over his heart. This did not seem...as it should be. He was relieved to see that they released each other, as he neared the door. It would be unseemly to knock as they embraced, and equally awkward to stand outside waiting for them to finish. Though, he had to admit, he did enjoy greatly Earlene's food, and her courtesy. _Not_ , he told himself as he pressed a wrinkle out of the cloth of his immaculate tunic, _that I would be less than content to eat anything my Lord provided, whether it was these fine meals or thousand-year-old lembas._

With a soft knock, he made his presence known. It pleased him to see Earlene look up with a smile, and come to admit him. "Len suilon, Your Excellency," she said softly, lowering her eyes.

Earlene did not particularly care what being Thranduil's queen might mean for her. It was simply not in her to attempt to "lord it over" one of the elves for even a minute, regardless. The seneschal might well suffer greatly for having met her, and she had no wish to add to his woes. While Thanadir settled himself, Earlene quickly checked on the computers... _they would be out for delivery tomorrow; just as well._

The delicious lunch was served and enjoyed, and within the hour all three of them were returning to the Halls. Thanadir insisted on following behind them, as Thranduil offered Earlene his arm. After they had passed the Gates, Earlene once again found herself walking the narrow passageways in the company of her King, though even she had to admit, this visit was far nicer than the previous one. As on the first occasion, he guided her to his throne, though he did not ascend to the actual seat. In what seemed like a blur of motion, he turned Earlene to face Thanadir, while standing behind her with both of his hands securely holding her shoulders.

"Thanadir, i sadron nîn," she heard, before the words and syntax left her understanding far behind. Only years of training allowed Earlene to keep her composure. Whereas previously she had always lowered her eyes from the seneschal's in deference, she found that she could now not tear them away in a combination of unease and morbid fascination. While she could not understand the individual words, the content was no secret, nor was the fact that Thranduil was emphasizing his declaration by drawing her back closer against him while folding her into his embrace. It was possible that Thanadir's eyes were wider than Earlene's, as they regarded each other helplessly. Her heart filled with sympathy for the elf, as she watched his expression range from disbelief, to flickers of sorrow, to confusion, finally settling into a permanent look of deep shock. Part of her wished badly to apologize to him, though she had done nothing wrong and nothing could have been avoided, on her part.

Her eyes widened in horror as Thanadir bowed deeply to her, and said quite clearly, "Hiril vuin." She was about to open her mouth to beg Thranduil to not require him to show her deference, when she felt the King's hands tighten on her and heard his voice in her mind.

 _This is how it must be, Earlene. You must accept the courtesy he shows you, or you will deeply offend him. You may thank him, or merely smile kindly and incline your head, but you must not reject his gesture._

Rearranging her features barely in time, she did all of the above, when he raised his eyes to hers. What she did not change was the look of sympathy for him, as she met his gaze before dipping her head in acknowledgement.

"Le hannon, Your Excellency."

The faintest smile played across the seneschal's face once again, softening his features.

Thranduil spoke rapidly to Thanadir once more, before he nodded, bowed deeply to his King, and departed. Watching the seneschal leave, Earlene lightly placed her hands over his, seeking to feel more grounded than she did at the moment. The exchange had felt like a bizarre, parallel universe to that of her former occupation. Perhaps not necessarily in the courtroom, but most definitely the one out of it. Had she not seen how power could shift and transfer, with but a few words from the right person? As she held onto the King, and looked over the grand space of the Hall, her lips parted. What must this have been like, when hundreds and thousands of elves filled these caverns? She felt caught up in something so much bigger than her. S _top. thinking. now._ she ordered herself. Her soundness of mind had been returned to her, and she was not about to waste it on sentiments that would not help either of them.

Gently, Thranduil turned her around to face him, taking her hands in his, and looked at her kindly. "Earlene, it is not yet two weeks since you came to my woods. Give yourself more time, meluieg, to adjust to so many changes."

It was impossible to disagree with that much common sense. "Yes, my Lord," she conceded, smiling. He led her by the hand, through the corridors to his rooms. He walked in ahead of her, to the fireplace, and knelt down. While she distractedly looked around at the still unfamiliar contents of his rooms, he created a blazing fire. When she looked at him finally, she saw that his hand was extended in a gesture of invitation; he wished for her to sit in front of the fire. It was a welcome offer. While she was hardly freezing, neither could the room be described as "cozy". Gladly accepting, she seated herself. He placed a small book in her hand, smiling, and indicated for her to open it. To her delight, she saw that it was a children's book, with illustrations of single words written in Tengwar. It had obviously been made by hand, and was a work of great beauty.

"Could you remain here, and allow me a few moments to care for something?" he asked.

Earlene looked at him in mild disbelief. "You are King, my Lord, you are allowed whatever you wish." Though her voice was level, there was mirth in her eyes at stating the obvious. As he nodded, she saw the same mood reflected in his own bearing, and he departed. Watching him leave, it seemed hard to believe. _Even just today, so much has happened_ , she reflected. _Married._ Wherever all this had come from, she was truly very happy. Having already been accepting of her original circumstances with him, his changed demeanor toward her fell into a category of being more than she ever could have hoped.

 _I outdid myself, on placing the cart before the horse_ , she thought, looking into the comforting flames. _I accepted him because of blatant lust, and I am fortunate enough to have found kindness and love on the other side of it._ Ruefully, she considered that this was another thing that had probably happened badly out of order; she had taken a big risk. _Too big._ That she had arrived at her present circumstances seemed like one more example of her charmed life... _give or take whether one could call being in 9/11 charmed._

Removing her boots to better warm her feet, she decided to stop considering all these things and enjoy the simple but extravagant reality. She was sitting in a King's rooms, surrounded by luxury, and held a precious and rare book in her hands in perfect comfort. Opening the first page, she saw that the first drawing looked like Thranduil. He wore a crown, and she remembered the letters she had looked at. There were only two of them here, and the first one looked like the English letter "y," which was an "r" sound for Sindarin. Each character had three dots over the top...this was the "tehta" method of the writing, she recalled. Her mind began churning. This must be _Aran_ , she realized, smiling. Those three dots meant the sound for "a"...it felt exciting, just to understand this. It was the tiniest triumph of learning, but it felt so incredibly special. And how fitting that it should be the first word she recognized in his written language... _King_. She giggled to herself. _At least_ , she thought, _until I learn the word for "mine."_ Slowly, she turned more pages, and did not see another word that she knew. And that was fine, as she had not memorized many nouns at all...the book seemed filled mostly with those. But the drawings were clever and beautifully colored, so she was lost enough in the pages.

His hand laid gently on her necklace told her that he had returned. Smiling, she said, "It is fortunate that I do not startle easily, my Lord. I am becoming certain that you pass through walls." A low rumble of humor was his only response, as he sat next to her, and kissed her cheek.

"I had faith you would understand 'Aran'," he said, smiling. "Choose one more picture, and I will tell you what it is."

She went back through the pages, wanting a short word so that she might better remember. Pointing to the image of a daisy, she looked up expectantly. This was chosen because she guessed, she hoped, that the first sound was also "a," based on the three dots over the first letter.

"Alf," he said. "Flower."

Carefully closing the book after she stared at the characters for awhile to memorize them, and placing it next to her, she smiled, leaning into him and resting her head against his arm. There were hardly words for how pleasant this was, or how content she felt.

"Earlene, tell me of the marriage customs of humans," he asked, with curiosity in his voice, as he placed his arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer.

"Which ones, Thranduil? American? Irish? There are a great many, around the world."

"Start with what is familiar to you."

She frowned. "Well, there are many traditions even in America, but...first it depends on if a couple belong to a religious faith. I do not, so, among some of those I knew, it was fairly simple. It is foremost a legal contract, so there is a document to be recorded with the government...a marriage license. Usually a small fee has to be paid as well, for this. This license is an official record that is made out, before the ceremony is held that creates the actual marriage. Basically, the two people decide what it is they wish to promise each other; their vows. They speak these before someone with the legal authority to conduct the marriage ceremony, and a witness and...really, that is all that there has to be, as a minimum. There are other customs such as exchanging rings, or whether or not one partner changes their name to create a common surname. Sometimes special clothing is worn for the ceremony, sometimes there is a reception; a party to celebrate the wedding. The couple might go on a honeymoon, a leisure vacation, to celebrate their marriage. In times gone by, the first act of physical intimacy would follow the wedding at the next discreet opportunity, but now, most couples manage that long before there is a wedding. And now that I am trying to explain this to you, I realize how much the answers are all over the place...really I think it ends up being whatever the couple wishes it to be; the only absolute requirements are the legal ones."

"Surname?" he asked, confused.

"Family name..." she laughed, realizing that another point of complete ridiculousness existed between them. "Earlene is not my full name. I am Earlene Rhian Sullivan. Sullivan is my surname, or family name. And I cannot believe that I have married you without you knowing my name..." she shook her head, laughing softly. "And neither do I know the same about you, my Lord. Is Thranduil your full name?"

His eyes were full of surprise...he'd had no idea. This was certainly going to irritate his seneschal, who would now probably wish to record her vows for a third time. Quashing the thought, he answered her question. "Thranduil son of Oropher, is how I have always been known. Thranduil Oropherion, in Sindarin. There was rarely duplication of names among our kind, so more was never necessary."

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, unable to stop finding it funny that she had never told him her name.

"Do both the male and female wear rings, in your tradition?" he asked.

With her hands raised, she wiggled the fingers in question as she spoke. "Yes. Depending on the country, it is on this finger of the right or left hand. In America, the left hand is most common. But in Ireland some wear a special ring, a claddagh. Mostly I think wedding rings are an outward sign to others that the person is spoken for, no longer available to be courted. Though," she added sardonically, "they come off rather easily in this day and age."

"I do not understand, meluieg. 'Come off easily?' "

Earlene looked at him in sympathy. "Sometimes married persons seek out intimacy with those who are not their mates, for pleasure elsewhere. It is often easier to behave in this manner, if one first hides the evidence of being wed. So someone looking to do this will remove their wedding ring, so as to appear single to a prospective bed partner. This used to be against many laws but now...it is widely tolerated, more than not. It certainly happens a great deal, to put it mildly."

Thranduil stiffened, and his voice changed its tone. "Earlene, do you think that because I seduced you while I still believed that I was married to Alassëa, that I would do this to you?"

Confusion spread over her face. "It was not my intention to imply this, my Lord. But...I have seen much of human nature. If you wished to do so, I could not stop you. Nor do I pretend to understand your circumstances with your wife. Everything concerning you is outside of human experience. I can only speak for myself. I wanted you, I still want you, and from what you have told me, I can never _not_ want you, nor can I want another. You have not said whether the same applies to you, but neither did I ask. I do not presume to judge anything about you, Thranduil," she said softly.

He sighed. "Then though you are not asking me, I will tell you. Countless ages of time ago, my seduction of you would not have been tolerated. 'Tolerated' is not even the correct word... it would not have been possible, were my bonds of love for Alassëa yet intact. When you came here, I was not sorry to find a reason to seduce you that was tied to my duty. I desired pleasure with you, Earlene, just as you desired me. This alone should have told me something, had I been paying any attention to my heart. My feelings for her and my consideration of these matters had become buried under a span of time with which I will not burden you. In my arrogance, I imagined that I would keep my promises to you, while maintaining a level of emotional detachment. There were many things that I failed to consider, obviously, and that so much time has passed since we elves lived ordinary lives did not aid me. But so you know, once you were sealed to me, I would not have sought another for intimacy. I will remain faithful to you, Earlene, because it is just as impossible for me to go elsewhere as it is for you."

Nodding, she looked at him, accepting of his words. He brought his right hand to her lap, which was a closed fist. His fingers uncurled to reveal what was held in the palm of his hand.

"Elves place golden rings on each other's hands," he said simply. Smiling, she removed the larger of the two bands from him, to look at it. There was a word inscribed on the inside, in Tengwar.

"What does it say, my Lord?" she asked, curious.

With a mischievous smile he replied, "You tell me."

Looking again, she saw that there were vowel signs, and an "r". And an "l", and an "n." _Three of the only four consonants she knew._ The light bulb went off. "This is my name?" she asked, softly, looking up at him.

He nodded, smiling, pleased that she could puzzle it out.

She gently worked it onto the ring finger of his right hand, not disturbing the smaller band as she did so. _They lived in Ireland; I may as well choose what is most accepted here_ , she reasoned. "Mine," she said, as love and gentle humor filled eyes that looked on him with great reverence.

Thranduil held up her own ring, tilting it so that she could see the lettering inside. A smile spread over her face as she recognized the "r" and "l" again. _Thranduil_. He took her right hand in his, and her heart lurched unexpectedly as he slid the ring onto her finger. The intense emotional intimacy they were sharing filled her with joy. Her eyes were moist as she turned to kiss him, and she saw that she was not alone in this. There was no carnal thought in their shared embrace, only the love of their spirits.

"Thank you, Thranduil," she whispered. "I will always remember this moment."

He pulled her into his lap, and they laced their fingers together. Earlene found she could not tear her eyes away from the sight of their hands, each now wearing the bright golden rings. Idly, she wondered what she would do about this in terms of the outer world...in human society, their marriage would not be officially recognized without further...measures. _That's a can of worms_ , she thought. But of all people, she could navigate that, if and when the need arose. For the time being, she did not wish for anything to intrude on this time alone with him.

His hand moved under her chin, raising her lips to his as his tongue sought entrance into her mouth. _Well, almost anything_ , she thought, as her desire for him unfolded once again, and she was carried in his arms to his bed.

Lorna was supposed to meet Mick at the mechanic, but after that, she needed a drink or five. Jesus. She was pretty sure Mick would understand - and even if he didn't, she was the only help he could afford, so she basically held him hostage.

Shaking her head, she marched up into the pub, squinting into the dimness as she searched for any of the old codgers she'd spoken to the day before. She needed alcohol in her before she could begin this conversation, so she ordered three shots of poitín and downed them in rapid succession. The burn of the alcohol was welcome, but she was one of the sort who'd been cursed with an appallingly high tolerance for drink, meaning she had to down half a river before she started feeling the effects.

Poitín, however, worked nicely, and by the time the third shot had managed to settle a bit, so had her nerves. She'd always been the sort to freely admit she was wrong, but in this case, she couldn't have denied it if she'd wanted to.

John, polishing a glass behind the bar, gave her a once-over. "You look like someone just walked over your bloody grave," he said.

"Bit weirder than that," she said, twirling one of the shot glasses. "I didn't believe for a goddamn second that you lot had an actual elf living in that forest, but I just bloody met him. Creepy bastard, but he actually seems a decent sort." She really didn't want to admit she'd accidentally poisoned Earlene; if that came up, she was creatively editing the truth, because Mick would never, ever let her live it down if he knew.

John's eyebrows raised. "He showed himself to you? That makes two now, with Ian." His forehead furrowed in suspicion. "Hundreds and more 'v years a legend 'v sorts, and now all'v a sudden there's socializing going on? Leave it to an American, showing up here. When it was just our lot, things kept nice and quiet. Next someone'll tell me he's inviting for tea time. Wait. It was the elf king you saw, or just any elf?"

"Both. Their king, and another one," Lorna said, wincing a bit. "I won't lie, he looks like the creepiest person I've ever met, but he seems a good sort. Dead polite, and he takes good care'v Earlene. There's a lot he doesn't understand about the human world, but he seems keen to learn. Here, gimme another." She held her shot glass out to John, whose look of disbelief was far milder than what he'd given when she first arrived. He poured her another shot, and she downed it at one go. "Earlene, she lived through 9/11, and he had no idea what in bloody fuck that was." She eyed the little group; while she didn't know many of them very well, she knew their well-meaning, busybody kind. "Don't you go throwing her any pity parties, or I'll lamp you out, you hear me? She'd not appreciate it, and there's no cause to go making her uncomfortable."

She held out her glass for yet another shot, and John shook his head. "One day your liver'll go on strike," he warned, but poured her another.

Lorna downed that one, too, hoping he wasn't right. "Anyway, she got a bit sick off my beer, and by 'a bit' I mean I gave her bloody alcohol poisoning. I didn't realize American beer was essentially piss, but piss it is, and she paid for it." She wasn't about to mention the Xanax, or the PTSD; those were not her secrets to share.

"Was she really that bad off?" someone asked, a voice she didn't yet recognize.

Lorna snorted. "I know what alcohol poisoning looks like," she said, toying with her shot glass. "Christ knows I've seen it enough before, but he...healed her, somehow. I didn't actually ask how, because I knew bloody well the answer'd be something like 'magic', and I couldn't handle that. Recovery from poisoning like that - it's not possible, or it shouldn't be, but one moment I was afraid she was about to stop breathing, and the next she was pretty much fine." And she still, even now, didn't know what to do with that. If elves were real, what else was? And how was she to know? Her head was too pleasantly fuzzy to worry over it too much, but the worry was still there, even now.

The atmosphere in the pub settled into one of silent reflection, as each of the villagers present mulled over Lorna's news. Though she'd not seen him initially, Rory O'Connor was the first to break the long silence. "Queer happenings, to be sure, but...a bloke like that might not be bad to have around, if you get my meaning. If he can put one'v us back together again, it makes me believe more than ever that the bad sort that'v come around in the past might'v truly gotten just the opposite from him…" he trailed off in his thought, taking another long draw on his glass.

"He says he's on our side," Lorna said, still spinning her shot glass. "I'd believe him. I don't know how many others he's got living in that forest, but the other one I met didn't seem to speak much English at all. Whoever else is in there'll have a lot to learn, whenever they decide to cross the border."

John's eyebrows raised, behind the bar. "Cross the border, Lorna?"

She held out her shot glass, yet again. "Earlene was wondering if anyone'd mind if she brought Thranduil out to the pub some night," she said. "If it'll freak people out, they'll stay home, but it might be good for everyone if he did come. Yeah, he's creepy, but he's been your neighbor forever anyway, and he'll be no harm. He can't help looking a bit like a zombie." She downed the next shot, quite at one with the world. "Curious, he is, and he can hold his liquor better than anyone else I've ever seen." That was, though Earlene might not know it, a point very much in his favor.

Eyebrows now raised all around the room, but their owners were long since lulled into a more forgiving state of mind by the freely flowing Guinness. In a few short hours, this new topic for consideration would seep outward through the quiet village, to slowly coalesce into a group opinion. Odds were, for the price of a few rounds, an elf would fit right in, as well as the next person.


	15. Chapter 15

"Thranduil, I know that our food is elsewhere, but I would like it very much to spend the night here. In your bed. This bed. What we shared here today means a great deal to me; I feel like I do not want to leave."

Earlene spoke softly to him, as her hand moved idly across the bare skin of his chest. Her head was tucked in under his chin, both of them resting quietly after having loved each other. His eyes opened, surprised.

"I gladdens my heart, that you would say this, meluieg. I had feared that you have had too many unpleasant experiences in my Halls."

"My Lord, whatever was not to my best liking was hardly the fault of the caverns," she said, finding his concern humorous. "I will learn how to live here, as well. That was, after all, part of our agreement." She frowned. "You said you had kitchens here, my Lord? And food as well? I think I would like to see them."

He groaned. "I am afraid to turn you lose there, meluieg. The cooks are about halfway to becoming whole again, and if they see that another is doing their job, I fear they will lose motivation. All are doing their best to emerge from fading, but each has different strength."

Earlene debated asking how that worked, exactly, and decided against it. "I would still like to see the kitchens, and I promise you I will not attempt to prepare food here if that is your desire. But if you would prefer not, just now, there is another thing I would ask you."

Her mind was unusually blank. Puzzled and amused, he realized that she might be developing some ability to hide her thoughts from him.

"I am listening, Earlene," he said, indulgently.

"I want to know what is involved, in having a child with you. Not because I want this now, or tomorrow, or next week. But I do want to have the information by which to begin considering this." Her voice dropped lower. "Unless your powers reach further than I am aware, I only have so much time in which that can be possible."

He frowned. "I do not understand, Earlene. You appear to be not yet thirty years of age. Surely there is a great deal of time remaining, by mortal standards?"

She laughed. "I will take that as an unintended compliment, my Lord, but no. I am not yet forty years of age, is more like it. And as such, there is a definite limit on the remaining time. At least, it is considered to be a general wisdom that at my age, it would be best not to dawdle too much."

"Earlene, how old are you?" he asked, with wide eyes.

"Thirty eight, Thranduil. And yes, I look younger than that. Partly it runs in the family, and partly, I have done what I could to care for my appearance."

He laughed softly. "We are doing an amazing job of learning everything about each other after the bonds of marriage have taken us, are we not?"

"It is rather amusing," she said, leaning up to look at him. "But I will work hard to make the best of it," she said, with her eyes shining. "I suppose it is not much different than an arranged marriage was, in bygone times. Have carnal pleasure first, ask questions and figure out the rest later." Her smirk stretched from ear to ear.

Thranduil sighed. "It is not overly complex. A child of ours would be half-elven. Of old, the child would be given the choice by the Valar as to whether to adopt the life of elves or the life of men, and would be then counted accordingly. I will be honest, there has never been an instance in which a mortal female bore the child of a male elf. I sincerely believe that I could safely see you through a pregnancy with my skills of healing; if I felt that there was risk to you, I would not have offered. The only other thing is, gestation for an elleth is usually twelve months. If I am not mistaken, nine is ordinary for mortal women. I do not have a means to tell you how long you would carry the child before birth.

Mostly, Earlene, would be accepting that a child of ours would have an opportunity for immortality. The gift of the Eldar is a blessing, and in some ways a curse. A child born now, and choosing to be counted as an elf, would never know the life I and the others once had. We are relics here, clinging to an uncertain fate in an endless future. We would be bringing new life, and joy, into our world, but to what end? There is much that lies outside my power to know for certain. Perhaps even now, it is possible to pray to the Valar and seek the straight road to Aman. None who elected to remain here have done so, and none of us therefore know the answer. I only want you to understand the implications for the future of our offspring, if we were to bring one forth."

She nodded, thinking. "And what are your feelings on not only a child, but children?"

His eyes widened. "I cannot answer, for I have not even thought of it. It was most often the case than an elleth would bear only one child, though there were exceptions to this as with everything."

"Then thank you for answering my questions," she told him, stretching. "It is much to consider for me, especially when I had never considered it at all. Decisions like this are hard. One always knows what will happen, if one does nothing; things remain the same. The real question is whether opting for walking a different path will prove wise, or disastrous. What was it like for you, when you were considering whether to have your son? Or did you? Sometimes these things just happen," she reflected.

"We wanted Legolas, very badly," Thranduil recalled. "For us it was only a question of having relations until we were blessed with a pregnancy."

"Considering the responsibility never weighed on you?"

"I do not understand the question, Earlene," he said, sitting up now, confused.

"Well babies are a lot of work...they require almost constant care through their first many years. And then all the teaching and education, and more...it is a great deal of commitment, to another living being."

Thranduil smiled. "I have failed to mention something else. Elflings are not like human children. They walk and speak by their first year, and in every way develop at a much faster rate. That being said, our young do not come of age until the life span of a mortal has elapsed."

Earlene sobered, and moved to sit up next to him. "So a child of ours would lose possibly both of us, long before what you would think of as adulthood?"

He sighed. "It is hard to say. Even if I have forsaken my immortality, I would likely still live many years longer than you, if I chose to. Yet I would not base a decision on this, Earlene; he or she would have a home and a family among the elves here. And if I am not mistaken, not all human children are blessed with two parents that live into their own adulthood."

"True," she reflected. "But neither do I want to be selfish. I saw so many people whose only thought seemed to be, _I want a baby._ Nothing was ever said or considered, about giving that baby the best possible future. I know that the best of intentions simply do not always work out as hoped. Yet I would feel some obligation to make this choice from a place of considering more than my own wants." She sighed. "And I believe we have spoken on this enough for now."

"Agreed, meluieg. And perhaps now it is time to show you the kitchens, and more places besides. It does not speak well of me that these rooms, my throne, and a dungeon cell are the extent of what you have seen of my realm."

Earlene felt a twinge of annoyance that he had mentioned the dungeon again, but saw that his eyes were filled with self-effacing humor. The twinge passed quickly, and they rose and dressed.

The next few hours were a wonder, to her. "Kitchens" turned out to be as much of an understatement as "Halls" had been. He showed her to a vast space that called to mind the kitchens of a nineteenth century castle. Once she'd visited Schloß Neuschwanstein and seen the kitchens, and this was a lot like that...on steroids. Banks of ovens, fireplaces equipped with spits and assorted cast-iron spiders, a vast wood-fired stove, and more copper cookware than she had known existed in the world. This was a place designed to serve meals for hundreds and hundreds of diners. The eerie thing was, every bit of it looked like it might have been just used last night, and was waiting for the staff to come back for the next day's work. The metal was polished and bright, and not a speck of dust that she could see lingered anywhere.

"Oh, my," was all she could say. And the storerooms were...worse. He had not been jesting, that they had supplies in abundance. Dry goods were held in drawers, bins, and in neat earthenware storage canisters on shelves. Everything was labelled, of course in Tengwar script, meaning that she could at the moment read none of it. Perhaps this, more than anything, created a stronger desire to not wait so long to learn their letters...it felt intolerable, not to be able to read. Experimentally she reached into a bin that seemed to hold flour, and took a pinch of it between her fingers. Hesitantly, she placed in on her tongue, and found to her disbelief that not only was it not rancid, it tasted fresher and more wholesome than what she had from the grocery in town.

Thranduil watched her in great amusement as she investigated, and looked longingly at all of it. If he allowed it, she would most definitely "turn loose" here...but even she recognized that preparing food under these conditions was a specialty skill. And while she'd helped her gran bake bread in the old wood-fired Wedgewood on the farm, she was not so foolish as to assume that it was easy, or that she'd mastered it. Babysitting the firebox alone was a full time headache, from her memory. And, he saw that they were not alone. Four of them had worked here, in the past. Bainor and Arnos, the ellyn, Glân and Rílas, the ellith. Thranduil turned and inclined his head to them, smiling.

"Earlene," he called to her. Turning, she now saw the four half-faded elves that stood near Thranduil, and approached them.

"Suilad," she said carefully, smiling.

They all said the same back to her, in unison. She might never be fully accustomed to being able to partly see through them, but she was managing. Thranduil presumably explained to them who she was, because all of them bowed or curtsied to her with kind smiles of acceptance.

"Len hannon," she said softly. Turning to Thranduil apologetically, she spoke in English. "I would very much like to watch them work, once they are...back. This is such a beautiful kitchen, i Aran nîn."

He smiled and translated what she had said, and smiles broke out with nods of agreement. Earlene felt very happy, inside, as they left the kitchen. He showed her their armory, the now empty stables, the library, and the many hallways of living quarters now no longer used. _A small city could lodge here_ , she reasoned. He took her next to a place where the stream water still ran through the Halls.

"This was a cascade of roaring water, once, and now it sounds more like a fountain," he said, ruefully.

"But to me it is very beautiful, my Lord," she said, marveling at how lovely the ferns and orchids were that grew nearby, nurtured by the constant moisture.

He smiled. "It fills my heart, Earlene, to see these familiar sights through your eyes." He leaned down to kiss her, and her heart swelled with love for him. His lips were pillow soft, and sweet, and impossible to resist. She had promised herself she would not become obnoxious toward him, but was finding herself caught in emotion that felt like it was radiating out of her.

"Do not try to temper your feelings, meluieg, for I too share them." He held her tightly, with his chin resting on her head. "We have both lived alone, and now have each other. Let us make the most of it."

She nodded, not speaking, because it was the only way to keep from crying with happiness. But after a few moments, as ever, she turned to what might distract her.

"Perhaps we should return soon, so that I will have time to cook our meal," she whispered. What they were doing now could only land them back in his bed.

With a tiny sigh, and the reassurance that since that his bed was an inevitable destination, food might be the wiser choice, he nodded. "There is yet one more thing you must see, and then we will return." He walked her through many corridors, with enough twists and turns that she truly had no idea where she was. A key had appeared in his hand, which he used to unlock a door that was heavy and imposing in appearance. Before opening it, he spoke. "Earlene, this may prove to be another...overwhelming thing. And yet if you are to fully understand our position, you must comprehend the wealth of our realm." He looked at her with great seriousness. "I do not believe I need to tell you of the trust I am placing in you, nor of the need for discretion with any who are not under my rule. This is my vault, and your help will be needed in order to convert some of what is here into the currency of the outer world."

Earlene raised her eyebrows. "I understand, my King," she said quietly. She was no stranger to shows of wealth, but had the uneasy feeling this might be beyond what she could readily imagine. He opened the door, and ushered her inside. The lighting was very dim, but with a wave of his hand, brightened considerably.

Her lips parted. _'Vault' is the latest understatement_ , she decided. This was a vast sub-cavern, of which she could not see the back from their present location. It was awash in gems, gold, jewelry, artifacts, and what she guessed were other precious metals. _De Beer's and Fort Knox combined do not hold this much wealth_ , she thought, shaking her head. He took her hand, and led her through the aisles, and she realized that this might very well equal the holdings of several major countries in the developed world. Stopping, she picked up some of the larger polished stones. If these were the high-quality diamonds she suspected they were, some of them were worth millions at auction...and yet to sell a stone twice the size of the Hope Diamond would be to attract a great deal of attention without careful measures. _Yet,_ she frowned, _he did not seem to be thinking in terms of converting all of it, just small amounts here and there._

She looked at him. "Thranduil, in my world there are economic factors that influence the value of precious metals and gemstones. You should be aware that it is easiest to convert gold and silver to their cash value than gems, though both are possible. Many of the individual stones alone here appear to be exceedingly valuable. The worth of all of these things is influenced by laws of supply and demand, though gold and silver have seen steady and significant increases in value in past years. When the time comes, you should reach a carefully considered conclusion as to what amount of modern cash you wish to obtain. I would advise you that you will attract far less attention, by making one large conversion or sale, than several smaller ones. What you have here is...this is very, very vast wealth, even by modern standards. Inconceivable, really. There are entire countries that do not possess anything like this; if you chose to, you could establish yourself as a world power with what you have here, though I hardly recommend that. I have more than adequate business connections by which to accomplish such transactions quietly, but I will need to explain more to you about things like banking laws and governments, so that you are informed about all the repercussions. Otherwise, as far as I am concerned, I have not seen any of this. You will hear no mention of it from me, until you choose to instruct me further."

He had watched her carefully, and saw that her heart meant every word coming from her mouth. She did not care about what was before her eyes, nor did she covet it.

Thranduil looked at her intently. "There are many pieces of jewelry here, Earlene. You may choose something that pleases you, for your own."

She looked around, blankly. _And wear it...where? And why?_ His necklace was always on her. She closed her fist, feeling the wedding band he'd placed on her finger. Looking up at him, she shook her head. "Thank you for the consideration, my Lord, but the only things I really wish to wear are what you have already given me."

With a single nod, he accepted her decision. For now.

Hand in hand, they departed the vault and his Halls to continue their day.

The following morning Earlene woke to that particular sensation of liquid warmth between her legs. It is the feeling that no woman wishes to wake to, especially when naked and in a beautifully made bed not her own. Mentally cursing her inattentiveness to the calendar, she tried to decide what to do, and had no good options except the more embarrassing ones. About the last thing she wished to do was tell a handsome lover that she could not move without finding some kind of a cloth first, lest blood from her period make a mess of his bed. Heaving a deep sigh, she tried to find the words when his bright eyes suddenly opened, looking at her.

"Forgive me, for not paying enough attention to your body, Earlene. Stay where you are."

She was flabbergasted, as he moved out of the bed and walked into another part of his rooms. Having heard horror stories about husbands and boyfriends who basically ran screaming from the unavoidable monthly event, this was not what she expected to hear. _A man, who somehow thinks this is his responsibility?_ It did not even process.

He returned quickly with a robe for her and a thick folded cloth, which seemed rather excessive for the needs of the moment. Before she could comment, question, or even form a sentence, he had pulled back the covers, placed the cloth between her legs, and lifted her out of the bed and onto a wooden chair, and was helping her into a robe.

"I..." she started to say, completely tied up in a knot...and almost afraid to say too much. Her moods could and did deteriorate rapidly on the first day; it was a given. She had schooled herself at work to not speak to others unless it was absolutely necessary. Otherwise, her irritation and shortness of temper had too much opportunity to flare up. In fact, these were infamously days that she leveraged to "work from home," where she could be as cranky as she wanted to be, in the privacy of her own home. It was not unheard of for her to yell at her own legal briefs as she wrote them...making it not at all a day to be surrounded by male colleagues.

"This will not take long, meluieg," he said, kissing her softly on the cheek as he knelt in front of her, placing his hand over where she guessed her uterus was. It certainly was where the doctor prodded at, during medical exams. In seconds, an extremely disturbing sensation had begun, that felt a great deal like...everything coming out at once.

"What...?!" she said, looking at him with trepidation.

He looked up at her, confused. "This was how I cared for my first wife, Earlene. It is preferable to waiting days for your menstruation to be concluded, is it not?" His eyes were kind, and sincere.

"I did not know that anything different was an option," she said quietly, feeling both relieved and irritated.

His eyes closed as he grimaced. "Of course, how could you? I am sorry, for not explaining first."

She reached to touch his face, forcing herself to ask the question. "Will this keep me from being terrible company today?"

He did not understand the cryptic question, until he searched further into her mind.

"It is difficult for you to speak about this because I am male, and what you are asking me is if I can help the mood your menstruation imposes onto your mind?"

She nodded, feeling like she was somehow failing at...adulting. While she had no qualms about being female, there was no getting around that it always felt like a form of victimization to have hormones influence her state of mind. Men did not seem to cope with a similar sort of biological oscillation, and it felt unfair. Yet it was ridiculous, not to be able to discuss this with him.

"I am sorry, Thranduil. I have never had a man...present, for any of this. I know that it is a natural function, but it is one that most women are taught to keep to themselves. I am afraid humans are not very evolved about this subject, in spite of the fact that half the population of the world has it occur. There is a long and unfortunate list of historical and cultural associations that make a woman's monthly cycle something to hide. I should not participate in this thinking, yet the realities of my former life more or less demanded it."

"We will learn together, Earlene," he said kindly. "I will move you now, to care for the rest of this." He lifted her, cloth and all, and sat with her on the edge of the bed, having somehow procured a small bottle. He saw the ongoing confusion in her, and smiled. "I am going to pleasure you. I do not think you will mind this part," he said, with his eyes twinkling. "Close your eyes and relax into my arms."

The request was easy to follow, given that he was doing something to her that caused a feeling of tranquility. She felt something slippery applied to her intimate parts, swiftly followed by exquisitely timed caresses from his fingers. It was exactly how they had...met, exactly what he had done to her the first time she'd dreamed of him. And she realized now that she had questions, about how exactly he had accomplished that. Yet now was not the time. It was an echo of the first pleasure he had ever given her, and as such was an experience she intended to enjoy. She found that she wanted his fingers as badly as she usually wanted the rest of him. It made her recall the burning desire he'd awakened, and inflamed her body to his touches. Except, this felt like so much more. There was no reluctance, no wondering, as she opened her heart to him, her husband. He did not stop his attentions until she cried out his name in the throes of her release, not noticing that the last of the discharge was being pushed out of her body.

She was still recovering when she felt herself carried yet again, to another chamber through a door, where a steaming sunken bath awaited. He set her down long enough to remove her robe, and then carried her into the water while she craned her neck around in disbelief. "Had you mentioned this sooner, you might have had to be dragging me back to my house," she said. "How...?"

"It is heated...I believe geothermally, is the word? And a private place in which to bathe is one privilege of being King," he smiled.

"I see," she said, only now realizing that her mood felt much...better. She looked up at him. "Thank you, for all of what you have done for me. I am only beginning to understand how different my life will be, on account of you. There is so much that I could not have imagined," she said soberly.

He did not answer, but instead leaned down to nip at her ear with his teeth while the rumble of some undetermined noise came through his chest. Smiling, she realized that her husband was unfulfilled. It was not difficult to find a solution.

Soon enough, all needs had been cared for, and she found that soft towels were nearby. It was time to dress, and return to her home for breakfast...she was immensely in the mood for biscuits, and the computers would arrive today.

As they walked through the woods, holding hands, she began. "Thranduil..."

He smiled. "You wish to know if my seduction of you was only in your mind, or whether I was with you in body as well?"

"Well, yes."

"What do you think?" he asked, curious.

"I think you were influencing my mind, keeping me asleep and accepting of you, while actually touching my body as well."

"You are correct," he said, "and continue to show that you are very observant."

"But..."she said. "The very first time, I woke up...and you were in my bed with me, yet I did not notice?"

He smiled. "You know the answers. Think."

She sifted everything she'd learned about him. "You can move very fast, and you can make me see only what you wish me to see?"

"Yes."

They walked on for a few minutes.

"Well, my Lord?"

He looked at her, and the very large smirk on her face, with confusion.

"I am becoming used to you knowing my questions before I ask them, husband, so I am waiting for an answer to my question."

His eyes narrowed, because he could in truth not easily detect the thought. But then, just as swiftly, it came through clearly.

 _We should discuss, at some point, whether you will ever wish to see more of the planet than Lasg'len. Because if so, the process of acquiring documentation for you, and any others wishing to function in the outer world, would need to begin. It may not be something that can be accomplished quickly, and may require some...extreme creativity. And along with this, a decision concerning whether you wish our union to be formally acknowledged according to the laws of the land that surrounds us. This would grant you rights, concerning me, that would not otherwise exist. One that might be important to you is the legal right to take possession of my property, should something happen to me._

Thranduil looked at her. He had heard the questions, but was more intrigued by the fact that she seemed to have had control over this, mentally.

"How did you do that?" he asked, intrigued.

She pouted. _It won't be fun anymore, if I tell you_ , she said with her eyes sparkling, waiting for that particular lift of his chin to manifest itself, that would tell that her time for baiting him was at an end.

He did not disappoint, as he drew himself up. It fascinated her, to see his body language transform from quiet and serene, into that of one bearing great power.

Laughing, she squeezed his hand as she bowed her head to him. "I yield, my King. I am afraid I cannot resist teasing you, a little bit. It is a mental practice that I had forgotten about, a kind of meditation in which one practices keeping one's mind free of any thoughts. I was curious to see if it made a difference. Apparently it does."

In the blink of an eye, she found herself tossed high into the air, which brought a shriek of complete surprise as she flailed for something to hold onto. He caught her easily around the waist, twirling her around him as a parent might a small child, smiling. "Teasing me is a dangerous hobby, Earlene," he said, though his eyes were full of love.

"Is it?" she said, saucily, as her hands reached for his pale hair. "I hadn't noticed, my Lord." She was practically daring him to toss her up again, and he knew it. He could also see the battle of wills escalating to someplace better left alone, for now.

"Then I shall have to retract what I said about your powers of observation, meluieg."

Laughing, she conceded that it was an elegant response, and kissed him. He lowered her a little, to sit in his arms. "Do not make me too curious about your thoughts, sweet one. You may have your fun, but you cannot overcome my ability to see inside of you if I choose to try."

She caught the change in his demeanor, and was uncertain if this was more teasing. "Thranduil?" she asked, wishing to understand.

He sighed. "I am partly teasing you, wife. But not fully. I can understand what it feels like, to have your mind laid bare to me. And how you must desire privacy, sometimes. But if you practice hiding from me too often, my response will be to push harder to look. I am capable of injuring you, in this way, and I have no wish to do so. I do not mean this as the threat it must sound like, Earlene. It is no different to me than if somehow found myself struggling to breathe; I would try that much harder to do so. I am responsible for you in many ways, and I rely on my ability to see you fully in order to care for you, when I am already faced with many gaps in my understanding. Ultimately, there is no obstacle you are capable of creating, that can keep me out of your thoughts. I think what I am trying to say is, please do not make a habit of trying to keep your thoughts from me. It will not go well, for either of us. Please?"

"I did not realize, I am sorry. I will do as you ask, I have promised to obey you. But," she said, "thank you, for asking so nicely."

He set her down, and they continued walking. His hand rested loosely on her shoulder. "If I may ask, Thranduil, how do you understand what it feels like? To have your own thoughts exposed to someone, but not the other way around?" The question was asked softly; she genuinely wished to know.

Thranduil did not look at her, as he spoke. "I was the son of the King, once, Earlene. My father held the same powers that I now do, and I was raised under much the same circumstances as those in which you now find yourself. He was very stern, and I endured far more scrutiny than I now impose on you. It is why I told you that I will never hold your thoughts against you, whatever they may be. I was held to task, and I promised myself that I would never do that to another. I will not treat you as I was treated."

Her eyes widened. "I am...so sorry, Thranduil." She did not know what else to say; it sounded like one of the worst forms of mental abuse of which she'd ever heard.

"Elves are expected to be able to have far more mental discipline than what humans would be able to, meluieg. But that being said, what my father did was still...extreme."

They were nearing the house, now. "I have no means by which to relate to what you are telling me, my Lord. I am afraid I cannot view that as anything other than completely awful."

"Then we can agree on that. I hope you will forgive me if I do not wish to dwell on this. It was so long ago, and yet it is still an unpleasant memory."

In response, she put her arm around his waist, pulling herself against him as they walked the final short distance.

 _There is much, in which I am aware I cannot help you. But please know that I will always try, if you will allow it. I love you._ Releasing him, she reached for the doorknob, still feeling angry and...ill, on some level, that anyone could do that to someone else. Having heard only this, she felt glad that her father-in-law more or less existed in another dimension, because she had no desire to meet anyone that had ever treated Thranduil in such a manner. And she wondered, too. _If he did this to his son, what else had he done?_

Her husband's hand on her shoulder stopped her with an iron grip. As she turned to look at him, she saw that his face was stricken, and that he was fighting back tears. Earlene took one look at him and reacted with pure instinct. She took him firmly by the hand and with all the strength of her body, led him to the sofa and made him sit. Without hesitating she straddled him, kneeling, so that she could bring his head against her chest, cradling him against her. He would have had to break one of her bones to free himself from her hold, and her mind filled with thoughts that whatever had befallen him, she loved him. And her anger grew, because it had just become rather obvious that the beautiful elf in her arms had suffered from his parents in ways that no one should.

And under the barrage of her thoughts and emotions, she felt his own break in her embrace. He held her so tightly that it was difficult to breathe as he sobbed, but she said nothing, taking little snatches of air where she could. Tears ran down her own face, in her grief to find this in him, and the knowledge that she had no power to do for him what he'd done for her. She could not reach in and make this, whatever it was, leave his mind. But she could hold him, which was exactly what she did until her arms could no longer support the strength of her grip, and she was forced to loosen it a little. Absentmindedly, her hands stroked the back of his flaxen head and neck. He quieted after some minutes, and she whispered in his ear. "Wait here." She quickly retrieved a clean cloth, and wet it with cool water, returning to him and gently pressing it against his face. He took it from her, wordlessly, squeezing her hand.

 _I would like to make you something to drink, that would comfort you. May I, or would you rather I stay with you?_

He nodded, barely perceptible, so she kissed his forehead and immediately went for her supply of cocoa. She mixed it with sugar, and then the milk, and began to heat it. Very soon it was quite warm, and she want to her pantry. All she'd bought was whisky, but she thought she'd seen something else...and there, beyond hope, was a nearly full bottle of amaretto. Grabbing it without hesitation, she tipped a wildly excessive amount of the liquor into the hot cocoa, waiting another half minute and then turning off the heat. She poured this into a mug, and added some cream to the very top.

"Drink this," she said, very softly, sitting next to him , beginning to rub his back with her hand. It took him a moment, but finally he took a tentative sip, which caused him to open his eyes long enough to look at what was in his cup. She smiled inside, to see that he liked it, and began to enthusiastically down the contents. Even though there was enough just in that one mug to get her roaringly drunk, she knew that he did not have the same limitations. "More?" she asked gently. He nodded, so she took the cup back to refill it.

When she returned, Earlene saw that he watched her now, his features almost returned to normal. He had the look of someone who is trying to find a way to explain something they'd really rather not talk about. She handed him the cup again.

"Thranduil, know that if you wish to tell me anything, I am here to listen and support you with all my love. But if you are not ready or choose not to, I respect that. I have some idea of what it is to carry a heavy emotional burden, though not like the one I fear you do."

His blue eyes were unreadable, save for the flicker of pain that crossed them. "I want to tell you, meluieg. But like you, I need a little more time. That and, it will not be too much longer before Thanadir arrives."

"Then I will make breakfast. If you want more cocoa, please tell me." She reached her hand to his face, caressing his cheek. He leaned into her hand, covering it with his own. The gold of his ring glinted up at her. Patiently, she waited until he released her hand. "If you feel inclined, there is no fire in the wood stove," she smiled. "And if you do not, I will care for it momentarily."

Moving across the room, she went into a flurry of activity to make biscuits. Fortunately she now had her food processor, which reduced the needed time considerably. Looking at what seemed like an entirely inadequate amount of dough for her intentions, she made a second batch, kneading it all into one. _Why are you making this many biscuits, Earlene?_ She had no clear concept at the moment beyond...wanting biscuits. After folding the dough for the last time and patting it down to the right thickness, she looked at the ceiling, staring fixedly for a long moment. _Biscuit sandwiches_ , she thought triumphantly, looking for her biscuit cutter. Soon a hefty array of large biscuits was baking, while she furiously scrambled eggs, dug out the ham slices she was sure were somewhere, and found cheese.

When the timer went off for the biscuits, she spun on the ball of her foot to check them and crashed into Thranduil, who had somehow been standing behind her. _How did he do that?_

He seemed genuinely amused. "When you were staring at the ceiling, perhaps," he teased. The light had returned to his eyes.

She refused to back down. "The ceiling has told me a great many things, over the years. You should try listening to it, sometime. At the very least, you owe it your breakfast. My Lord."

Smiling, she now retrieved her potholders and removed the golden biscuits, leaving them to cool on the counter. "Do you want more cocoa, Thranduil?" she asked, turning her full attention to him now.

"No, thank you. Though whatever you put in it has created the beginnings of a more pleasant state of mind, which I am sure was your intention."

"Amaretto. Almond liquer. I like it quite a bit. Did you?"

"May I try some by itself?"

She pointed at the shot glass she could not reach, which he handed her. Filling it, she reasoned that for him, if a little was good a lot might be better. Her eyebrows raised and she stifled a smile, when she saw out of the corner of her eye that he tipped all of it back in one swallow.

"It is good, but very...melui," he smiled.

She paused in her ham slicing to work out what that meant and... _duh_ , she thought, flushing faintly to have not understood right away.

He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against him as she assembled the sandwiches. Which is perhaps why she became aware of him hardening behind her, and his hands caressing her over her skirts.

 _Please_ , she heard from him.

She did not know entirely what to do. While she was in principle willing to welcome him, the combination of her hands being full of egg and cheese bits and the imminent arrival of Thanadir both left her mind in a somewhat indecisive state, though the rest of her already wanted him. The rest of her _always_ wanted him.

 _He is still far enough away, and you will not need your hands. Please?_ he asked a second time, almost begging.

 _Of course, my Lord._

She felt his hands go up underneath her skirts, and simply tug her undergarment to one side. In an instant he had himself free, and with a groan of need she felt him enter her from behind. Slightly wide eyed, she tried to take in this new experience. His hand came around to pleasingly touch and rub her as the movements of his body pressed her down against the counter. Very quickly, she was helpless and glassy-eyed in the throes of her own lust, because nothing had ever felt quite this good. He was taking her very hard, and it was _wonderful_. She remembered that this same passion had hurt her, not long ago at all, but that was no longer the case. In her mind she begged him for more, to bring her to climax. More heat flared within her, when she thought she could stand no more. With a ragged cry he released himself into her as she writhed against him, insensible in her own bliss. When it was over, her eyes opened to take in that she had just had what was perhaps her strongest orgasm yet, with her head flat on a countertop whilst staring down a tray of biscuits.

If nothing else, she had to wash her hands and make a break for the bathroom...she could not live with herself if Thanadir saw even a hint of a trace of what they'd just done.

 _Go ahead, meluieg,_ she heard with a chuckle.

She fled the scene, leaving Thranduil to insouciantly lace up his breeches with a much calmer demeanor. A few minutes later, she had cared for everything from her disheveled hair to her displaced undergarments. Though, she could not do much about the pink flush still on her cheeks, or the vaguely dazed expression she still wore.

"Did Thanadir ever have a wife, my Lord?"

"No, he did not."

 _Then there is some hope he won't take one look at me, to figure out that biscuits aren't the only thing I've been cooking._

Thranduil thought this was uproariously funny, and laughed loudly and musically, embracing her again from behind. Ordinarily she might have ordered him back to the sofa, but not this morning. His restored mood was worth far more than the scandalization of her food preparation. She returned the finished biscuit creations to the yet warm oven, so they would remain heated, and realized to her chagrin that she'd forgotten to heat water for tea. Except, he reached the kettle before she could, and held it high overhead to tease her. She jumped up to try to reach it, and saw that it would be no good.

 _If you were not my King I would climb you like a ladder_ , she mock scowled at him. _Have it your own way, my Lord, but you are depriving poor Thanandir of his tea._

"This I have to see, Earlene. You have my permission."

"I what? I mean, I what, my Lord?" She covered her face with her hands. Flustered, she'd just made no sense even to herself.

"Climb me like a ladder, Earlene. This I want to see." He smiled, with his eyes sparkling. When she did not move and stood there with her mouth half open, he pressed further. "Do I need to command you to do this, meluieg?" He was enjoying himself immensely.

Her face transformed in indignation, as she reached down to strip off her boots and socks. With her feet now bare, she leaped up toward his shoulders, gripping the outside of his body very hard with the instep of her feet, pushing herself up onto her hands, so that she could get yet another purchase with her feet at his waist. Steadying herself on his arm, she reached up to take hold of the kettle, with him laughing all the while, refusing to release the kettle handle.

At that moment, Thanadir came within sight of the kitchen, unprepared for the horror that greeted his vision. The new Queen was actually climbing on his Majesty who...Thanadir's face suddenly relaxed as he saw that the King was smiling, and laughing. In a moment of poignance, he realized that in all the long years he had served his friend, he had never seen this kind of pure happiness written on his ruler's face. For once, it did not matter that the sight greeting his eyes was hopelessly unseemly. The ancient elf smiled in a way not seen in millennia as he looked on, seeing that their game had ended and that the King was gently lowering his wife back to the ground. Shaking his head slightly in amusement, he allowed his features to fall back into their usual neutral position before closing the rest of the distance to the house.

Thranduil refilled the kettle and set it on the burner while Earlene replaced her socks and boots. When she rose, he took both of her hands, looking at her intently. "Earlene...thank you." The words were filled with deep emotion, and she understood. Looking down at his hands, her thumb caressed the ring he now wore before she lifted her eyes to his.

"I will love you, Thranduil. All of you." Short of a grandiose speech it was as much reassurance as she could offer to tell him that whatever troubled his spirit, she would stand by him, just as he had done for her. He nodded, with bottomless gratitude written on his features, before releasing her hands.

"Then I will greet my seneschal, who is no doubt hungry," he smiled.

When the meal was concluded, she felt glad of how much extra food had been made, because she apparently had developed quite an appetite. And, so had had they, given the devastation to the numbers that once filled the tray; only a few forlorn biscuits remained. All of them were stuffed and had little desire to move, as they slowly sipped their tea without speaking.

Earlene was the first to break their silence. "My King, the new computers should be delivered today before midday, and I will with your consent go to town for some groceries which are nearly gone."

With humor, he looked up at her. "And a visit to the pub also, Earlene?"

She smiled, blushing a little. "There exists a strong possibility of that, yes. I should also ask if you have reached a decision concerning the produce order from the grocer's? Do I pursue this, or wait?"

Thranduil turned to Thanadir and began to speak rapidly to him. After a minute of their exchange, they both looked at her. "Thanadir feels that within the week, the need will exist for such food. You may pursue securing a purchase, if you are able."

"Do you both wish to supply me with a total volume, or do I take my best guess as to your needs?"

They ellyn both exchanged more words.

"Between twelve hundred and fifteen hundred pounds of assorted greens and root vegetables, this time. Then we will evaluate prior to the next order. Which brings me to some other matters. You asked me earlier about the idea of documentation, whether I would ever wish to leave here, and whether we should formalize our union in the world of men. The answer to all of those things is 'yes.' And the same should be done for Thanadir, if possible. I am trusting fully in your discretion and professional skills, for this. The second matter is, the acquisition of the currency of your world. I cannot have you being financially responsible for all of my people."

Her brows knitted together, and she sighed. "I will begin working on what you ask. You must realize though, there are many things about this that are not simple. If you have time, it may be best for me to outline some of this, to both of you."

With Thranduil's consent, the dishes were pushed aside, and Earlene retrieved her laptop and notepads. She guessed that at least Thanadir would wish to take notes.

Next followed Earlene narrating a complex list of points, while simultaneously flitting between a great many websites from which she sought information. In the pauses, Thranduil translated for Thanadir, who scribbled furiously. Their lack of birth certificates, citizenship, their lack of established identity, the difficulties of securing passports, bank accounts, a financial presence, marrying legally with Earlene not being an Irish citizen, and a very long list of other matters great and small were indicated.

"I will make careful inquiries, but...there is a strong possibility that in order to have this be possible, the laws must be violated. There is simply no direct means by which to discreetly establish ordinary documentation for elves who have lived for millennia hidden in a tract of forest. I am very much afraid that the only way to manage will be to have identities forged and created for both of you, though there is some small risk of being caught. Yet until those papers can be established, and some suitable story concocted, we can accomplish nothing. We will likely either need to latch onto information for two babies that died thirty to thirty-five years ago, and steal their identities. To human eyes, that is how old both of you appear. Or, we need to outright forge birth certificates for both of you, and hope we manage to get away with it." She frowned. "Alternatively, we need to locate a solicitor that is willing to serve...specific unlawful needs, for a price. And frankly, I have a feeling that the good citizens of Lasg'len might be able to help you in this, more than you know. It will all take time. But there is not cause for concern. If you wish you may reimburse me, Thranduil, later on. I am established with access to financial systems, and have more than adequate resources to provide for all of the elves' needs, for quite some time. My future is bound to you and your people; please accept what I can do for you as a necessary convenience, in the short term."

Thranduil looked at her, and felt like his head was reeling. He'd no idea, of the intricacy of the outside world. Apparently the days when a single gem evaporated just about any manner of difficulty were long past. But as he looked on her, he realized that he had chosen wisely.

"Just as you have placed profound trust in me, Earlene, I must now do the same for you. I thank you for your detailed explanations. Much of this, I will have to leave in your hands. I do accept what you propose; it is the most sensible course of action, for now. I think you already know, I will never allow you to lack for anything ."

"I do know, my Lord. But, there is another thing. I will do what you have tasked me to accomplish, but you have something I do not. You can see into the hearts and minds of others. And for what we have to navigate to meet these goals, that is perhaps the most valuable asset we could possess. I need to ask you, what was your perception of Lorna? Is she an honest person, someone of whom I could begin to ask questions? Choosing who can be trusted will be the most important part of all of this. And for that, I would be foolish not to have you at my side. While I do not like to deceive others, all of your people are at risk, and it only takes one poor choice to cause something like this to fail. Your powers are unknown, and therefore a tremendous advantage."

"Lorna has an honest heart, meluieg. Though, she thought much of a difficult past, marred by terrible experiences. She carries a great deal of pain, but is very strong on account of it. I believe you would be safe, in speaking with her."

"Thranduil, is it possible for you to not hear a human? To choose to look away? Or is it like being next to someone who is speaking, to where you cannot...not...hear the thoughts? I do not know how you experience this."

He looked at her, trying to choose words that would make sense to her. "It is something of both, meluieg. Strong, well-formed thoughts are as discernible to me as your audible words, and unavoidable to me. But I can also choose to look far deeper, to seek out what is beneath the surface. Obviously, this requires more effort from me."

Earlene nodded. On some level, it made her queasy. She doubted that it would be appreciated by Lorna, that her thoughts were an open book to Thranduil. That everyone's thoughts were an open book to Thranduil. But what was to be done? He could not help what he was, that this was a sensory ability of his. What bothered her was that she'd agreed to live with him, knowing that he could do this, and they had not. Then again, maybe what was needed was for them to have the chance to make their own decision, just as she had...she squeezed her eyes as the 'what ifs' and the 'maybes' began to pile up in her mind.

Just then the doorbell rang, and Earlene rose up to answer it. She returned moments later with two large boxes. "Stupid packaging," she muttered, placing them on the sofa.

It seemed their meeting was concluded, and she began to clean up from breakfast.

Thranduil insisted on doing the dishes, which caused Thanadir to insist on doing the dishes.

 _These two_ , Earlene thought, as she found a knife and began to extract the computers.

"Your Excellency Thanadir?" she asked softly.

Surprised, the elf looked up at her.

"Can you read English letters?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, Earlene."

"Le hannon," she said. She would set up both computers at the same time, then. Fortunately, she'd had the brains to order an extra power strip for all of this, and soon the kitchen counter looked like a small computer bank. Once they were connected to a power source, she took care of creating simple passwords, wifi setup, security, and all the rest. And because they were new, she set up full controls to keep them from accidentally ending up on harmful websites. Or otherwise doing anything, by which they could unwittingly invite disaster. When they learned more, they could make changes as they wished. Somewhere in the middle of this, she sent Lorna an email, that she'd be at the pub that afternoon. Just in case. She really would like to see her again and...on a feminine level, Earlene wanted to tell at least one person of their marriage. However odd it was, to her it was a happiness she felt almost bursting to share.

With the dishes washed, she invited them to sit once again, and began to explain much as she had previously. She went slowly, demonstrating, while Thranduil translated and Thanadir made copious notes. She directed them most to the Internet, choosing to show Thanadir one of the Sindarin/English websites. It seemed like a given that every elf could learn quickly, so perhaps the same information she was using could help him learn English faster?

His eyes lit up, when he realized what he was seeing and how it could be used.

 _He will probably be reciting poetry in a week_ , she thought enviously, _while I am still trying to remember how to conjugate a verb._

Under Thranduil's command, they ate the rest of the breakfast biscuits for lunch, supplemented with fresh fruit and tea. He felt like she cooked quite enough. But, it did not stop her from needing to prepare tonight's pot roast prior to her trip into town. Soon enough the meat had been browned, liquid and vegetables added, and dry ingredients for a traditional brown bread were mixed and left to sit. And then she thought about cake. Rolling her eyes, she smiled. He might have made her period go away, but he hadn't done a thing about her tendency to want to eat every carbohydrate in sight during the allotted hormonal time frame.

His head snapped up to look at her, grinning.

 _You don't really want me to cure that, do you?_ he asked, his eyes sparkling.

Grinning, she looked down. _No, I do not._ She mixed the dry ingredients for a spiced apple cake; there could be a vanilla sauce.

With the roast in a very slow oven, she soon had changed her clothes, and chastely kissed her husband goodbye. The two ellyn were completely locked into their respective screens, she noted with no small amusement. Feeling content, she retrieved her bicycle and rode off to Lasg'len.


	16. Chapter 16

When Earlene stepped into the grocer's, she smiled to see that two other local women were hunkered at the register, deep in murmured gossip with Aislinn, whose changing face spoke of having just heard a particularly juicy tidbit. Stifling a laugh, she merely gave a good natured wave of her hand, as she quickly slipped down to the dairy case. It was the furthest from where the chitchat was underway, which meant it was also the safest location by which she might avoid any accidental faux pas. And soon she legitimately was mentally occupied, wanting to make certain that she found all the items on her list. She'd be stopping too, at the liquor store. Clearly, it took staggering amounts of anything to give Thranduil a medicinal effect, and she was all too likely to become the shop owner's new favorite customer. On the up side, it would become completely obvious that she embraced drinking at home, which in this culture could only lead to greater acceptance, she mused.

By the time she made it to the front, the exchange of news had clearly wound down and Earlene guessed, correctly, that the two other women had lingered in order to have an excuse to meet her. With a maternal air of joviality, Aislinn introduced them as Mary and Chloe, wives of Ian and another who she'd not yet met. They fussed and offered friendly words of greeting while looking her up and down, which Earlene found endearing. Their curiosity was understandable, and by now she must be practically the talk of the town. _How often did someone move in from New York and hook up with the local elf-King?_ she smiled to herself. Eyes unmistakably darted to what of her necklace could be seen, and eyes equally unmistakably took in the wedding band on her finger, though no comment was made. Soon enough, they had satisfied the initial wave of their curiosity, and cheerfully moved along. As Aislinn rang up her purchases, Earlene grinned to see Mary and Chloe chattering back and forth with such vigor, that she wondered if they were remembering to breathe.

When she was at the point of payment, she took a deep breath. _Here goes_ , she thought.

"Aislinn, I wondered if you'd heard any more news on the cabbages?"

Smiling brightly, Aislinn shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss," she said with regret that was made to sound sincere. "These things always take a bit'v time."

Earlene kept her face completely pleasant.

"Oh, dear. I can imagine how difficult that might be. You see, I've taken on an odd job of sorts, to purchase fresh foods for quite a few people. And right off, I'm going to need a delivery of fifteen hundred pounds of assorted produce to my property. It will be more inconvenient, but I guess I'll have to look to one of the larger wholesalers outside of this immediate area. It's a pity, too, the buyer is willing to pay a two and a half percent commission. But, I do understand. No one realizes, how tough it is to run a small business, do they? At home in the states, the deck was always stacked against the little guy. I've always thought it was a crying shame, people such as yourself working so hard, just to get by." Earlene shook her head and sighed, looking for all the world like she felt the weight of economic injustice on her shoulders.

As Earlene suddenly became fascinated at nothing in particular out on the street, Aislinn's eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly as she did some quick mental calculations.

Aislinn cleared her throat, which caused Earlene to look back over at her, as though her reverie had just been broken.

"You know, miss, it would be wrong of me to not do more to help out a neighbor, especially with you being new here and all. You see, it's that Michael, over at the farm distributor's. He's too into his drink, and if there ever was a slower man to answer a simple question, it'd be him. But it just so happens that I go back with his wife Sarah quite a ways, and I do believe I could make a phone call on your behalf."

"Oh, could you? That would be such a relief for me," Earlene said effusively. "It just so happens that I have the list of what is wanted, with all of my contact information, right here. Substitutions are permissible, as long as the vegetables have good storage properties and the prices are at fair market value. I will gladly pay in advance for the first transaction as soon as you can notify me, but would appreciate terms of net thirty for future purchases. If, that is, the buyer is satisfied. I'm sure you understand, with banking being what it is, that a little time to settle invoices is much appreciated."

Aislinn beamed at the more than agreeable proposal. "When would you wish this scheduled, miss?"

Laughing, Earlene said "Please, I'm Earlene to everyone here. And, anytime between three to six days hence would be ideal, though they do need to ring or email me before they come, so I can ensure I'm home. If it wouldn't be trouble, note to the delivery driver that these will be offloaded into the storage area of my barn."

Smiling broadly, Earlene laid her hand briefly over Aislinn's, after she had busily jotted down a few notes. "Truly, you are a treasure. I just don't know what kind of trouble I'd have had, without you. I cannot thank you enough," she said with a sincere smile. With a wave, Earlene departed, keeping the smirk she felt inside from revealing itself.

At the liquor store, she tried to think. He had liked the amaretto, but hinted it was sweet...but liquers were not meant to be consumed alone, really. In order to not appear to be a complete alcoholic, she chose only four bottles; in New York she kept an extensive liquor cabinet more for cooking that straight-up drinking. But either way, it was handy to have on hand. And finally, she had everything stowed and headed happily for the Spotted Dick, in a fine humor.

While she waited for her eyes to adjust, she enthusiastically greeted John and ordered a pint, before turning to see who else was about. To her delight, she saw Lorna in the back, at a low table, and went to join her.

"I'm so glad you could make it, Lorna," Earlene gushed, seating herself while speaking very softly. "How is it at the mechanic?"

"We had two tractors in," Lorna said, eying Earlene. She wasn't surprised to find the woman looked completely healthy, with no lingering sign at all that she'd had alcohol poisoning. "Mick's been trying to do things one-handed, but he says he's glad I'm little enough to get under a tractor without having to hoist it up. He also dropped a bloody wrench on my head," she added, scowling as she rubbed her temple. "I told him if he sent me home with brain damage, my sister'd kill him." Her gaze zeroed in on Earlene's right hand, and her eyebrows rose. "You've got some new jewelry there."

Earlene smiled, as a look of pure happiness came over her face. "I know this is going to sound nuts, because, well, most things having to do with elves sound nuts until you get to know about them somewhat. It turns out that at least from the elf point of view, he and I are married. And though it makes me sound like a teenager with a bad case of puppy love, I'm thrilled. I'll tell you the long version, but only if you want; and no offense taken if you don't. Actually, I still feel kind of bad about the mental whammy you must have had, with seeing him. I truly did not realize that you hadn't understood...what he is. Though, why I'd think you did realize...I'm not sure about that either." She shook her head. "If my parents could see me now...you've no idea," she said, laughing."And I'm sorry about the wrench. One time working at gran's farm I dropped a t-post driver on my head. It's basically good that no one was around, because every time I've ever had something whack me on the head hard enough, I cry like a two year old. It's more than a little embarrassing, but dammit, it hurts."

 _Married_...well, at least Earlene was happy about it. Lorna probably would have shanked somebody if a bomb like that got dropped on her, but she was glad Earlene was pleased. Although...why the hell hadn't Thranduil told her that from the outset? Lorna definitely needed the long version, or she might have to get annoyed. "It's not your fault I didn't believe what he was," she said, with a slightly crooked smile. "Ian and Mick tried to tell me, but I thought they were both full'v shite. If I can't see it, I don't believe in it - or didn't, anyway. You've got to tell me the long story, because I'll not get my head around that otherwise." She took a long draw off her mug, and winced. "Christ, you're lucky you didn't crack your skull with something like that. Head injuries do hurt like a bastard, even when they don't bleed." Hers had, and scared the shit out of Mick, but no harm really done.

Earlene took a very healthy swig of Guinness while gathering her thoughts. In her excitement to share some good news with a female friend, she'd forgotten about all the things that frankly wouldn't sound so good, to an outsider. She did not want Thranduil made to look bad...nor herself, either. Now, to find a way to tell a truthful story that didn't turn what she'd meant to be happy news into a minefield.

"Yeah, you can keep head injuries, all these years later and I've still refused to pick up another one of those tools." She paused a moment. "You'll have to bear with me, on the marriage part, because frankly there are things about it that I don't know myself. Getting involved with Thranduil was sort of like a decision to go on a thrill ride. For me it was impulsive, done on intuition, and something that I wanted worse than anything. Whether that was good or bad, I don't know, but I did it with my eyes wide open."

She frowned, trying to choose the right words. "Thranduil is old. I mean, damn-near-forever old. I don't have a number, and I'm not sure I want one. He was born into a world with some fairly defined laws and rules. Elves loved and married once, and he had a wife. And a son. She left him, what sounds like about a million years ago, to travel to another...place that elves go. He was a King with a job to do, but she wanted something else. More years went by than anyone could count. Usually, when elves have married, they can't want another partner; it's just how it is. But there is also apparently a way for...I don't want to call it getting a divorce, but apparently one of them can decide that the marriage is over because they've basically given up on each other; they've been apart too long, with no end in sight. When he and I came together, he told me he had a wife he hadn't seen in thousands of years. Maybe it makes me a rotten person, but I couldn't care about that. He wanted me, and sure God I wanted him. Apparently the fact that he was able to want me should have told him something...but he overlooked it.

By their laws, they marry by going to bed together. Which meant that the first time we...did that, we'd tied the knot. Pretty much right after you left my house the other day, for whatever reason, the lightbulb finally went off for him, and he put it all together. And then he told me. I'm not sorry, because there wasn't ever going to be anyone else. He warned me, that if I took him on, I'd not ever want another. And I believe it; being with him isn't like being with a...human man. For me, this is...amazing. I know it wouldn't be everyone's idea of a picnic, and plenty would say I'm out of my tree. That doesn't matter to me; I love him, and he's more than anything I ever could have dreamed of. Who the hell finds themselves in a fairy tale, and it's real?" Grinning once again, she looked up at Lorna. "So that's the novel-length version, as best I can manage it."

That...was one hell of a lot to take in, and for a moment Lorna didn't know what to say. She'd had some rather terrible suspicions since she'd left Earlene the other day, and she wasn't quite sure where this fit in with them.

Earlene was a high-powered, hotshot corporate attorney. Such people did not, usually, tend to be impulsive. She'd been here even less time than Lorna, had gotten involved with (and fallen in love with) an Elf seemingly right off the bat...something just didn't sit right. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Thranduil genuinely cared about her, so whatever had precipitated it, it seemed to be turning out well, but… But. Clearly Elves had some kind of magical powers (and even now Lorna could barely stomach that thought; yeah, she'd witnessed it, but it was still hard to come to terms with). The question, the one she wasn't going to actually ask Earlene, was could Thranduil screw with people's minds? How open had her eyes truly been? Call Lorna paranoid; call her a cynic (she would admit to being both), but the true fairytales were the ones with teeth, and she suspected this one did too- or had, at first.

She was hardly going to judge Earlene for jumping into bed with a bloke who was married - not if his wife had been gone God only knew how long. But just...Christ. She was going to have to find a way to talk to Thranduil, much as she really didn't want to. He was, insofar as she could tell, a good person, but he gave her the creeps simply because he wasn't human. If he'd mind-whammie'd Earlene before, he didn't seem to be doing so anymore, but for the sake of the villagers...it wasn't like Lorna could stop him if he did, but she wanted to make sure he wasn't going to. She was also, for Earlene's sake, going to put together a 'How to be Married to a Human' guide, because sheer logic stated he wasn't going to have much idea how to handle having a human wife. Cynic though she was, she wanted to believe he had good intentions. There was enough of an optimist left in her for that.

But she had to say something - something encouraging, because she truly didn't want to hurt Earlene. "So long as he treats you well, I'm glad for you. When you find the one you know'll be the only one...it's like nothing else. You're already happy, and I think you'll stay that way. Not gonna lie, I think he's a bit creepy, but he obviously loves you." She'd forgive him quite a bit for that. He wasn't just using Earlene; of that, Lorna was quite sure. And he was immortal - Earlene wouldn't ever lose him. There's more than something to be said for that, she thought, running her thumb over her own ring. It was old and dinged, with only a trace of actual gold in it, but she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Earlene laughed. "It's funny, that. You can think he's creepy; I don't mind. Maybe that doesn't register for me because….well, I saw creepy, New York City style, and compared to that he can't hold a candle. He is beautiful to my eyes, but, lust and love are strange things. If we all didn't want something a bit different, the world would hardly work out, would it?"

Lorna smiled, though wryly. "True. If we all just wanted one thing, hardly anybody'd get married."

Earlene took another fairly large swig of the beer. Or at least, large by her standards. She lowered her voice enough that there was no possibility anyone else could hear her speak.

"Lorna, I need to ask a very awkward question. If it's unwelcome, forget I said anything, and no offense will ever be taken. You're the only one I feel I can trust. I have to figure out a way to get something accomplished, and it's more than a little outside my zone of experience. Thranduil and I would like to have our marriage be legal in Ireland, someday. Not to mention, him being able to ever have something like a bank account or even a credit card. To even start down that road, he needs an identity, maybe later a PPSN. As does Thanadir, who serves him. If I weren't too picky about whether or not it was done strictly according to law, might you have any ideas on that? The important thing is that it be done in a way that won't have it all blow up later; it needs to get into the right computer systems and whatnot. I can pay, whatever it would take; I just don't particularly want to end up arrested. I think you can see my problem; I can't exactly take them out to the Civil Registration Service, smile, and ask for a birth certificate, without starting a new season of the X-Files. And yet, they are what you might call the original citizens, here. It wouldn't be fraud so much as...evasive. I have to be very careful, with this."

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, pensive. "I might know someone who can help you, if I can get ahold of her. If she's not still in business, she'll know someone who is, but it really will be bloody expensive, especially with multiple identities. Twenty years ago it wouldn't've been nearly so hard, but now, with all the computer databases, you definitely need a professional." She sipped her lager. "This might sound like a weird question, but do Elves actually have fingerprints? There was talk years ago'v requiring them for passports, though I don't know if anything ever came'v it. Then again, I think traveling might be a bit much for either'v them yet. This village isn't nearly preparation enough for the outside world." If nothing else, prison had left her with a number of useful contacts, provided you weren't picky about silly things like legality.

"Do you know, this just chalks up to one more ridiculous thing he and I don't know about each other? I had to deal earlier on with realizing the man had married me without understanding that I had more of a name than 'Earlene.' 'Earlene Rhian Sullivan,' I had to explain. It's all been kind of arse-backwards, Lorna, but for me it is something to laugh about. I don't know if you can understand being fed up with having lived too responsibly for too long...I should have gotten dumb stuff out of the way when I was younger, and never did. Anyway. I'll find out about the fingerprints; it costs what it costs. And don't worry, those two need considerably more educating on a lot of things, before they are ready to go anywhere." She emphatically swigged her beer, feeling happier all the while. "But the good news is, they're fiercely smart, and now they've each got their own computers to learn with, god help me."

Earlene now swallowed mightily, finishing her drink. "I know it's technically your turn here for a round, Lorna, but I hope you'll let me count what you brought to my house against it and let my buy. Your help alone is worth about a month of rounds, to me." Not really waiting for an answer, she stood quickly and marched off to the bar, bringing back more and plunking the beers down on their table.

Lorna let her buy, figuring it couldn't hurt. "I can't say I know what that feels like, no," she said, fighting a laugh and losing. "I was a hellion'v a teenager. My juvenile offender list's probably as long as I am tall." Not that that was exactly saying much, but still. "Thranduil'll be needing a surname on his documents, so it might as well be yours, right? As to computers…'God help you' is about right. I didn't use the internet until I was twenty-eight years old, and sure God wasn't I confused, but at least I've lived in the modern world. The Elves...you might consider getting them a tutor, if you can find anyone in the village who's actually tech-savvy, so you don't have to do it all yourself." Lorna bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep a straight face. "Just don't let them see UrbanDictionary yet."

Earlene thought about it, chuckling at Lorna's comment, if only because she imagined Thanadir encountering a great deal that would be beyond _unseemly_. "You know, that's a really decent idea; maybe once people settle to the idea of them a bit more. I at least had the brains to set up parental controls, so that they couldn't accidentally download fifty viruses by the time I returned home this afternoon. I'll see how it goes, the first few days. They are like sponges...and what goes in, doesn't come out. I put Thanadir on a website that tells how to learn their elven language, so I'll guess that in two days he'll have half perfect English by default. I didn't mention this earlier, because I'm still working past half the craziness myself, but...you know those Lord of the Rings books? And movies? Elves? Well it's those elves, though don't bloody ask me how." Earlene shook her head. "How Twilight Zone do you think it was, to rent those movies to learn something about Thranduil's world from long ago, and he's telling me that the battle in the opening scene is where his father was killed? There are thousands of websites about those books and…" Earlene covered her mouth with her hands as she stifled a groan. "Sure god, I just realized, if anything were ever to get out about them, it wouldn't be the government we'd have to worry about; it would be the Tolkien fans. Some of them are totally obsessed nutters, and they'd flatten this place, to try and catch sight of a living elf." She sighed, her eyes wide with trepidation. "I don't have enough alcohol for this, at home. I really don't. Even though I just bought more."

Lorna burst out laughing, choking on her lager. "Viruses or porn," she said, coughing. "I don't want to imagine what an Elf'd make'v that." She wiped her front with a napkin, but there was nothing for it - this shirt was going in the wash as soon as she got home. "My mam, she read me The Hobbit as a kid, and I read it to my nieces and nephews, but I've not seen the movies yet. I can't handle spiders." The scene with the spiders in Mirkwood in the book had given her enough nightmares, thanks so much. "If his name's in the books, he might want to think about a pseudonym for a legal name, just to be safe from the Tolkien fans. How in bloody hell d'you think Tolkien knew about all that, if it's actually real?"

"Right now I believe in UFOs and aliens, after having had all this happen. I wish I could even guess, how the writer knew. They elves have their own deities, not at all what the ones here are. Who knows, maybe on some level that professor saw the divine lights and heard voices, and wrote it all down. I'll never know or understand, and I'm pretty sure he died years ago. I think for me there is just going to have to come a point with this where I don't let myself try to keep figuring that out any longer. I have to just move forward with what I've got, or I really will end up in the psych ward. And, you're right, there is no way he can be 'Thranduil', at least on paper. Don't suppose you've got a line on an Irish name that's a little like it? His name means 'vigorous spring,' like, the season of springtime. He's got me learning their language."

"It'd be easy to lose it, faced with something like this," Lorna said, thoughtful. "I don't know'v any names meaning 'spring', but Fionn, or the Anglicized Finn, that'd not be a bad one. Means 'fair-headed', and Fionn MacCool's an Irish myth - a leader'v a band'v warriors, known for being brave and wise. And it's not like some'v the weird shit you find nowadays. It won't make him stand out on a list or anything like that."

"Fionn...honestly that is a wonderful choice. Fionn. Read a historical fiction about him, somewhere along the line...it's a name that would suit Thranduil well. And Thanadir...that's an odd one to be sure, but so are lots of the names out there..but the whole idea is to not raise an eyebrow. I'll have to talk to them, and get them settled on something they can live with." She snorted. "Elves. Ok tell me something else entertaining Mick did. Did he at least get the tractor running again? And where is he, anyway? Thought it'd be about time to knock off, for him."

Earlene noticed that a far larger amount of the locals were starting to filter in, including Ian, who raised his cap to her from across the room as she raised her glass to him.

Ian drifted over with his glass in hand, to have a word, smiling ear to ear. "I've just come from your place, Earlene, dropping off more firewood. Your man came out to help, and so did another of his folk I'd not yet met. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought the two of them were on a lover's spat about who should stack the wood. Forgive me for saying so, but 'twas more than a bit'v fun to watch."

Earlene could not stifle a huge smirk. "Ian, there is nothing to forgive, because I can picture that better than you can possibly imagine. You saw Thanadir; that would be Thranduil's right hand man, for lack of better words. He is a wonderful soul but a bit...preoccupied with propriety." She continued to chuckle at the thought of the scene.

"I couldn't help but notice either, miss, that your man is wearing something new on his hand." He took in Earlene's band as well, grinning. "I wish you both happiness, though you'll pardon me if I'm telling it to you first. I wasn't feeling quite brave enough to say it to him, what with the little quarrel and all."

Earlene sincerely thanked him, but with one request. "Have a little pity on me, though, and tell the whole pub after I leave?" she pleaded, her eyes sparkling with good humor. He nodded, grinning, before returning to his mates. Apologetically, Earlene returned her attention to Lorna, who had a peculiar gleam to her smile.

"He did get it fixed, eventually," Lorna said. "Mind you, he smacked himself in the face with his cast first. He ought to be here sooner or later, once he's regained his pride." She raised her mug in greeting to Ian, and promptly choked on her lager at his words. The mental image of Thranduil and Thanadir bickering over a wood pile was almost more than she could handle. At least the pair of them were willing to make themselves useful in practical ways.

Earlene tipped down most of her second drink, after Ian walked away. "I needed that swallow just to help keep the smirk off my face once I get back home," she sighed. "I've got a real soft spot for Thanadir. Back in New York, there was a bailiff, I don't know what they call them here...basically, the police officer guy that stands about like he's got a broomstick up his arse, making sure no one mouths off to the judge or does anything else inappropriate in the courtroom. Nothing made him happier than to nit pick every damn rule, and he drove most of my peers to drink. In fact, I'd wager several bars in Manhattan owed some of their nightly tab to that man. But in a way, he was also cute. It took me some years, but one day I had a long talk with him out in the hallway. And that was when I came to realize, he wasn't doing it to be an ass. It was just genuinely how he was, he couldn't help himself. He took so much pride in his job, he truly felt that it was how it all needed to be. And after that, I felt like I sort of liked the guy. Thanadir just...totally reminds me of him. And I suppose I'd better be shoving off pretty soon, don't want to burn my dinner. Christ, I've got ten minutes on my oven timer," she said, fishing her phone out of her pocket and glancing down at it. With a last swallow, she apologized to Lorna. "I'm sorry to dash off, Lorna. One of these days I'll get in here without a food curfew."

"At least you can cook," Lorna said, laughing a little. "Come back when you've got the time." She already had an idea stewing in her head, one which she'd relay to everyone else who passed through the pub. Thranduil and Earlene might not have had anything like a proper wedding, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a reception. And Irish receptions were...interesting. At the very least, the pair of them would likely wind up entertained, if also rather confused.

Earlene's cheeks were flushed from the effort of riding home faster than usual, as she felt a little chagrin. She was only a few minutes past the oven timer on her phone, but still...as she breathlessly clattered into the barn and leaned back against her pedals as she screeched to a halt, she realized to her horror that she'd forgotten to loosen her toe clips. For a moment she balanced as she tried to tug free, cursing herself that she'd tightened them down so hard. But of course she'd tightened them down so hard; she wanted to be able to make top speed coming home. _Of all the goddamn stupid_...with one last attempt at jerking her foot out, she resigned herself. She was about to suffer the ultimate toe clip newbie indignity of crashing over on her side, when she felt herself held securely in her husband's arms.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she was only able to think _Youjustsavedmeandtheroastmightbeburningberightback_ , as she reached down to free the straps and sprinted for the house. To her intense relief, the meat was fine, and she added just a little more water before racing back outside. Vaguely, she marveled that Thanadir had not once looked up. However, she did not see the old elf smile with amusement, once she had flown out of the room. Back at the barn, now thoroughly winded, she embraced Thranduil after looking up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry about that, and thank you; at the very least you spared me a few bruises by keeping me from falling."

His eyes were twinkling with mirth as he took in her face that was dewy with perspiration and her bright red cheeks. She looked utterly appealing, but he'd already promised himself he'd behave at least until bedtime. With a sigh, he contented himself with one long kiss from her deliciously heated lips. Smiling saucily, she began handing him groceries, starting with the liquor bottles.

"Since you can already see that my visit to town went well, how did you fare with the Internet, my Lord?"

His eyes narrowed, though he smiled. "I will be happy to tell you that, wife, right after you explain to me why you bound your feet to this...bicycle...and almost fell over."

"You were supposed to forget about that," she laughed. The foot straps allow much more of the rider's energy to be translated into momentum, thereby increasing efficiency. I was supposed to loosen them before arriving at my destination, and, well, you saw how that worked out."

Thranduil chuckled, longing to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes, but his hands were full. "Regarding the computers, I can see I have much to learn, meluieg, yet the devices are marvelous. We both thank you; it is obvious that we will learn quickly with such help."

Earlene laughed. "You are welcome. Though, I think the next lesson is going to be, how not to use the Internet. Regrettably, the Information Highway has many dead ends and potholes...not all of what you will find out there is true or useful, and it will help if you are shown how to identify legitimate sources of knowledge versus...the other. And some of it, I'm afraid, would permanently ruin poor Thanadir's sensibilities." Earlene grinned. "So how did the firewood go? Ian sends his sincere wishes for our wedded happiness; he saw your golden ring, but felt too shy to tell you himself. Actually, wait. I believe his words were more to the effect that...it did not seem like a good time to mention it."

Thranduil groaned. "I will be honest, Earlene," as his voice dropped in volume. "I have to find a way to...get through to Thanadir. He is not going to be able to make this transition, if he cannot let go of far more of our traditional behaviors. I had thought that I was inflexible, but by comparison I am halfway to being human." He shook his head.

"I wish I could talk to him," Earlene said, hoisting the remaining bags into her arms, "but I am not learning your language nearly fast enough. At my present rate it will be months before I can even have a broken conversation."

"What would you say to him, if you could?" Thranduil asked, curious.

Reflecting a moment, she tried to find words. "I think I would be kind, but very blunt. I would tell him that even to make a trip into the village, for example just to visit the pub, he will see drunkenness, inappropriate clothing, hear every sort of cuss word, have to interact with uncouth and uneducated people, possibly have people touch both of you whilst exchanging gestures of greeting or social affection, and several other things besides...but at the same time, those are not the things that matter. These are good-hearted people with no sense of propriety, and frankly, part of that is on account of the history here. Why would any of them want to imitate the trappings of courtly behavior, when the very idea of a king is practically poisonous to them? And then multiply what I just said by about fifty, and that is what a trip to one of the great world cities would be like. And in terms of his service to you, he simply has to altogether stop this notion that as king, that he must keep you from participating in the ordinary actions of life because it is beneath your station. He can continue to serve you hand and foot in your Halls, if you both still desire this...but outside, whether it is dishes, offloading firewood, or carrying a drink from the bar, he must allow you to behave as everyone else does without interference. He can be your friend, your caretaker, your guardian, he can watch out for your interests, he can still serve you in many ways...but he has to realize that the way the two of you have interacted all of these long years...while in the outer world, it has to go. And honestly, today was a fine example of why. I won't speak it aloud; you can see in my mind what Ian thought of Thanadir's exchange with you."

Thranduil looked at her as he saw her memory, and groaned even louder.

Earlene grinned. "All is well, my Lord; I explained, and there is no harm done. But sooner or later, it will attract all the wrong attention. And honestly, in the beginning, it has to come sincerely and kindly from you, I think. You are his King; I am nothing, by comparison. I do not envy you, needing to redefine a relationship as old as human history."

"Older," said Thranduil, ruefully, as they entered the house.

"Thank you, my Lord," Earlene said, as he placed all the bags on the counter. She suppressed the smirk that wanted to come up, when she saw Thanadir's eyes widen in her peripheral vision, to see his King carrying groceries. The groceries were swiftly stored, as she turned her attention to mixing the batters for the cake and the brown bread. Frowning, she realized that her recipes called for two different oven temperatures by just a few centigrade; she elected to split the difference as she removed the pot roast and increased the heat. Lifting the lid, she sampled the gravy experimentally and was pleased. _Though, why didn't I think of dumplings?_

 _Meluieg, you are going mad for anything resembling bread._

 _I did warn you, husband._

With a smile, Thranduil returned to what he was reading on the computer.

Dinner came off magnificently, even by her standards. And if Thranduil noticed that she ate two slices of cake for dessert, he was wise enough not to say anything about it. Especially since, to her great satisfaction, Thanadir had seconds of it as well, which pleased her to no end. A new bottle of wine had been opened, and she sipped appreciatively at the remains of what was in her glass while she cleared away the dishes. It was not that late, and wistfully, she thought about a movie...but it did not seem like a good time. Everything had been too busy lately, and, she probably should study. Cleanup was so simple now, that she basically didn't have to bother any longer with refrigeration. Covered dishes simply could be placed back in the pantry area. She genuinely wasn't sure why she did keep the unit plugged in, except for that without it, there would be no frozen foods. And one day soon, she would make a trip in just for ice cream so...that settled that.

When she emerged from the pantry to start the little bit of washing up, she found that they were alone, and that Thranduil had about finished the dishes. "Where did Thanadir go?" she asked, surprised.

"Where Thanadir went, is that a movie with my wife sounded far better than more hours in front of a screen, however educational it is proving to be."

She laughed. "I suppose your rank has its privileges, my Lord. You are content with another of the movies like what we were watching before?"

"Yes, what is this one called?"

Retrieving the remote control, she said slowly, "I will tell you in a moment...it was The Hobbit, something something...An Unexpected Journey. Extended edition, if you wish to be particular. Will you want tea?"

"No, but later it would not be difficult to tempt me with more of...what did you call it? Cocoa?"

"Certainly." She nodded, wondering if he would like chocolate confections, as she readied the movie. He tended the wood stove, and unfolded a blanket, sitting in such a way as to allow her to lie back against him in complete comfort, and covered her. "You are going to completely spoil me," she said, full of appreciation for his fussing.

"Meluieg, I have not even begun to spoil you," he whispered, with a suggestive nip at her earlobe. She did not answer, but flushed with pleasure.

The film's first few minutes were amazing, to her. She had so many questions. _This takes place before the things we saw in the other films?_

 _Yes, by about eighty of your years._

 _That place was real? Erebor?_

 _Yes, and I am taken aback at how much these...actors... look like those they are portraying._

Earlene's jaw almost hit the floor, because about three minutes in, a dead ringer for her husband appeared in the role of the Elvenking. "Oh, no," she said. "This is worse than I could have imagined. How could they...how is any of this possible?"

 _Can you stop it for a moment, meluieg?_

She nodded, and did as he asked. The image froze on a beautiful necklace, that rested on a box filled with diamonds. Earlene was torn between asking what that necklace was, and the shock she'd just received at seeing a likeness far, far too close to Thranduil's on the screen.

 _Look at me, Earlene._

Unhesitatingly she turned, to do as he asked. He lifted from her thoughts the reason for her consternation; she now understood that he was far too recognizable. And this, on top of her realization today that were it to become known that his people were _these_ elves, it would create an uproar and a storm of interest, because of the many passionate followers of these stories.

"Thank you, meluieg. Do not fear, Earlene. Remember, I have the ability to affect what others see. That being said, it is invaluable to know about this now, and not later. And, not everything being shown is exactly as it was." He smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I remember this day well; those were jewels that belonged to me; the already half-mad Dwarf-King, Thrain, elected to withhold them as an insult to me. They are the gems of Lasgalen; heirlooms of my family. Though, the necklace was made by the dwarves; they had been entrusted with the stones and hired to create the necklace for Alassëa. But long before this fiasco was ever settled, she left for the Undying Lands. Needless to say, the transaction did not go according to plan. But that," he gestured at the image on the screen, "is not what the necklace looked like, at all."

"What did it look like, Thranduil?" she asked, curious. "I am sure it was very beautiful?"

"Indeed, meluieg; it was and it is."

"You are not going to tell me?" she asked, wondering if she was overstepping some kind of boundary or subject about which she should not ask.

Shaking his head, he smiled, for he loved that her heart could be so free from greed. "Meluieg, you are wearing it. The Necklace of Lasgalen is around your throat."

Her eyes widened and she went pale. She had known that it was valuable, and old, but...this...

"Earlene," he whispered, drawing her to him. "I did not mean for this to upset you, meluieg. There is something you should know. I made the mistake, once, of valuing these gems more than the ones I loved, and who loved me. I will never be so foolish again. The necklace is a thing, albeit a valuable and beautiful thing. You mean more to me than it ever possibly could, and it gives me great joy to know that you wear it, and that it protects you when I cannot be at your side. Can you understand this?"

After nodding her head against him, she took his hand before she looked up. "I am sorry for my reaction. It is that I was not prepared to hear...something like that. I hope you can understand, too, that I am a common person. Or, I was, before I found myself with you. I am not unfamiliar with wealth and privilege, but...not like this. There will still be some things that overwhelm me, and I ask for your patience." She kissed his hand.

"Of course, sweet one, and I do understand, more all the time; your world is just as overwhelming to me." He gestured for her to continue the film.

As she did so, she sighed. _I wonder if you have any idea how beautiful you are._

He chuckled. _I am glad you think so._ He chuckled harder, when he felt her elbow in his ribs.

He was more or less quiet for a long time; they both were, though she began to register the clucking noises he made to indicate that dwarves were perhaps not his favorites among the former races of his world. But there was a spark of interest when the wizard brought swords from a troll cave, and more interest alternating with snorts of indignation when the dwarves visited Imladris.

When Bilbo came upon the Ring in Gollum's cave, he almost tipped Earlene over, raving about "THAT'S HOW HE DID IT!" at which point she paused the film again, declaring that she was making cocoa, and what did he want in it? By way of distraction, she gave him a shot of whisky, as well as sufficient samples of the four new selections she'd brought home (which amounted to bourbon, peppermint schnapps, Grand Marnier, and Frangelico). She somewhat desperately hoped that he would not like the last one too much, as it was her favorite. It was actually a relief, when he chose the peppermint. It was far less expensive; and while not exactly something to "get ossified" on, as the locals would say, it made for a fabulous cup of hot cocoa.

Resettled, with drinks in hand, they sipped their way through the remainder of the film. Earlene thought the orcs in general, and Azog in particular, were awful.

"He was at that. Awful. I was not sorry when he met his end, though I am sorry about the price that was paid." He sighed. "I can guess I will see more of me in the next movie, Earlene. This film has ended in a location not far from the borders of what was once my great forest realm."

Something in his voice made her look at him more carefully. He looked her in the eyes. "I told you once that I was not always as I am now, that I was colder, bitter, more selfish. I can take a guess that what will be shown was of that time in my life. I think, I hope, I have changed a great deal, and that you can think better of me."

"Thranduil, I already think highly of you. Unless you are trying to prepare me for something depicting you as a baby murderer, I cannot imagine that anything I see here will change that opinion."

His eyes widened. "No, nothing like that," he said, with a faint smile.

"I didn't think so," she said, sipping her cocoa as she looked at his lovely eyes, and vaguely thinking about another piece of cake.

He laughed. "No more cake, sweet one, until tomorrow. I can see that this is a trial for you, and I will help make sure you eat properly. You are usually so careful, about eating well...this happens every month, on the day of your bleeding?"

She nodded, swallowing the last of her cocoa. "Usually, for two days." Laughing, she said "So please do not be too unkind to me, when breakfast tomorrow turns into frosted cinnamon rolls."

With a sparkle in his eye, he said "I will make eggs, and slice fruit as well. Then I will agree to your frosted cinnamon rolls."

"Yes, my King," she said, amused. Everything was turned off, and she at least ensured that she brushed her teeth, not knowing if cavity prevention was among his talents. Though, she reasoned, it probably was; his teeth were flawless.

As she returned from the bathroom, her lips parted at the sight. Would she ever find it ordinary, that Adonis himself invited her to join him in bed? _I sincerely hope not_ , she thought, disrobing. He switched off the light as she climbed in next to him, and he pulled her to him.

 _You were kind to me today, Earlene, and I am very grateful. I was not prepared to bury the emotions that came on the heels of all the things that went through your mind, about my father. There is not really that much to tell, but if you still wish to know..._ he trailed off.

 _Of course I wish to know, if it is still something that can grieve you all these many years later. It isn't like there are too many choices on the checklist, Thranduil. It is obvious to me that you were abused; the only question is the manner in which it was done. You have already told me that mental abuse occurred. That only leaves physical or sexual abuse, and given the nature of your race, I would guess the former._

He was silent, for a time. _I had forgotten, that you have an extraordinary ability to analyze. It helps. It makes this easier to say. Earlene, I...never spoke of this, to Alassëa. I loved her, very much, but our love was different. I believed I should not appear weak, to my wife, who saw me first as a King. She did not see as you see, or think as you think. And yet it is more than time, that I told someone._

 _My father was an able enough king, but at home, he was a tyrant. I was a spirited youth, but I was never bad, Earlene. And yet my face met the back of his hand more times than I can even count. It was as if he wished me to be a...slave, utterly bent to his will. To ask a wrong question, to speak a wrong word, for him to imagine that the wrong expression was on my features; any of those things could invite him to strike me. There were a few times, when it was much worse, and one occasion that almost tore my family apart. I broke under the strain of living under his demands from time to time and would speak out against him, and each of those occasions resulted in being beaten with a stick badly enough that I could not leave my bed for at least three days. The healers would tend me, but dared say nothing to him. I think it is safe to say that what the household of the king knew of my life versus what of the rest of the elven realm imagined were two very different things._

 _He did not hit my mother, that I ever saw; but he dominated her, and she was afraid of him. Mostly, she looked the other way, at how he treated me. I know that she cared on some level, but she could not bring herself to interfere. She always seemed so...sad. But one day, I was being beaten, and she came in to witness it. I heard her speak in a voice I had never heard before. She told him that if he did not stop at once, she would leave him, and petition the Valar for the dissolution of their bond. And that if she ever saw the like of this again, that she would also leave. I raised my head to see rage written on her face like never before. Nothing was ever said, and that day was never spoken of, but my father never raised his hand against me afterward. When my father was killed, I did not grieve for him. I hated him, Earlene. But I did, and still do, grieve for the loss of having had a father. I loved my own son, and I could not have dreamed of treating him as I was treated. I will never understand. Mostly I have made myself forget, but there are times...as you saw._

She reached her hand to caress his face. _I hope he met some kind of justice, however it works with elves, for what he did. In my world, what he did is a serious crime, and he would have gone to prison. In prison, those who abuse children are not viewed kindly. Even among criminals, it is considered to be one of the most cowardly and pathetic things that one person can do to another; to terrorize and injure a child, someone powerless and weaker than the perpetrator. And so the justice that often occurs is that once behind bars, those abusers are abused by other prisoners in ways that are... truly horrible. I am only glad that I will never lay eyes on your father, because I would probably want to do something very illegal to him. I am so, so sorry for what you have endured. I feel very sad, that I cannot erase what happened to you, or help you as you have helped me. I can only tell you that I love you, and deeply admire you, for having survived this with your ability to love another intact._

Their arms slid around each other as he held her tightly. _Thank you, for listening, and for your words. I believe you. In your own way, I believe you would do anything you could to defend me from harm._

 _That is what people who are family are supposed to do for each other. While I applaud your mother for helping you eventually, she acted much too late, and I blame her as well. If I saw that being done to a child of mine...I think it is best that I stop thinking about this, if I can. I will only get angrier, and my being angry does neither of us any good._

She felt him pulsing against her, and pushed herself against him more firmly. _I think I can better serve you otherwise, just now. Please._

 _You enjoyed earlier today, in the kitchen?_ he asked softly.

 _Too much._

 _Give me two of the pillows_ , she heard. In a moment, he had her on her belly, with the pillows underneath her hips and waist, still snug under the covers. He rubbed and massaged her lower back and bottom until she felt rather desperate in her want of him; suspecting that he was probably using his many unfair talents to add pleasure to his touch.

 _Earlene, you will tell me right away, if I am too rough?_ he asked, with a note of pleading.

 _Yes._

He entered her, and she inhaled sharply as she realized that this felt even better than the kitchen. Her hands sought something to hold onto, and he wrapped his arm under her collarbones, providing it to her.

 _Wait,_ he said. She felt the necklace being removed, and heard him place it next to her, before returning his arm to below her throat. He did not want to painfully press the jewelry into her skin. He began slowly, with her body held by his in a viselike grip. The only thing she could do was cling to his hand and forearm. The back of her neck was exposed to him, as were her ears, that he seemed to like to bite gently. The pleasure from his movements was incomparable; this was a new definition of feeling that her body was being dominated by his. As his passion increased, he moved more vigorously, more roughly; his thrusts were hard. Only once did she gasp because of discomfort, and he immediately adjusted his motions. She moaned from the stimulation that felt so incredibly good, but did not feel like she was building toward a release.

Until, that is, he slid the arm that held her waist a little so that his hand met her center of pleasure. Now, with every thrust into her, her nub was sliding against one of his fingers. It was not long after this added enhancement began, before she knew she could not last much longer. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped him with all her strength, as she sensed she was past the point of no return. As her intense pleasure unfolded, she marveled. _My God, it really is possible to see stars_. With a final thrust, he followed her, speaking her name in a shuddering voice. As she subsided, she felt aglow in the second part of her experience; feeling his essence move through her, strengthening her bond to him. Though she had never been religious, she wondered if experiences like this were what religious people believed in. It felt...sacred, between them. _I am so happy to have you, Thranduil. Gi melin._

 _As am I, meluieg._ She felt him kiss the back of her neck tenderly as he withdrew, and a moment later felt the necklace being clasped back into place. He pulled her against him, and against her back she could feel the steady beating of his heart, as she blissfully faded into sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

It was still dark, when Earlene woke. Thranduil had turned away from her as they slept, and for awhile she listened to the regular sound of his breathing, hoping that it might lull her once again to sleep. It did not. Carefully she rose so as not to wake him, and silently bundled clothes into her arms to take to the front room. Dressing and doing her best to add wood to the stove without making a complete racket, she poked the reluctant fire back to life. Next she put water on for tea, keeping the heat low enough so that she could have plenty of time to react before the kettle had a chance to shriek. She snuck back through the bedroom to the office to retrieve her yoga mat, and silently closed the bedroom door behind her. It had been awhile since she had pursued anything resembling her former fitness routines, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her newfound sex life was not exactly an acceptable substitute for strengthening and aerobic activities.

After sipping down enough of her tea, she began with the sun salutations, slowly transitioning from the easier positions to the more demanding ones. The better part of an hour later, light was coming into the sky and she felt energized. A run sounded delightful, and she would yet have plenty of time for the cinnamon rolls she had envisioned...especially if she mixed the dough now and allowed it to rise while she was out. Quickly this was accomplished, only with a mixing bowl and wooden spoon and kneading, as she did not wish to wake Thranduil by using the food processor. The dough was set to rise in an oiled bowl.

Returning silently to the bedroom, she found her running clothes and shoes and changed into them outside. Reasoning that if he woke before her return he could hear her anywhere inside of his realm, she elected to run in the forest. The paths they had walked on recently, the day he told her of their marriage, seemed quite nice. As she pocketed her smartphone and earbuds, it crossed her mind that for the first time in her life, she could leave behind her mace and her whistle. Or could she? While she could not for the life of her see why either would be needed, a nearly superstitious attachment to them caused her to keep the small items on her body.

With a smile of anticipation, she was soon tracking with very little sound in an eastern direction. It did not take long before her thoughts were far away. The last time she had gone for a decent run was in Central Park, and that now seemed like a lifetime ago. Here and there, she hopped over a downed limb or avoided a rocky outcropping, but largely was pleased to find that the paths were easy. Where the elevation changed, it did so gently. At one point she encountered flowing water, and hesitated. He had said something, she thought, about not touching water in the forest? Rather than risk some strange consequence, she decided to simply turn back. It had been about thirty-five minutes, and as she had wanted an hour's run, this was far enough.

The sun had now risen, and sit surprised her to find that whereas before all had been clear, mists were filling the air. But the path, game trail, (whatever it was) seemed plain enough, and she kept on, both intrigued with and charmed by the sudden change in the forest. It had its own strange beauty, and the buds could be seen swelling on the bare trees that would soon break their dormancy. As she ran and listened to her music, she frowned to realize that they mists were thickening. Looking at her phone, she swallowed. Another forty minutes had elapsed; she should have emerged back at her home by now. The sun was not above the trees, and regardless was obscured. Pausing the music, she removed the earbuds in order to listen; the woods around her were as still as a graveyard.

Sighing in frustration, she looked at the phone. No signal, and no surprise. But she had a compass app, and activated it. To her dismay, it told her that she had been running to the north, not west. _I should have been using this from the outset_ , she berated herself. _I have become lost, and now I need to get un-lost. Think, Earlene._

In her mind, she tried to recall the location of her home against the map of Lasg'len forest. It lay on the western edge, and at least in the beginning, she would have been heading east. Somewhere along the line she had turned north instead of west; realistically around the time she had attempted to return. In theory, if she turned southwest, she would at least improve her circumstances. Orienting herself in the correct direction, she looked out only to see that her visibility was now all of ten feet and dropping; this was pea-soup fog. She shook her head with a sigh. _This is how people get hurt. Do not add one problem to another._ _But I need to move; if I stop completely I will grow cold quickly. And it is beyond time to ask for help._ "Thranduil? Can you hear me?" Silence. But the she recalled what he'd said about hearing her the day she'd had strong emotions in her thoughts, even when he was at his Halls. And truthfully, she was becoming concerned about her predicament. Focusing, she tried again, with far more feeling. "Thranduil, please, I need help!"

 _Earlene_ , she heard with bottomless relief, _what are you doing in the forest?_

 _Wishing I was back in my kitchen, if you must know. Please, my Lord, I am lost and becoming cold, and I would like to be un-lost and warm. I have a compass, if I could be told for certain what direction to go?_

 _Thanadir is very near to you, Earlene. Stay where you are, and shortly he will be there to guide you home._

 _Yes, my Lord._ She buried her face in her hands, torn between knowing that Thanadir had seen her all but naked already, and the fact that she would not ever choose to appear in front of the seneschal wearing skin-tight running clothes that left little to the imagination. _It does not matter_ , she told herself, _this is not a fashion show._ And when he finally did appear through the mists, she hurried to him and bowed her head very deeply.

"Your Excellency, thank you, so very much," she said, her voice unsteady with relief. Though she tried not to give way to fear, she did not like fog and mists. It was probably a permanent fact of her life that anything with an even vaguely similar appearance to the grey clouds of dust from...that day...would always be at least an evil reminder.

She risked meeting his eyes and found warmth there. "You are welcome, Earlene," he said kindly. "Are you..." he paused, frowning, struggling to choose a word, and opting for something simpler. "Are you well?" he asked instead.

"Yes, now that you are here," she said smiling and bowing her head again. Though she knew she was no longer required to show him so much deference, it would be a habit that would be difficult to break. And truthfully, she did not mind. To her reasoning, any of the immortal elves deserved her respect. Whether he sensed her distress, or was simply being politely efficient, he offered his arm to her, and she gratefully took it.

"Nerim?" he asked her, only to see a look of bewilderment cross her face. He looked like he was thinking very hard, and then said, "Noro...nerim?" and gestured oddly with his fingers in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Thing from the Addams Family running down the hall.

 _Running down the hall_...with a flash, she thought she understood, and released his arm long enough to run a few steps, questioning back to him "...nerim?" (we run?)

With the first laugh she had ever heard from him, he smiled and answered, "Yes," and offered his arm again. The relief they both felt at this minor victory of communication was obvious. She ran easily at his side, as he allowed her to set the pace but guided her as to direction. Immediately it was obvious that her deductions with the compass had not been entirely correct; he chose a much more southerly course. How he knew where he was in the swirling mists, much less his direction, was beyond her. To her surprise, he spoke again, though his words were spoken slowly, and halting. "With the computer I have learned many new words. May I speak to you? I need..." he frowned "...practice." He pronounced the last word as prak TIZE, which initially puzzled her.

"Practice," she gently corrected. "Yes, you may speak to me, to practice," she said slowly and clearly, pausing afterward. With her heart in her throat, certain she was about to make a complete fool of herself, she forced the words from her mouth. "i lam Thindrim...íd gordh. Nathathol aen nin?" (the tongue of the Sindar is very difficult. Would you help me?)

Thanadir gazed down at her with eyes just as ancient and full of depth as those of his King. "i lam Thindrim gordh íd," he said, repeating the sentence back to her with the proper word order. "I will help you, Earlene. We will help each other." They ran on in silence after that, until at last they emerged from the forest in foggy sight of her home. Filled with gratitude toward the elf, she placed her hand over her heart and bowed to him again before they entered.

"Len hannon, Thanadir." Opening the door, in a moment she was embraced by Thranduil. "And thank you also, my Lord," she said softly.

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, at seeing her attire.

"I apologize to both of you," she said, looking from the seneschal to her husband. "This is what many humans wear for exercising; the fabric is specially made for this purpose. It was not my intention to be seen wearing these clothes. And I do not have the skill to say this to Thanadir, who was gracious enough to not comment on my appearance. Please excuse me so that I can change, and then I will see to breakfast."

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared into the bedroom, while she heard Thranduil speaking in Sindarin that was as usual too rapid to be understood by her. Feeling contrite enough to don a dress, she chose a long sleeve cotton shirt, leggings and a plaid calf-length woolen jumper. _An American jumper dress, not the Irish kind_ , she thought with amusement. She also freed her hair of its ponytail, quickly combing it. Emerging from the room, she found her apron, though it did not escape her notice that the King's eyes softened, to see what she wore. Though she still thought it was silly, he so obviously strongly preferred to see her wear skirts. And she did not mind indulging him...as long as it was not all of the time. To her great relief, the dough for the cinnamon rolls was just risen perfectly, and was not the over-proofed and overflowing mess she feared she might encounter.

"Earlene, will you tell me what happened to you? Why did you enter the woods alone?"

She felt a little confused at the question, wondering why he asked when he could read her mind, but answered with respect. "I woke very early, my Lord, unable to sleep longer. It had been many days since I exercised as has been my habit. Here I practiced yoga, but then I wanted to run also. I thought I would be safer in the woods and ran what I thought was east, for a half hour, and came to water. I recalled your warning and decided to turn around and return, rather than risk touching the water. But then fog came, that worsened slowly. I ran for another half hour and realized that I had lost my way when I did not arrive here, and my compass told me I was going the wrong direction. The fog became very dense and I did not wish to risk injury. That was when I called to you for help. If I have done wrong, I am sorry."

"You did not do anything wrong, Earlene; and now I understand. But because I did not know you intended to do this, you fell victim to the defenses set in place. The forest lies under many enchantments; one of those is designed to cause any mortal to become swiftly lost. You were wise to call for me; had you kept on your predicament would have worsened. I will make changes, so that this will not happen to you again. At least, not on account of enchantment."

She smiled. "I have much to learn. I thought it was strange, that such a dense fog had come."

Thranduil frowned. "The fog is not my doing; that is merely the weather."

"Oh. But...does your...whatever it is you do, it can defy a compass? I would still have become lost, even if I used it the entire time?"

"Given that I do not seem know the meaning of this word in the way you are using it, perhaps I should ask you to explain, meluieg," he said.

Fishing out her phone once again, she showed him. "Normal ones are separate handheld devices, but now that everyone more or less has smartphones..."

"How is this used?" he asked, fascinated. He beckoned for Thanadir to look as well. "Tolo, Thanadir."

"Like every compass, my Lord. It aligns with the magnetic field of this world, and allows the bearer to orient themselves. The idea is to use it so that the needle aligns with north, like so, and then the user can determine their direction of travel based on this."

He frowned mightily. "And this is a common device?"

"Yes and no, my Lord. It is extremely common among any who have some outdoor skills or understand any manner of navigation. But I would hazard it would also not be difficult to find someone who did not know how to use one."

"Soon, we will duplicate your run in my forest, Earlene. I would know whether or not my enchantments can defeat this device. And you may now return to your cinnamon rolls," he teased.

"You are generous and gracious, my King," she dished back, smiling. "Lasguil, Thanadir, i Aran nîn?" (Tea?)

Seeing that both heads nodded, she set the kettle on after filling it, before turning to the concoction of cinnamon and butter and brown sugar that she spread over her rolled rectangle of dough. _I could save time and just spoon the sugar into my mouth_ , she reasoned, popping a solidified chunk of brown sugar onto her tongue. Soon lovely pinwheels of tightly rolled dough were arranged in round pans, and in the oven. _Now for frosting..._

Quietly, Thranduil had watched this production as he sipped his tea. Apparently deciding he'd seen enough, he cracked eggs and scrambled them before he gathered apples and bananas as well as a can of pears from the pantry, and began slicing. Earlene knew that it was a not very subtle hint about the nutritional merit of her rolls, but elected to say nothing. Until the banana. "My Lord," she said with respect and a kind smile, "It is customary to peel that fruit before slicing it. And I promise you, that this will be the last day I will be preparing such as this for breakfast for awhile."

Thranduil paused, considering her words, but then laid down the knife and peeled the banana before continuing. "Len hannon, bess." (wife)

Not to be outdone, she responded. "Glassen, hervenn." (husband) The fun of this was, to her, that he did not know which words she had learned to date... or not.

Seeing that her husband was busy cooking eggs and that she had some extra time, she came around the counter to indulge her curiosity regarding what Thanadir was doing. It only took a few moments to conclude that he was reverse engineering yet another website that taught Sindarin grammar, so as to learn the English. While this was useful in a way, it would give him only an academic understanding of English. With a sigh, she realized... _Thanadir needed television._ _But what?_

She considered carefully concerning what could teach him, about what would best impart the complexity of modern humans. _May the powers forgive me, there is only one clear choice_ , she thought. This would teach him English, but would also explain the best and worst of who they were as humans. Turning on the television, she went to her Amazon Prime membership, and searched. Both ellyn looked up to see the triumph written on her face as the television loudly intoned, " _Space, the Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise..._ " and then Earlene paused it, handing Thanadir the remote. "This television show is set to play with subtitles, and will help Thanadir by allowing him to hear spoken English. I would like that we watch these together, perhaps one episode on most days. But it is for you also, Thranduil, to understand much more about humans. You will have to explain many of the words to Thanadir, at first."

Thranduil looked at her in disbelief. "Starship? Space? Earlene, what is this about, exactly?"

"It is an imaginary setting hundreds of years from now, based on the idea of a creative man. He envisioned a world in which humans had solved their worst problems and built a magnificent future for themselves, traveling to outer space to explore and learn. But the adventures in these episodes were a device by which to try to educate people living in the modern world to reconsider their very real fears and prejudices. If you wish to understand human nature, I cannot think of a better place to start." She crossed her arms over her chest, as she concluded her short speech.

Looking helplessly at his seneschal, he began to translate, but was interrupted. "Forgive me, my Lord, for my rudeness. But I beg you; I too need to learn, and it would help me greatly if you would speak slower and more clearly, so that I might have a chance to understand some of your words. If you would be willing." Each word was spoken carefully, for Thanadir's benefit.

His gaze was expressionless, as he considered what she had said. He did not answer, but started over, speaking much slower. "Earlene pêd, boe pedin úlim..." (Earlene says, I must speak slowly...)

Her heart filled with thanks for this concession, and as he saw her gratitude it more than made up for what felt like a test of his patience. The kitchen timer jangled, and the rolls were done. "Se mann melui íd," (this food is very sweet) she announced to anyone who cared to know, as she brought the pans out to cool for a few moments.

Much to her surprise, she heard Thanadir, as she fussed with removing the rolls from the pans so that she could frost them. "Aníron madd melui," (I like sweet food). Raising her eyes, she smiled at the seneschal openly, forgetting anything resembling manners. A part of her could have kissed him.

"Belain, natho nin!" rumbled Thranduil. (Valar, save me!)

Earlene did not understand these words, and wondered why a pained look had come over Thanadir's face. "What did you say to him?" she frowned, as she stirred the vanilla extract into the frosting.

Thranduil told her, and her frown deepened.

 _He has served you faithfully for thousands of years, and you are going to make him feel bad for liking cinnamon rolls?_ she accused, feeling suddenly volatile. Aloud she said, "Please excuse me, I will return shortly." Before any further comment could be made, she dashed off to the barn, where she stood leaning against one of the workbenches. Her sudden irritation was not expected, and she was trying to understand. And, the emotion frightened her. The last time she had become angry around Thranduil, it had been disastrous. And though this did not seem the same as that moment of blind rage, neither did she feel like herself. _I should apologize_ , she thought. _It is not for me to say how a King speaks to his subjects, and what I said is not how a subject should have spoken to a King, even in thought. Why am I feeling this way?_ As the minutes wore on, her reflections brought her no answers.

"Earlene."

At hearing his voice, she turned to face him, dropping her head. "Please pardon me, Thranduil. I am sorry."

He pulled her close. "You are sorry for pointing out something that was true, meluieg? Please come back with me, so that we can all eat. I have apologized to Thanadir. And after we eat, all three of us are going to have an overdue conversation, however long it takes on account of the language barrier."

More confused than before, she did as he asked, and let herself be steered back to the house. Feeling suddenly weary, she did not enjoy her breakfast treat as she had hoped to, though she took some consolation in watching Thanadir do serious damage to one of the pans of rolls. At one point, she nudged the extra frosting toward him when she refilled her tea mug. Seeing that she had only taken two bites of her own roll and nibbled at a few pieces of fruit, Thranduil sighed as he rose from his seat to go to the pantry. Returning with the bottle of Frangelico, he tipped a generous measure into her tea mug before she could object. She smiled weakly at the resolute look on his face, which indicated in no uncertain terms that she was to consume the beverage. _Yes, my Lord_ , she spoke to him silently, as she caught the barely perceptible nod of his head.

"If you cannot eat any more, Earlene, please take your tea and sit on the sofa. Thanadir, tolo, havo dad," he said, indicating for the other elf to come and sit down as well. Tending the fire first, he sandwiched Earlene between himself and Thanadir. Though it embarrassed her a little bit, she did not protest when he unfolded some of the blanket and placed it over her lap, to keep her warm. And as he began to speak with careful enunciation, he stopped every two sentences to repeat everything back in translation for his seneschal.

"We must all be clear, on how matters must be between us, from now on. Things cannot remain the same. Thanadir, you have served me as your ruler for countless years. And Earlene, you have served me for only days, and now you find yourself bound to me in marriage. For both of you, great change has come upon you swiftly, and both of you have an impediment to navigating this change. That problem is...me. Thanadir, your problem with me is that for long ages, our roles were clear. King and trusted servant. Earlene, your problem is that in the short time you have known me I have been a disembodied voice, a seducer, a lover, a demanding ruler, and now I am your husband; you are trying to keep up and can hardly manage.

We are on the verge of guiding our people into an alliance, however minimal, with the world of men when this has not been the case since early in the Fourth Age of Middle Earth. If we are to succeed on behalf of those still emerging from having faded, we must first succeed ourselves. And Thanadir, this will be hardest on you. From this moment forward, when we are not in our Halls, we must all relate to each other differently. I can no longer be King; I must be more like...a head of household. I expect that we will treat each other with the courtesy of family, for that is what we indeed are, and I love both of you. I cannot have you, Thanadir, treating me like royalty in a world that despises the very word, any more than I can have you, Earlene, afraid to speak your heart to me because you tell yourself that it is not your place as my subject. We can leave these manners intact only for where they will truly belong...behind the Great Gates of my realm."

Although Earlene understood both his words and the reason, having more or less suggested this very speech herself, she found that it came as a blow, of sorts. Her lips parted as she sipped at the tea. While she was fighting to keep a level demeanor, it seemed like her confusion had worsened, because now the foundation of how she related to him was being moved from under her. Her body, mind, and heart had been changed to bend to his will but now...that part of her was to be set aside? Glancing up at Thanadir, she saw her own feelings reflected in his face with magnitudes of greater intensity, and her heart went out to him in pity. Rising, she mumbled to please give her a moment, as she went to find Thanadir's own mug. Adding some hot tea and a lot of the sweet hazelnut liquor, she returned to her seat. Reaching to gently take the seneschal's hand, she pressed the beverage into it with eyes full of empathy before she began mechanically sipping at her drink once again. If it felt this hard for her, she could only imagine what the one seated next to her was processing.

Earlene spoke first, slowly. Her back was partly turned to Thranduil, as she looked at nothing in particular while she tried to frame her words. "I will do as you ask, Thranduil. Now that it is upon me, though, it feels very hard. Even though I am not supposed to have understood serving a King because of not having lived this way before, this feels like...a sacrifice. Please be patient with me. I will not call you my King, or my Lord here any longer, and I will try to speak to you as I do anyone else, but..." she trailed off, as tears she did not expect spilled down her cheeks.

Unbeknownst to her, this heartfelt response transformed everything, for Thanadir. He understood far more words than Earlene could have imagined, having devoured text with his flawless memory. As he watched his King's mortal wife struggling through her determination to obey his wishes, through grief that echoed his own far greater pain, strength and resolve filled him. If she in her human frailty could do this, so could he. Unaware of all of this, Earlene gasped in surprise when she felt the gentle brush of Thanadir's fingers against her face, as he used the fabric of his long sleeves to dry her tears. The seneschal spoke slowly, in English. "I also will do as you ask, Thranduil. In long ages, I have not ever once spoken you like this, because my love and respect for you could not permit it. You are my King, and if this is your wish I will obey you. I too ask for your patience, as I do my best to follow the example of your queen."

Thranduil did not know what he had expected, but this was not it. Thanadir's words provoked a fresh round of tears in Earlene's eyes that pooled but did not fall, as she blinked them back. "We will manage, together," Thranduil said softly. "That you will both to try to make this change brings joy to my heart." Two faces that were barely managing to smile looked back at him, as Thanadir, now understanding the value of his adulterated mug of tea, began to drink it down in earnest. No one spoke further, which is why the knock that came from the front door seemed so very loud. Earlene frowned, not expecting any further deliveries.

"We are being paid a visit by Lorna," said Thranduil. "Would you like me to get the door, to give you another moment, meluieg?"

"Please," Earlene whispered, not sure if she was at all in a frame of mind to see her friend just now...but she would have to make the best of it. Looking blankly at Thanadir, she tried to summon resolve she did not feel.

He surprised her again. "Mellonenin, my queen" (You are my friend) he said to her softly, taking her hand long enough to squeeze it gently in reassurance.

Her eyes widened as the weight of the compliment settled over her. "Mellonenin...Your Excellency," she said, at equally low volume. Their shared difficulty found its perfect expression in this small moment of humor, as they both smiled widely at this strange camaraderie in the midst of their unwanted circumstances. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said, suddenly feeling like she might survive this visit after all. Rising, she turned to greet her friend. "Lorna! It is so nice to see you, would you like cinnamon rolls? And tea? I made frosting..."

Lorna had pondered calling ahead, but realized that she'd got Earlene's email without ever asking for her phone number. She set out anyway, figuring that even if Earlene was busy, a walk in the fresh air was never a bad thing. Her news wouldn't take long to relay, though her idea would take rather longer.

The scent of cinnamon rolls was almost enough to make her actually drool. She hadn't had proper cinnamon rolls since she came to the village, given that she'd been spoiled by her sister's and few others could compare. "You're a saint, Earlene," she said, stepping through the door and inhaling deeply. "Good to see all'v you, because I've got news. You're already married, but it'd be remiss as hell'v us - the village, I mean - to not give you a party. I've got my sister planning out a wedding cake, though I didn't tell her who exactly it was for. It'd be a good chance to see us all in our...er, glory," she added, glancing at Thranduil and Thanadir. If they could handle Lasg'len at its most Irish, they could handle anything else it might have to throw at them. Being around that many ossified humans would be - well, it would be an experience. Whatever they might make of it, they were certainly unlikely to be bored.

Earlene quickly moved to place two rolls on a plate, and popped then into the microwave for those few seconds needed to restore the perfect warmth and gooey-ness to the confections, as a smile spread over her face. "Lorna, we would love that! A party...that is so incredibly kind of you." She was speaking with unusual slowness. "I should explain, we are all making an effort to speak like this, for learning. I am trying to learn their language, Thanadir is working on his English, and no one is getting anywhere when we speak at normal speed."

Thranduil chimed in. "And my impatience is struggling, desperately, but even I have to agree this is necessary. Though Earlene is insisting we watch this...Star Trek. Do you know this...program, Lorna? I am not convinced that this is a good use of time."

Earlene, for her part, thought she was doing a royally wonderful job of not looking like she wanted to throttle her husband. Suddenly, all her appetites reversed, and she reheated her own cinnamon roll, and then added a heaping blob of frosting.

Lorna could try to speak more slowly, but she knew how difficult her accent could be to understand even for native English speakers - hell, even other Irish people sometimes had a hard time of it. "You're part'v this village," she said, as carefully as she could. "They've taken you in whether you want them to or not, and that includes celebrating things with you."

She took a bite of cinnamon roll, and shut her eyes. These were every bit as good as Mairead's, and that was really saying something. She could never tell her sister this, or Mairead would die of jealousy. "Star Trek?" she asked, opening her eyes. "Star Trek's bloody grand. It's - well, it's what humans could be, if we could get over ourselves and actually get something done. There's fifty years'v it, too, and if you really want to sit and read into it, you can see a lot'v actual history. It's always tackled shite that was around when it was made, if you get my meaning, like racism and the Cold War and all that." Oh God, what were the Elves going to make of human history, once they knew more of it? They'd probably be completely appalled. "My nieces and nephews and I sat and watched all the series and movies over a couple long winters. So much'v fiction takes a pretty dim view'v humanity, but Star Trek's lasted so long because it does the opposite." Okay, she could get a little passionate about the subject. Her first exposure to it had been in prison, and it had been one of the earliest things to make her stop and think about the fact that the world didn't always have to be shite. Sure, some of it was bloody silly, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Besides, it's entertaining."

Earlene did not even bother to stifle the insufferable expression of satisfaction that spread over her face. When Thranduil looked at her, his eyes narrowing, innocence spread over her features. "These rolls really did turn out well, didn't they?" she asked him, fully determined to pretend that her enjoyment was not ninety percent Lorna's comment, and maybe ten percent anything to do with her baking. "But as for the Star Trek, all I ask is that you give it a chance, Thranduil. You will learn more than you think you will, I promise you. And besides, I want to hear more about the party."

To everyone's shock, Thanadir spoke. "I will help, if I can. Is there something I can do?" Earlene's lips parted, as she sincerely had no idea how an elf could possibly help plan an Irish wedding celebration.

"They're bloody fantastic," Lorna said, forcing herself not to eat the thing in three bites. Her own cooking could be described as serviceable at best; she couldn't have hoped to concoct anything this tasty on her own. "As to Star Trek, you won't regret it. Trust me."

She blinked at Thanadir's question. She appreciated the offer, but just how much English did he understand? It might well prove too frustrating for him, and she could hardly blame him for it if it did. Trying to follow instructions you couldn't understand was a recipe for disaster. Maybe, though… "If I show you how to make something, you can repeat it, right?" she asked, slowly and carefully. She wanted to make ribbon rosettes, but she didn't have the time to do them herself, and nobody else in the village knew how. Her gran had showed her, one wet winter evening the first year she'd lived in Bael.

Thanadir turned to Lorna, actually smiling. "Yes, I can. Please show me?"

Earlene spoke to Thranduil in her mind. _Did you tell him to do this? I would never have guessed._

 _No, meluieg, I did not tell him._

 _He is trying, very hard, Thranduil. I hope he survives Lorna._

Earlene saw her husband grin. _In times gone by, Thanadir was a renowned warrior. Now he must gain another kind of victory. Have faith in him._

 _I do have faith in him. It is his sensibilities, that concern me._

This little conversation was interrupted by Lorna. "I can," she said. "I've not got the ribbon with me, but I can bring it by later. My gran - my mother's mother - taught me them. It'll be a grand help to me, that's for sure." Privately, she wondered just how well he'd be able to get on - his hands were quite a bit larger than hers - but she doubted Elves half-assed anything. He'd muddle through. "I've got an idea, you two," she added, looking from him to Thranduil. "About getting you legal identities. My da's mam, she was Romani - the Romani used to travel about a lot, and some still do. They'd not always give birth in hospital, so they wouldn't have a birth certificate to identify them with, but there's hoops you can jump through to establish identity as an adult. It's a bit weird, and not necessarily easy, but I've a friend that owes me a favor. She's a solicitor, but a bit'v a shady one, if you take my meaning. She'd help, if I asked her right. Thanadir, you'd need semi-fluent English first, and the pair'v you would need something closer to an Irish accent if anyone was to buy it."

Earlene snapped to attention, not ever having heard of this particular legal strategy. Though, she was not entirely surprised; the international corners of law could be very obscure, indeed. "That could...work, and work well, as long as nothing like genetic testing is involved. We'd have to be sure about that part; the last thing I need is the helicopters landing to take in those who had the alien DNA. But if it's just ordinary, then the only thing that could be seen as odd are their ears and maybe we can manage to keep that from being noticed? The elves are smart enough to learn about anything. Thranduil, Thanadir, what do you think about her information?"

Thranduil paused, and Thanadir continued to look at his King. "What is this...genetic testing?" he asked.

Earlene replied, "This is a complicated subject, we will look at the computer later so you can learn more. To sum up, genes are the molecules inside of the cells of living things; they dictate everything about a person. Appearance….everything. The genetic makeup of each individual is unique in all the world, and science has the ability to determine that code; it has many uses. I am guessing that as elves, your genetic codes might appear very different than that of a human, were the information allowed to be obtained. Laws say that such testing cannot be done without your consent. I think it is a small risk, but one of which I want to be careful. But the advantage to what Lorna suggests is that we could avoid the risk of being caught committing a crime. This would be more like slightly bending the law, whereas what I had thought to do earlier would be more like breaking it into pieces."

Thranduil weighed the idea, with all eyes on him. "I see no harm in investigating this further. It sounds as though it could succeed, and this is an obstacle that must be overcome. Thank you, Lorna, for your help." The King walked closer to the diminutive woman, and then thought better of it, seating himself while still some distance away from her. "Lorna, I do not wish you to take offense, but I am in the habit of compensating those who…(he was about to say "serve me", but reconsidered in the nick of time) help our interests. You are providing invaluable assistance, and I would like to pay you. Would you allow this, please?"

"I can ask my solicitor," Lorna said. "About the DNA testing, I mean. I don't think it'd be a problem - there's no real reason for them to want one. They're more likely to just give you a physical, make sure you've not got any congenital diseases or whatever. The ears...if you both wear your hair in a low ponytail, you can cover the ears and nobody need know otherwise."

The idea of taking payment for this sat rather ill with her, especially since she wasn't the one actually doing the work. Most of the useful people she'd met, like Mick and Niamh, the solicitor, she'd met either in prison or through her parole officer, not through any skill or effort of her own. Still, she had a feeling there wasn't much use in refusing. "If you feel you've got to," she said slowly. "I'd be partial to any alcohol your lot'v kept secret from us humans. The thing is, if I go home flashing around much money, my sister'll want to know where I got it. I can't exactly tell her, so she'd think I've been dealing drugs." Which was patently unfair; Lorna had done some rather shady things in her life, but she'd never _sold_ drugs, she'd only _taken_ them - a distinction that was lost on Mairead.

Thranduil frowned. "I do feel that I must, and yet I have no wish to cause you difficulty. If you will allow me time to think, I am certain that we can find a solution." His eyes met hers again. "I do have wine, Lorna, that was famous in all the lands. But as redoubtable as your ability to consume liquor is, I fear to give it to you. I would not offer it to Earlene, except for perhaps a few drops. Mortals are not known to be able to manage well with it, at all."

Earlene broke in. "I will leave the subject of the wine alone, but I do have an idea about payment. It is possible to give a prepaid credit card; no one would see any cash, and even if your family saw such a thing, they would hardly think that someone purchasing illicit substances paid you in such a manner. Not to imply that I would believe that of you, Lorna. You do not strike me at all as a…." Earlene sighed. "Enough said."

Had Lorna been even ten years younger, she might have wanted to test her liver against Elf wine in large quantities, but she knew better by now. Not much better, but still. "Mairead, she'd not think I was doing anything wrong if I had a credit card, especially since she wouldn't need to know I had it. She's not that much older than me, but she's worse than an overprotective mother, I swear." She looked away, wondering if she should even say this, or just keep her damn mouth shut. That had never been her strong suit, so out came, "Look, I've done some shite in my life. I've not sold drugs, but I've done...well, enough to get me sent to prison. If I can help you lot, maybe that'll even out whatever ledger Fate keeps."

Earlene shrugged. "You'll hear no judgement out of me, Lorna. I spent my life working among people who were criminals of their own sort. Because much of the time that is what the rich and powerful did; twist it all around so that they could get away with what others could not. I tried to keep my hands clean of cases that involved using the law for things I felt were not morally right, but...there were also times I had to shut up and do my job or I would have paid the price for refusing. Maybe all of us should have gone to jail." She shook her head. "I guess what I'm saying is, life isn't always clear cut and simple. Though," she teased with a twinkle in her eye, "I hope this isn't your way of telling us that you like to burn down houses or sell body parts to the Russian mafia."

Lorna was more relieved than she wanted to let on. "Can't say I've got arson or organ trafficking on my resume," she said. "What I have got are a number'v shady friends, and a lot'v them owe me favors I've got no other use for. Hell, I met Mick because we shared the same parole officer, though don't tell him I told you. He likes to pretend he wasn't an eejit in his youth." She snorted, and stole another cinnamon roll. "I think he might actually still be on parole, so we'd best keep tabs on his parole officer. Don't want him sniffing around here."

Thranduil frowned. "No, we do not, not that it would matter. And it would seem, Lorna, that your, ah, shady friends will be coming very much in handy. Unless I am much mistaken, we will be able to help each other. And Mick, when I meet him, shall hear of none of this. We are loyal to those who are loyal to us," he said kindly, but with unmistakable meaning.

"I won't go blabbing about you lot," Lorna said. "Mairead says I can be a bit'v a shit, but I'm not like _that_." She eyed him closely, though she was pretty sure she wouldn't read anything in his face he didn't want her to find. While it was possible she'd make a bloody fool of herself with her next words, she doubted it. "My question for you is what kind'v mind-whammy you've got planned for the village, or if you've got one at all."

Thranduil smiled. "You have a refreshingly direct way of expressing yourself, Lorna. And I will not insult your powers of perception by trying to evade your question. You want to know what abilities I have that you do not. That we have, that you do not. And I will tell you, because I can already see that you are willing to keep what you learn to yourself, though it is an unusual concession for me to openly reveal this. The other elves here could choose to hear your thoughts, if they tried very hard. It is not our custom, to seek to invade the mental privacy of others. But as you have already guessed, I am different. When you enter the boundaries of my Realm, your active thoughts are as loud to me as if they were spoken. If I chose to, I could hear the thoughts of the other elves, and at need they can hear me, but mortal thoughts are incredibly….impossible to not notice. It is not something I am trying to do, it is something I cannot help. I can and do communicate with Earlene by thought, much of the time; I hear her in the same way I do you. Were I to step outside of the forest, I am not entirely certain how it would be, only that I could guess that something similar would be in effect especially for those near to me. And there is more. I can alter the perceptions of human minds; I can affect what they see or do not see. You already know I can heal illness and injury. I have other powers, that allow me to protect our home in the forest; and those cannot be discussed unless you were to wish to enter my service and speak far stronger promises. I can tell you honestly that I have never sought to 'mind whammy' anyone who has not posed a risk to this forest, nor would I. I cannot help what I hear of others, but neither do I share it. I have ever sought to use my abilities to protect and defend. Believe me, I can understand that it is difficult to know that one's thoughts are no longer private, and I have done everything possible to respect others. But I am King here, and when those come who would commit acts of evil, I have not regretted the ability to look into their hearts. If there is more you would know, Lorna, ask. I will answer, if my own vows to my people allow for it."

Lorna's first thought, because it was her, was to hope nobody had told him what a zombie was. If he could read her mind that easily here, he had to have caught what she'd thought when she first saw him. Oops. Her second thought was that that was rather more than she'd suspected - she'd figured he'd had some kind of telepathy, but not the scope of it. It was a damn good thing he was content to sit in his forest, more or less, because he could be one hell of a problem if he chose. "That's...damn," she said, setting down what remained of her cinnamon roll. "I'm a bit allergic to jobs I can't quit, so I won't ask anything over my clearance level, sort'v thing. I just...this isn't my village, so it's not my problem anyway, but if you're not planning on mucking about in their heads for shits and giggles, that's the only promise I can reasonably ask." She believed him...mostly. Unless she was vastly mistaken, he had to have mind-whammy'd Earlene when they met, because the timeline of their relationship and her personality just didn't match up. He didn't appear to be doing it _now_ , however. "Not being able to shut us out...that'll either make your wedding party a joy or an utter bloody nightmare."

She really did not yet know just what to make of this, because it went against absolutely everything she'd believed for the last thirty-nine years. She'd only just got her head around the idea of elves; that they - or he, at least - could have powers like that made her brain itch.

Christ...if he could read her mind, he'd probably seen exactly _why_ she'd gone to prison. He'd probably seen a whole load of things that made her want to cringe - and of course thinking that made her think of all the things she wouldn't want him to see. Not just her father, but all the stupid shite she'd done as a teenager, things both dire and petty. Given her personal history, how in all bloody hell could he want her anywhere _near_ Earlene? Maybe he was acting on faith, just like she was. _Happy thoughts, Lorna_ , she ordered herself. _Kittens. Fluffy kittens._ That, of course, just reminded her of the time she'd caught her youngest nephew shaving the family cat...this was going to take some getting used to. She still wanted to help this odd, creepy lot, because _someone_ had to. They had a right to deal with the outside world, and it had to be done safely. _Does he know I killed Da? Does he know what I did?_ She didn't want to care if he did know, but dammit, she'd spent fifteen years pretending that had never happened, not telling anyone. Liam knew, but Liam was _Liam_. Even Mairead didn't know the details. She doubted _he'd_ tell anyone, since there wasn't exactly much reason to, but still. Part of her wanted to run away and find a hole to crawl into.

"Lorna," Thranduil said softly, "would you walk with me? I promise I am not going to harm you, swallow you up in the forest, or otherwise do anything to you. But I would like to speak with you, privately." Standing up, but not moving closer, he offered his arm to her.

Lorna stood as well, but her thoughts weren't entirely in the moment. The harder she tried not to think about certain things, the more impossible it was - it was like the old saying about not thinking about the elephant. Normally she had serious issues with touching relative strangers, but she was so wigged out already that a little more couldn't hurt, and she gingerly took his arm. It had to look rather stupid, given that her head didn't even reach his shoulder, but oh well. Earlene would be right pissed if the forest did actually swallow her up, so she probably didn't need to worry about it. She hoped.

As Earlene watched the two of them exit the house and make their way across the still mist-laden yard, she said to Thanadir, "More tea, Your Excellency?" She could only imagine the tatters that Lorna's mind must be in, just now. And there was no doubt in her mind that Thranduil was trying to help...she just hoped that he could. Thanadir appeared to be possessed of similar thoughts, as he also looked on. Several seconds elapsed, before he seemed to recall that she had asked a question.

"Yes, please, Earlene. I am sorry. I have...much I am thinking of."

Earlene nodded. "I feel the same. I…" she dropped her head, realizing that she could not even form her own thoughts. "Never mind," she said quietly, as she filled the kettle and set it on the burner. Returning with her laptop, she sat next to him, and brought up BBC news for Ireland. "Would you like to practice reading to me, Thanadir?" she asked. When he nodded, she pointed to an article she thought might not numb her mind, and kindly corrected him as he read, surprised at how few mistakes he made.

Thranduil walked carefully with Lorna into the trees, fascinated at how much smaller than she was than Earlene, who was already in his eyes not exactly large. He rolled over in his mind just how much he really wanted to tell her. What he had thought to say, even he was struggling to believe, but the rawness of her thoughts had struck a deep chord within him. "Lorna, I am sorry for the mental distress that my words have created for you. But more than that, as you have guessed, I have seen what you would rather I had not. Yet we are not so different as you think." He walked on for a time, trying to choose his words. "My own father was...awful, Lorna. I know what I endured from him and I can see shades of what you suffered as well. And while I did not, could not duplicate your solution, I wanted to. More than anyone knows. He was killed fighting a war, and I could barely contain how happy this made me. I hated him."

The words were spoken with a far greater vehemence than what he had used when he explained this to Earlene, perhaps because he had had more of a chance to reflect on the price he had paid for those years of turmoil. "I do not think ill of you. In a way I admire you; you did what I could not. Your life is not for me to judge, Lorna, though the laws of your land may have done so. I think what I am trying to say is...I had not understood, until I met Earlene, how similar we all really are. I had made assumptions about humans, perhaps just as you have made assumptions about me. I had thought that I was so different from everyone else, until the constant exposure to the thoughts of another proved to me how wrong I was. I wanted to tell you this in the hopes that instead of feeling like you must bear your burdens alone, that you have other options. I will tell no one, Lorna; it is not my story to tell. But should you ever wish to talk, and lighten the weight of your memories, know that I would gladly listen. And so would my wife, who likes you a great deal and would think no more of this than I do.

And regarding Earlene...I can see that you are concerned about her. About how she came to be wed to me, so quickly. She can tell you, if she wishes. While I will not claim that our introduction to each other was free from all forms of undue influence on my part, I can tell you that Earlene is a very intelligent woman who in the end chose what she wanted to have. I did not make her my captive nor force her decisions. The only things of which Earlene is not free to speak are those matters regarding which she has made binding promises; Earlene has taken 'the job she cannot quit', as you say. She can certainly give you her reasons, if she wishes. I will not presume to speak for her, but I did want to assure you that I do not control her in the manner you fear."

Somehow, Lorna wouldn't have thought these elves could be capable of parental abuse - which was rather ridiculous of her, since it wasn't like she actually knew any. Seeing a couple once didn't exactly mean much. Still… "Nobody's ever said that," she said, once she'd turned this over within her mind. "Not out loud, anyway - that they didn't blame me for what I did. Not that I've told many, either...my sister knows, but not the details. Not how, or what it was like." If Thranduil had been hit with the full brunt of that memory, of her father's brains leaking out onto the pavement while she screamed drug-addled defiance into the hot summer night...yikes. She wouldn't wish that one on anyone. "It's not - look, I've got all the eloquence'v a brick. Talking about things isn't easy even when I've a mind to, which isn't often, but...are you sure Earlene wouldn't blame me? She's...well, an American might say she's seen some shit, and I don't really want to be adding to that. What I did to my da, and what happened to Liam, and just...oh, hell. Maybe it's good you can read my mind, since I can't string two words together without losing one along the way." She was still shaken, but no longer felt like she wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for the rest of eternity. "I'd figured you'd stopped mucking about in her head," Lorna went on. "By the time I met her, I mean, and it's obvious you care about her. Christ, I'm not one to judge on how people met, either - I met Liam because he and I had the same parole officer. Romance for the ages, that, but we were happier than anyone else on the bloody planet. Give that to Earlene, if you can. I'll write you a manual, if you'd like." She'd already jotted down notes, actually, figuring anybody not human who was married to one would probably need a guidebook of some sort.

Thranduil looked up at the budding trees, smiling to see that soon the forest would once again come to life. "There are those who consider violence as though it was a book on a shelf, Lorna. They look at it, they turn the pages, consider the cover, and then feel that they understand. And then there are those who lived it. Who have felt the pain of mind and body, who will never have the answers they so desperately want as to why it had to be this way, who will always try to find a way to reconcile what never should have been; whether it is evil in a family, or war, or...even what this 9/11 was for Earlene. If you ever asked her, would she kill in order to stop what had happened in her city, to those she cared for, I do not wonder at what her answer would be. What she would be willing to do, to have had a different outcome, is one of the defining aspects of her world view. She would not judge you, just as she did not judge me, for some of the choices I felt I had to make when I first met her. And I already told you, that I have killed. I cannot count how many I have killed, and each one of them deserved to die. I realize that your world now thinks of these matters differently; they do not understand that some do not deserve to live. Whence I came, this was not the case. We saw what happened, when evil was allowed to endure, and we paid a great price for some of our hesitation."

 _Who will never have the answers they so desperately want as to why it had to be this way, who will always try to find a way to reconcile what never should have been_...Jesus, wasn't that the heart of it. How often she'd wondered why as a child, before she got old enough to realize that knowing 'why' wasn't going to actually change a damn thing. "There's plenty'v us still that think some deserve to die, but why, and how, and who gets to kill them...that's up in the air. My da deserved it and then some, but children aren't meant to kill their parents in this world. Even if the parent deserves it. And see, there's people I know who've accepted that it was an accident - prison staff, my parole officer - but what sticks with everyone is that I'm not sorry. Why _should_ I be? He was bloody worthless, I mean _completely_ bloody worthless. None'v my brothers or sister even wanted to handle disposing of his corpse."

It wouldn't surprise her in the least if Earlene proved willing to kill someone if it would retroactively prevent 9/11, and she doubted anyone at all could fault that. "9/11...it changed things. It changed everything, really. If Earlene found someone who could prevent it by dying, I'm sure there'd be a few thousand people willing to join her in it. It's - it'd be a noble cause, if you like. Not like cracking your da's head open like an egg because you're too high to know your own strength." That sound would never, ever leave her, though she'd got over it by now. More or less. "And whatever she had to do, if she had to kill somebody, I doubt she'd enjoy it." She'd do it because she had to, not because she _wanted_ to.

"You may be correct, Lorna, and you may be very mistaken...neither of us could ever know unless Earlene truly were to do such a thing. But as one who has seen her mind...I believe that if my father were here today, he would have much to fear from my wife. And I think she would enjoy what she wished to do to him to a shocking degree. But fortunately that theory never will be tested, as I cannot imagine how fate could ever bring them together.

When I was brought to my father's dead body, I dug his grave with my hands and my sword. I suppose to some I looked like a dutiful son who bore up under great sorrow. No one could have known that the finest experience in my young life was heaving the last clods of dirt that took away the sight of him from me." Thranduil shook his head at the memory, and looked at her with a smile. "I know why you are not sorry, because I know why I am not sorry. You are strong, Lorna, though perhaps life would have been kinder if you had not been forced to become so. And I am strong, as well. Who can say, what either of us would have been, without these things that shaped us? For here we are. We have endured, while they are gone. Take comfort in your resilience, and know that you have friends here, who stand by you." Briefly reaching over, he laid his hand over hers just for a moment, before withdrawing it.

Lorna had a number of friends in Baile. What she _didn't_ have were friends who would actually get it, even if she dared tell them. While she had a difficult time picturing someone as poised and professional as Earlene resorting to physical violence, she was quite sure the woman wouldn't half-ass it if she ever did. Maybe Lorna should teach her how to throw a punch, just to be safe. She wouldn't come to any danger in Lasg'len, but if she ever had to take a day trip for some reason, it was a good skill to have. She couldn't imagine Thranduil or Thanadir straight-up lamping someone out; their fighting skills were probably much more lethal, and not something you'd want to use in modern Earth unless you fancied prison.

What she didn't want to admit – and what he was going to know anyway, damn telepathy – was that once she'd got out of prison, she'd hunted down her father's grave and peed on it at midnight. Yeah, it was juvenile as all hell, but it was also quite cathartic – and something she'd kept to herself until now. Oops. "That's what Liam and my sister'v told me – I'm here, and my da's not." Sadly, Earlene was here and her _friends_ were not, and wasn't that bloody tragic. Losing everyone you cared about...but then, Lorna understood that. She'd just had far fewer people to lose. "My gran said outliving the bastards is the best form'v revenge. I wish you and Earlene could'v met her. She'd...well, she'd explain everything either'v you would ever need to know about the Irish. Provided you could understand her, anyway."

She had to pause briefly to rescue her braid from a gorse bush that apparently wanted to keep it. "And that's a thing. If you and Thanadir are to meet up with the people you need to talk to if you're going to get a legal identity, you've both got to be able to understand broad Irish. We've all been muting our accents around Earlene, and I've stomped on mine around you and Thanadir. If for whatever reason you can't read someone's mind too far outside the forest, you might have a hell'v a time understanding them. Mine's so heavy naturally that when Liam and I went and knocked about Britain, I had eight people ask me if I knew how to speak English."

At this point in the conversation, Thranduil unobtrusively turned around so that their steps were returning to the house. "I can understand you regardless, because of what you have already mentioned. Thoughts are less about words than they are emotion and impressions; I do not have to know the language of another to see the condition of their hearts or perceive their intentions. Thanadir and Earlene are very intelligent, and will learn to adjust, though I cannot say how quickly. And because I can communicate with them, we will all at least manage until they gain proficiency. It is a strange thing, to have another hear your thoughts. While I am very old, I remember well what this was like when it was new to me. There are great advantages, and great annoyances, but we have learned to make do. And there is another thing. While I cannot help hearing what you actively think, I do have the ability to look deeper. And I would never do so, without your explicit consent or wishes. This happens between Earlene and I, but she and I understandably are in a different circumstance with each other. I hope that our discussion leaves you feeling a little better. And I want you to know also that I am sorry for those you have lost. I am ashamed to say that when Earlene first explained what happened to her city, I was not as sympathetic as I should have been because...all I could think about was that I too have lost many, and still endured. My thinking was corrected, later on. One of the unfortunate things about the sum of my life is that sometimes it is harder for me, to feel sympathy for others. And I have not liked this about myself, because when I fail others in this way, I am behaving no better than my father. I keep trying to do better. It is all any of us can do, really. There is always more to learn, no matter how many or few years we are granted."

"I'll try to teach you both something like an Irish accent," Lorna said. "You'll need one, if you're to talk to people outside the village." She had no idea what she'd call the accent they both used, but it wasn't Irish as she'd ever heard it, and they didn't need to stand out any more than they already would simply by dint of appearance. "And I can't say I'm near so freaked, now. Honestly, I'm probably always going to find it a bit odd, but that's humanity for you," she admitted. "The idea'v telepathy...it's not easy to reconcile, not for someone as bloody skeptical as I've always been. It sounds like it could be a nightmare, if you couldn't control it."

She tripped over a root and swore in Irish, righting herself with another curse. "And...I get that, actually. When I was younger, and considerably more'v a shit, I'd hear people say they'd lost someone, and some terrible part'v me would think, _I watched my husband die, what the fuck're you complaining about?_ It took me a long while to get past being such an arsehole, and I'm bloody ashamed that I ever was." She hesitated. "Look, I'm not - I'm not a good person. Not really. But I've got family and friends, right, and they make me _want_ to be, so...I do what I can. When I can. Like you say, it's all we can do." Part of her hated the fact that he'd know all about the depths of the temper she'd worked so hard to subsume in the last eleven years, but part of her was obscurely relieved. Gran had been the only one who really knew, and Gran was dead.

And it helped that she didn't actually live in Lasg'len. Once Mick was better, she'd go back to her thoroughly un-supernatural village, and come back to visit on her own terms when she had days off from the pub. It wasn't as though she had anything else to do; now that her nieces and nephews were in their teens, they didn't need Aunt Lorna to look after them anymore.

Thranduil grinned down at her, as the house came into view through the trees. "I like you, Lorna. And before my smile irritates you, it is there because you are not considering that precious few are inherently what you call _good_. Good is what happens because of what you just said; choices that we make on behalf of those who mean more to us than we mean to ourselves. Thank you, for being willing to converse with me," he said, as he reached to courteously open the door for her.

Lorna beat what Earlene thought was an understandable yet slightly unexpected hasty retreat through the house and to the front door. Earlene had no chance to extricate herself from her laptop to see her off; before she knew it Thranduil had followed the swiftly moving woman as apologies and promises to return soon with materials for Thanadir floated through the air. Earlene and Thanadir exchanged helpless looks with each other. For all that she had watched this ancient elf from a distance these last many days, their sudden mutual discomfiture and state of linguistic difficulty had forged an instant bond between them.

Thranduil returned to the room to see the two closest to him in all the world more or less huddled together, trying to sort out their inner emotions over the latest news from the Office of the Taoiseach. Pairs of vaguely sad eyes looked up at him, uncertain what to say or do. He held out his hand to Earlene, indicating by gestures that he wanted to take the laptop from her; she compliantly closed the cover and handed it to him. He returned it to the counter, where he picked up the television remote and walked back to the sofa, indicating that he wanted to sit between them. Neither Earlene or Thanadir had taken their eyes off of him, as he lowered himself to sit. He placed his arm around Earlene's shoulder, and clapped his other hand briefly on the seneschal's shoulder in a gesture of approval. He smiled with appreciation at both of them, before they were distracted.

" _Space, the Final Frontier..._ " Earlene leaned into her husband as she smiled, feeling that somehow, maybe, this might all work out in the end.


	18. Chapter 18

Notes: The Oath of Fëanor used in this chapter was translated into Sindarin by Xandarien, an expert in this language who runs the website sindarinlessons dot weebly dot com. She prefers to be credited by referencing the pseudonym she uses on her site.

"The Oath of Fëanor: Be he foe or friend, be he dirty or clean, family or Morgoth or bright Vala, Elf or Maia or After-born, man yet unborn upon Middle Earth..."

the rest of the Oath is not cited here, but can be appreciated in all is glory at this link: www dot elvish dot org/gwaith/mrezac dot htm . I'm sorry for the crappy URL but this site forces me to do that...

The Oath was spoken in Quenya, not Sindarin, and it was a lucky chance to know someone with the language skills to accurately render it into Thranduil's tongue.

* * *

As Earlene watched Star Trek with nostalgia washing over her, she allowed her thoughts to drift. It wasn't like she hadn't almost memorized these episodes, that to her were a very fond reminder of childhood days spent watching reruns. Though television was not particularly indulged in at their home, there were a few things that everyone in the family agreed on, and classic science fiction was one of them. Even her brother loved Captain Kirk. Back at a time when truly positive women's role models were still hard to find, Lieutenant Uhuru and Nurse Chapel were cut from different cloth...give or take the ridiculous miniskirts. _Cut from different cloth_...with bulging eyes, Earlene realized that they had never addressed the subject of clothing that belonged to this world, for the elves. The more time she spent with them, the more their tunics and leggings and buttoned robes seemed completely normal...but if they were to be invited to a party at the pub, it wouldn't do. She would have to absolutely not forget to bring this up, after they were done with the television for awhile.

And it would be time, soon, to think about their meals for lunch and dinner; she did not have to ask, to know that Thranduil had reached the limits of his patience with her desire for sweets. But something about the day had knocked the proverbial wind out of her sails. There were few things that seemed worse than needing to cook when the enthusiasm was not there...and right now it truly had gone away. With a great sigh of which she was not even aware, she leaned into the warmth of her husband's shoulder, ruminating over her choices. There was a chicken in the refrigerator that could be roasted; that was simple enough. And surely there was rice; that and a cabbage salad...and with the oven on, she could also roast more vegetables. It would probably be an abuse of the oven space, but that would make a nice meal. Perhaps she could even sneak in baked apples without the King protesting too much. In pastry, with cinnamon sauce...

With a gasp she felt herself whisked upward and re-seated in his lap; her body was held against his tightly, with her legs stretched out. Before she could think, her ear was being nipped at not hard enough to hurt but in a manner that definitely gained her attention. Turning to look at his face in surprise, she saw his smile.

 _You are thinking about food so loudly that I am having difficulty concentrating. And when your mind arrived at dessert, it became clear that the situation was hopeless._

 _I am sorry, my...I am sorry, Thranduil._ A series of soft and discreet kisses placed on the back of her neck caused her to suspect that food was not the only reason he was having difficulty concentrating. He seemed to realize he was behaving counterproductively, because he stopped. And it was only then that she realized that the blissful warmth surrounding her chilly feet was because they had been on the seneschal's lap, and he held them with his hands. Her eyes widened in complete embarrassment as her body tensed, and her cheeks flushed, wondering how she could ever apologize for this.

 _Relax, meluieg. Your feet were cold; I asked him to do this. He does not mind._

 _Your seneschal is being a foot warmer for me, and he does not mind? How is this not disrespectful to him?_

 _Because I said it is not. Earlene, you must understand, as we...proceed...toward learning to function somewhat outside of my realm, Thanadir will be looking after your well-being second only to me. He will guard you, care for you, and see to your needs. Just as he did at one time for Alassëa, just as he did for Legolas when he was very young. To an extent he may even be your friend, but do not forget that in his heart he lives to care for anything I cherish._

For many minutes, she sat completely bewildered while she tried to pay attention to the episode, though her body had relaxed. To be truthful, Thanadir's warm hands felt wonderful, though it was still...odd. She realized she might never fully comprehend the relationship of these two ellyn, which so far exceeded the time of her presence in their lives that it was unfathomable. Finally, with a sound that was something like a snort, she mentally shrugged as the sarcastic thought escaped. _Next I will find out he gives foot rubs, too._

A rumble of humor occurred beneath her as a foot was lifted, and fingers that knew how to apply expert pressure began to massage it. With great effort, she stifled a gasp concerning how good it felt, as her cheeks burned and turned bright red. Shaking with suppressed laughter, Thranduil embraced her and kissed her once again, on the cheek. _Earlene, allow yourself to enjoy this. He does not mind._

 _So you say,_ she said, feeling completely embarrassed.

Thranduil pressed the pause button, as Thanadir turned to her and smiled. "I am asked to tell you that I do not mind," he said carefully.

"And that is the truth?" Earlene asked, still not believing.

"Earlene, if my King asks, and if you like this, I am happy."

Thranduil leaned forward. "Now do you believe me?"

"I cannot win. Yes, I believe you. And...this is not fair."

"That is not logical, Earlene," deadpanned Thanadir.

Earlene froze, as Thranduil quit trying to suppress his laughter and howled; he had already heard enough from Mr. Spock. He had not been this happy about his seneschal's wit in at least a thousand years.

Earlene's shoulders sagged in defeat. There were no comebacks possible. Zero. Nada. "Please press 'Play'", she begged quietly. "Please."

"Only if there are no sweets served at lunch," he said through the laughing.

"I will do anything you ask. No sweets at lunch." _Please._

To her immense relief, the episode resumed. With a sigh and complete capitulation, she relaxed into Thranduil's arms and occasional soft moans betrayed how much she appreciated the foot rub.

They must have liked the show more than they let on, because Earlene woke to see that they were near the end of the third episode. She had not meant to fall asleep...

 _But do you feel better, Earlene?_ _Rested?_ She looked down to see that she had been covered in a blanket, and that her wrapped feet were still held by Thanadir, who was raptly watching a diatribe from Dr. McCoy. Thanadir laughed softly when "He's dead, Jim" was spoken. Blinking, she nodded up at her husband, while realizing that in an incredibly short time, the seneschal already understood the humor. _I knew he wasn't stupid, but..._

 _But you were not prepared for just how quickly some elves can learn?_

She nodded again. _Why am I even learning your language, when he will be fluent in English a week from now?_

 _Because, Earlene, he is not the only one who dwells in my Halls. Not all of them have his gifts. I do not know that you will reach fluency quickly; it may take a very long time. But what will you do when you find yourself alone among those that do not know one word of English, and will lack the ability or the interest to do what Thanadir has done? You must learn on account of them. Thanadir is exceptional, and not representative of all of my people._

 _Oh._

Just then the episode ended. "I must prepare food, Thranduil," she said, though she was summoning her self-discipline to move, after having been so pampered. With a deep breath, she pushed herself upright, and started to think about sandwiches. And dinner and..."You and Thanadir need clothes. You told me days and days ago to show you pictures...Google 'Irish Men's Clothes', and that should give more than a good idea, unless you will let me buy you Guinness t shirts and jeans and be done with it. They wear a lot of knitted sweaters here, and I've no skill at making anything like that whatsoever. Trousers, tweed jacket, simple shirts or t shirts...even your breeches could actually work if they weren't so tight fitting, and perhaps if they laced up the side." With that she marched into the kitchen, but paused first, turning back around. "Thank you, both, for the care you showed me. I enjoyed it more than I want to say and...thank you." She was not going to lose her manners if she could help it. Not waiting for a reply, she turned on some music, and lost herself in several different recipes.

When the food for both meals was prepared, lunch was served, and she could sit down at last, she looked out the window hopefully to see that the fog had never really lifted. It made her feel cold even though she wasn't, just like in New York. There was so much to do, and she felt like she was falling behind. Blessedly, Thranduil's strategy with her former legal firm had worked brilliantly, and her emails suddenly had plummeted to astoundingly manageable levels...which was fine with her. There were moments when she still felt surprised...surprised that she was falling into another world, the likes of which she never could have imagined, and that it would be one so compelling that the abandonment of a former way of life would follow without hesitation or a backward glance. With her legal obligations completed, she began looking through her computer for things she'd bookmarked.

 _I should try to speak more of this language aloud_ , she reasoned, finding a longer text someone had contributed. In a soft voice, she took a deep breath and tried, though the going was slow. "Gwest Fëanor. No e gûd egor vellon, no e gwaur egor buig, Nost Morgoth egor Valan 'lân, Edhel egor Rodon egor Abonnen, Adan dan ú-onnen am Ennorath..."

The next thing she knew she was pulled roughly from her chair and was being shaken, hard, by Thranduil, whose eyes were blazing with anger. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THOSE WORDS," he shouted at her, enraged.

Frozen with panic, she had no idea what to do; she was completely stunned. On every level she knew that struggling would be useless; he was more powerful than ten of her. For reasons she did not understand, she went limp in his grip. The only word that escaped her lips was, "Please..." Something shifted in his eyes, and he abruptly released her, causing her to clumsily drop down to the floor. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the house, slamming the door behind him and was gone. Earlene had more or less landed on her hands and knees, completely unhurt but confounded, and remained there in a state of deep shock. Her lips parted, she tried to process what had just happened. Thanadir came to her, and knelt down. Slowly, she met the seneschal's eyes. "Thanadir," she pleaded, "what did I do? I do not understand."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, as he helped her up.

"No, but I am...fearful. He was very angry."

He brought her to the sofa, to sit down. "What you were reading is something very bad, to elves. I do not know enough words, to tell you about this."

"I did not know, Thanadir, I am very sorry. I only wanted to practice."

"I know, Earlene. You know very little about us. Maybe the computer?" He rose and brought her laptop to her, and typed in 'Oath of Fëanor,' handing her the search results...and she quickly found something that would explain. As she read, her face fell. Though she did not remotely understand everything about this, she could see some of why he...lost it.

"Thanadir, in your old world, where was Thranduil from? Where was he born?"

"Doriath, in Beleriand."

She looked back at the computer one more time. _Doriath had been destroyed because of a connection to this...Oath of Whoever He Was_. A number of things went through her head. _He did not strike me, though he must have been angry enough to do so_ , she thought with shame, as she remembered her own actions. _I have no idea what to do. Leave? Go to town for the afternoon? But then I have to pretend to be happy and sociable when I am feeling neither...and besides, that is childish._ Staring blankly at the screen, she sighed, talking to herself. _He is your husband, and he is hurt. Go find him._ Rising, she went to her room, and put on a warm coat. And a hat, and insulated boots. Looking out, her heart sank a little. There was still fog, and it made her feel fearful. Lastly, she took her smartphone. _I guess we will see what that compass app does, after all_ , she reasoned.

Thanadir stood. "You should stay here, Earlene. You will lose your way."

She smiled wanly. "Probably. What I did hurt him, Thanadir. I must try to find Thranduil. Though I did not know, it was still my doing, and I love him." Tearing her gaze away, she summoned her New York attitude, and walked toward the woods in spite of the heavy mists. And unseen by her, Thanadir silently followed after, the moment she entered the woods. This time she was determined, if possible, to take the path to his Halls. _If it were me, I would have wanted to take my ball and go home_ , she thought. Keeping her phone in her hand, she paid close attention to the compass. _I wish I could use Google Earth in here_ , _but that won't happen with no signal_ , she lamented to herself. The fog was not so pea soup thick as earlier, and she was confident that she was on the same track she had taken with him at other times; having a reasonably good memory for natural landforms. Earlene disliked very much how every sound was devoured by the mists, except for the occasional drop of condensation that fell from a tree. Even though she had no elven skills of stealth, her own footfalls barely made a noise. It was oppressive, and weighed on her sensibilities, though the strong anxiety that would have come to her prior to his healing of her mind did not manifest. Ten minutes later, she was still certain that she was on the correct path, but her compass was a disaster zone. At one point she stopped, staring at it helplessly as the compass rose spun in a lazy circle for 720 degrees, with no intention whatsoever of stopping its behavior. Clicking it off, she shoved the phone in her pocket and continued on, pulling her coat more tightly around her. _One small step for app developers, one giant leap for elven enchantments_ , she quipped to herself. And not much further on, she was descending the hill, to the bridge, and there was the Gate. _Well, I didn't make a complete hash of at least one thing._

Standing in front of the towering construct, she frowned. "Please, my Lord, may I enter?" she whispered. There was no response, but a tiny smile came over her when the massively heavy door opened of its own accord, just enough to admit her. She stepped inside, and the door swung shut. Standing still, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the much dimmer lighting before walking on. And only now did she realize how many pathways branched out from her present location. She could see where she wished to go, but not which way to choose, exactly. Six paths, and she was fairly certain that the second or third was the one she wanted? _Three is the number that thou shalt count, and the number that thou shalt count is THREE_...flitted through her thoughts, realizing that this level of mental silliness could only mean that she was nervous, intimidated, or both. She started out, but a short time later the path descended, looking too familiar. _Well, now I know how to find the dungeon._ Sighing, she retraced her steps. _Monty Python lied, and now I'll try TWO._

This seemed more promising, and began to climb up higher, toward where she knew his throne was. But then this one divided as well, and she wasn't certain...the right one seemed more familiar though. With no small sense of triumph she saw that it approached his throne, and that he was seated on it. _Husband or not, this is not easy._ Swallowing hard, she approached to the base of it with her eyes cast down, and knelt, waiting. The silence went on, and not knowing what else to do, she spoke to him in her thoughts.

 _I came to apologize, i Aran nîn. I am very sorry. I understand a little, now, why you were angry. Please, I did not know what I was reading, did not know what the words were about, in my ignorance. I love you, Thranduil, and wish very much that I had known better. Please, forgive me._ Still there was silence, and she did not know what else to do. _Should I put myself back in the cell?_ she wondered.

"That will not be necessary," she heard, as she felt herself being lifted to her feet. She had not heard him descend the steps, but what else was new? "Gin díhenon, Earlene." He raised her chin so that he could kiss her forehead, frowning in amusement to see the hat she wore. It was only then that she realized, she had not changed into elven-made clothes before coming here. With a soft groan of embarrassment, she hung her head. He pulled her to him, embracing her. _I do not care what you are wearing, meluieg. That pales against you caring enough to make your way here alone, in spite of your fears, to speak to me._

Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her head against his chest. _I should return, Thanadir probably thinks I am lost._

 _He does not, as he is standing ten feet behind you. But returning would be just as well. I have a few matters I should check on, while I am here. But Earlene, before you depart..._ she felt herself lifted and kissed soundly on the mouth. When he finally released her, her eyes were moist.

 _I love you very much, my Lord._

 _And I you, meluieg. We will speak more when I return. I would also apologize to you, for my behavior. I hope you can allow me a little more time._

She nodded, still feeling his kiss on her lips.

"Thanadir, togo Earlene na i vâr." (take Earlene to the house)

Somewhat numbly, she took the arm Thanadir offered, looking back at Thranduil longingly. She saw that he smiled. _Go with him, Earlene. All is well between us._

Turning away, she allowed herself to be led off without further resistance.

As Thranduil looked down at his booted feet, he sighed, and cared for his duty of checking on his subjects. Meeting very briefly with quite a few of the elves, he could see that they were on the cusp...it would be a matter of a few days, before a substantial number were restored from fading. He'd helped the four in the kitchens, with some of his own vigor. Of all of them, these were critical, since he'd have no means by which to feed the greater numbers of them, unless the cooks could return to their duties. It was out of the question, to ask Earlene to manage any more than she was already doing. Smiling to see that all was proceeding as well as he could have hoped, he withdrew.

He slowly made his way toward the gates, when an impulse came over him. With guilt weighing on his heart, his steps took him down the winding passages until he at last came to the door of the same cell in which he'd punished Earlene. While he could not realistically lock himself in, given that he held the power of releasing any door in his kingdom, he nonetheless entered and pulled the door shut behind him. For long minutes he stood, looking through the bars, absorbing what it felt like to be held inside here. In all his long years he had never been imprisoned, even for a moment. He walked to the stone bench in back, and saw the same blanket just as she had left it, when he'd brought her out. Taking it in his hands, he sat down, still staring at the cell door, and gave way to weeping.

When they were halfway back, she stopped. "Thanadir, tirio," (look) she said, bringing out her phone and showing him the compass, smiling. The old elf grinned as he too watched the dial turn in aimless, lazy circles before she put it away and they walked on. They were back in what seemed like moments, and she added more wood to the stove as soon as they entered. Removing her heavy outer clothes, she regarded him. "Thank you, for following, so I did not lose my way, Your Excellency."

He smiled and inclined his head, looking at her searchingly. "Earlene. You can read our letters? The Tengwar?"

Her face fell a little as she shook her head. "Only a very few letters. I wanted to wait until I learned more Sindarin."

"No," he said. "You cannot practice reading this way; there is very little on the computer. That is why you chose i 'west Fëanor (the Oath of Fëanor); I see already what is there. Almost nothing."

With a sigh, she realized he was right. Probably an entire library of Sindarin writing waited for her in his Halls, but it would not matter at all until she learned the script.

"Geliathon, Thanadir." (I will learn, Thanadir). Looking at the clock, she judged that she had about an hour before she needed to begin preparing the rest of dinner in earnest. Or, she could work on the pastry crust and prepare the vegetables for roasting and salad now, and then buy herself a bigger block of time after. "I will learn after I work on the food," she smiled, setting the kettle on to heat. Bringing out the food processor, she measured the dry ingredients for crust, prepared iced water and scrambled egg and acidifier, and at the last minute brought out the butter. With a frown, she realized this was another reason to keep the refrigerator running...sometimes ingredients needed to be very cold. A few pulses later, she had her dough, which she swiftly removed and divided into thirds, rolling the sections into circles that she then placed on plastic wrap, stacked and returned well-wrapped to the refrigerator.

Thanadir watched her with rapt attention. "Teach me the names of these things, Earlene," he said, gesturing all around the kitchen. Her time peeling and chopping vegetables was made vastly more entertaining by naming objects large and small. It added to her fun, when she tried to recall multiple names for things, like "spigot" and "tap". And some of his queries impressed her. When Thranduil approached, seeing them inside through the large glass windows, it was to find his wife with a look of twisted concentration on her face while his seneschal stood nearby, pointing at a fork.

 _What on earth?_ he thought, as he opened the door to enter the silent room.

"TINES!" Earlene exclaimed triumphantly. "They are called tines," she added in a much more modulated tone of voice. Wiping her hands on her apron, she quickly walked to her husband to embrace him, but was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Pardon me, meluieg," he said. "Lorna has returned."

Thanadir looked up brightly, returning the fork to the drawer as Thranduil seemed to vanish in a blink, answering the door. "I don't think I will ever get used to that," Earlene muttered, though she smiled. Lorna was shown inside, where Thanadir stood at a respectful distance, looking happily eager to learn what these ribbon thingys she wished him to make were. Earlene had to admit, she was a little curious herself, not ever having heard of them. Much to her surprise, Thanadir spoke first.

"Hello Lorna, would you like tea?"

Earlene beamed; she thought the seneschal charming beyond words, with his soft brown eyes and indescribable accent, and suppressed a smile. There was no getting around how different he appeared when he elected to smile and not be completely caught up in matters of propriety. _So...cute_ , she thought, _like a cherub flew out of a painting_... knowing that her urge to pinch his cheeks would be permanently out of the question.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows but commented instead, "Lorna, Thanadir, please excuse us as I must speak privately with Earlene. I can spare enough space in my thoughts to help you communicate if need be. Though, I believe that if you speak slowly and carefully, all will be well. Thanadir is learning very quickly." Smiling, he ushered his wife to the bedroom, and closed the door behind them, leaving a slightly baffled Lorna to decide about tea.

Thranduil did not lose a moment, after the door closed, placing Earlene to sit on the edge of the bed, where she sat looking up at him, feeling a twinge of nervousness. And the nervousness transformed to complete surprise, when he knelt on the floor in front of her, took her hands in his, and bowed his head before speaking in much the same manner as she had done earlier before his throne.

 _Earlene, I am so sorry, for the anger I displayed. I realized even as I stormed off through the forest that I had not been fair to you, that there was no means by which you could have understood what the Oath of Fëanor was. I had become too upset, and was on the verge of losing control of myself. I left because I feared I would strike you. That I handled you so roughly was bad enough, and I beg that you can forgive me. I can only plead that much in the same way as your own experience in New York, the Oath of Fëanor arguably brought about the destruction of my world. I felt doubly bad, to realize that I was experiencing the same feelings you must have had, when my careless words about...your past...angered you in the same way._

 _When I returned to my Halls, I was trying to...think. But in among this, I heard all your thoughts. I felt ashamed that you could see clearly in your heart what had happened, and that you would place concern for me above your own interests. I should have gone to you, and yet I could not move. It was only when you spoke to me, with the love and humility that I should have shown you, that my dark thoughts and doubts were broken_. He rested his forehead against her knees, not moving.

 _I understand, Thranduil. We come from very different places and have much to learn about each other and...of course I forgive you._ His hair spilled down over her knees like the palest spun gold, and she could not resist stroking his head. _How am I supposed to kiss you when you are down there, and I am up here? I am not strong enough to pick you up._

Much to the relief of both of them, she was soon seated on his lap, as many long kisses of tender reassurance were exchanged.

 _I would like very much to do more right now, meluieg, but I fear that this is not the time for such enjoyments, with a guest in the house._ He cupped her breast suggestively, over the fabric of her jumper. _I hope when we are alone, later..._

A hungry kiss that concluded with a soft bite to his lower lip left no doubt as to her answer.

Lorna quirked an eyebrow at the retreating couple, shaking her head. Elves. They weren't human; she ought to expect them to be a bit odd. "I'd love some tea, Thanadir," she said, slowly and carefully, doing her best to squash her accent. "I've brought craft supplies." She didn't normally carry a purse; what she had now was her gran's old embroidered knitting-bag, fetched on a brief trip home. It had yarn, and half a dozen sets of knitting needles, and several rolls of satin ribbon in various colors. A Ziploc bag of thread-spools and a packet of needles poked out of the top. His hands were so much larger than hers that she wasn't sure just how well he'd take to this at first, but he'd get there.

Thanadir happily scuttled around the kitchen, retrieving clean mugs and tea bags before setting the kettle on the stove. The water boiled in a hurry, given that it had hardly cooled off from Earlene's tea, and moments later Thanadir served them and seated himself at what he hoped was a polite distance from Lorna. "Show me, please?" he asked carefully, looking at Lorna a great deal as if he feared that being near her might somehow break her. Her very small hands somewhat fascinated him; he was not entirely sure how she could manage to do anything with them.

Thanadir must have been taking lessons in making tea, because this was a surprisingly good cup. Lorna sipped as she laid out her materials on the table - long strips of white satin ribbon, along with needles and thread. "Okay, watch me," she said, taking up one of the strips. She could make these quite fast by now, but she went slowly, giving him a chance to see each step. Cutting the ribbon into smaller strips, she folded a small section created the first petal, which she stitched with white ribbon and pulled the thread tight to give it shape. That was the easy part; she repeated the process eight times, and then threaded her needle with a much longer strand. The stitchwork and knots had to remain at the base of the flower as she attached each petal, so as to not be visible, and the tension of the thread couldn't be too tight or too loose - otherwise it was either lumpy or falling apart.

She'd made hundreds of the bloody things eleven years ago, when she'd first met her gran, and they'd found a home in every village wedding since then. Once you got the hang of it, it was a bit like knitting: it took concentration, but not very much, and there was something oddly Zen about it. A good way to take the mind off things it shouldn't be dwelling on, be they anger or grief or depression, and while they were simple little things, they were also lovely. "There, see?" she asked, setting the rose before Thanadir. "Would you like to watch another one, or try it yourself?" Christ, muting her accent was harder than it ought to be. She probably sounded mental.

"I would like to try," he said. "Stop me if I do a mistake." (Which came out as MISS take, but Lorna elected to ignore that part). Reaching for the needle, he threaded it with rapt concentration and reached for the first strip of ribbon. Completing the first stage, he held it up for Lorna's approval. "This is more...fun...than when I make clothes," he said happily.

"That's good," she said, taking another strip for herself. "Better than I did, my first time out the gate." Would he understand that? He'd work it out, even if the vernacular was confusing. "These are simple. They do not take long to finish." It was the closest she could come to explaining 'instant gratification'; hopefully, he'd get what she meant, more or less. "You make clothes?" Elves almost certainly had nothing resembling a modern sewing machine, unless it was the old, foot-pedal driven sort Gran had. Lorna would just bet this was more fun than trying to put an entire outfit together by hand. (She had never admitted to anyone that the one time she'd tried to use Gran's, she'd stitched over her fingers. She stuck to knitting after that.)

"Yes. Many clothes. But it is...much work. Older elves can often not sleep, so...many….what is the word, for this?" As he mimicked the act of sewing.

"Stitches," said Lorna helpfully. "You stitch the clothes? With only a needle?" she asked.

"Yes," Thanadir replied. It was impossible to say if his expression meant that he felt proud or vaguely depressed.

That was it - she was going to borrow Mick's van and pick up Gran's sewing machine after work tomorrow. It wouldn't be too hard to heft down to...wherever the hell the Elves actually lived, and it didn't need electricity. "I've got something that might make your life easier," she said. "I'll bring it from my house in my village. I don't use it, and it makes sewing things much faster." She had no way to explain exactly what a sewing machine did, since even she didn't know all the terms for the various bits.

Not too much later, Thanadir presented Lorna with his first finished creation, waiting for her evaluation.

Quite honestly, part of her was a little jealous. Her first attempt had been an utter hash, but this one was as perfect as Gran had ever made. "Brilliant," she said. "It's beautiful."

Thanadir beamed with what Earlene would have described as "utter cuteness", just as Thranduil and Earlene emerged from the room. While Thranduil moved to the tea kettle, Earlene saw and was instantly magnetized to the craft creations.

"Those are so pretty," she gasped. "I'm completely awful at most things like this. I can knit potholders and scarves, and I dreamed one day of learning lacemaking but….everything I try to do just sort of ends up looking like the bad attempt of a six year old." Reaching down, she picked up the one Lorna had made, turning it around slowly as she admired it.

"Well, I can't say I'm any great hand at most crafts," Lorna said. "My gran taught me these, the first year I lived in Baile. Irish winters are miserable, and you've got to have some way to pass the time. She taught me how to knit, too, but sewing's beyond me. I was actually going to bring Thanadir Gran's old treadle machine - it doesn't need electricity, and sure I've no use for it. It's been gathering dust in the spare room since she died."

Earlene's eyes widened. "Just a second," as she disappeared to her room and returned, bearing a dress on a hangar. "I know you haven't seen this, but unless I am very much mistaken, Thanadir made it. His work is...let's just say that I completely appreciate this and it fits like a glove. He is astonishingly talented, at least by human standards, and I think he'd be over the moon to have one of those."

Normally, Lorna didn't have much appreciation for clothes - her own tended toward jeans and various layers of T-shirts and flannels - but this was the most gorgeous piece of clothing she'd ever seen in her life. "You made this by hand?" she asked, looking at Thanadir, who nodded with a smile. "Christ, it's a good thing you never met my gran. She'd've died'v jealousy. Yeah, you definitely need her machine. You could actually do something with it."

Thanadir, somehow managing to look completely nonplussed in the midst of their compliments, smiled kindly and only said "Thank you," as he continued to sew the flowers. Meeting Lorna's eyes, Earlene shrugged and grinned, not knowing what else to say. Thanadir was Thanadir.

Lorna managed to stifle a laugh, but just barely. "I've got yarn, Earlene, if you ever feel like knitting. Gran was hoarding all sorts for fifty years before I met her, and I've still only managed to make a dent in it. She embroidered, too, which is another thing I can't bloody do. I just wind up with holes in my fingers."

"I would love some of the yarn...as long as it isn't crazy amounts. You can see the size of this place, and I sort of had an ambition to keep it on the clutter-free side if I could. But I gave away lots of my stuff before I moved here, just so that I wouldn't import a lifetime's worth of items. Downsizing. People seem to like potholders in cheerful colors but really, anything. There are always the scarves, and I'd think they'd be enjoyed around here. It has to be at least as cold as New York was.

"I hear you on the space," Lorna said, sorting through her ribbon. "I've got Gran's old cottage, and it's about this size. I came to Baile with next to nothing, though, so what I mostly had to sort through were her things. My sister's got most'v it in that cavern she calls a garage." She dug out the rest of her rolls, laying them out on the table. "You're right - scarves're popular here, and hats. They're not hard - I could probably teach you to make one in an afternoon. Things'll settle down to let me once the village has thrown you two your party. Theoretically, it's the day after tomorrow, provided Mairead's cake cooperates. I had a hell'v a time getting her to make one without telling her why, but the only person I've ever met who baked better than her was Gran."

"We are looking forward to it...I guess we can communicate about the details by email, if we don't see each other first here or in town?" Privately, Earlene was thinking of sci fi titles like When Worlds Collide and hoping that something the ellyn already owned would make for satisfactory clothing. Though, she didn't get the impression this was exactly a formalwear occasion...or… "I just want to check too, are 'regular' clothes OK for this? We don't want to be more of a spectacle than, ah,..." she smiled, trailing off while shrugging her shoulders, remembering the time she'd completely botched an invitation when she was still in law school, and had ended up renting a gown for a party that was casual wear only. She'd had to live down the moniker "Duchess Earlene" for the rest of the academic year, and had no intention of repeating that mistake again. Ever.

"Oh, it's anything goes, with these," Lorna said. "Some'll dress up, but that's a bit'v a relative term in a little village. Usually means clothes you've actually ironed, but you can bet there'll be old ladies in their Sunday best, too. There's not much standing on ceremony in a place like this." She was pretty sure Mick had an iron, and she was damn well going to teach him how to use it between now and then (and ignore the fact that when she'd first tried, she'd scorched both shirt and ironing board, and Mairead had shouted at her as soon as she stopped laughing long enough to do it).

"Lorna," Earlene asked tentatively, "I need brutal honesty. I dropped the ball a bit, on the issue of modern clothing for Thranduil and Thanadir. She gestured to Thranduil's black buckskin breeches (thankfully not his closest fitting pair, that left zero to anyone's imagination when his tunic was not hanging below his...endowments), calf high black buckskin boots, and fitted dark grey tunic that hung down to his upper thighs and was belted. "I pretty much am doomed if I can't come up with at least ordinary trousers, I'm thinking? I've become very used to seeing their clothes, but I don't want to be putting on a Renaissance Faire at the pub. I really want them to seem as ordinary as possible when I know perfectly well….they aren't. I know how most Irishmen dress...do you think just modern-ish trousers would work? I mean, the tunic really isn't too out of the way, nor are the boots...this looks to me like a hunting outfit, perhaps minus all the tweed."

Thranduil was unusually silent, sipping at his tea as though he were not the immediate object of discussion.

Lorna pondered this. Elves were going to stand out no matter what they were wearing, but something other than leather trousers would at least help. (Leather. She'd think that would be terribly uncomfortable - Elves must not sweat.) "It'd work, yeah, but you'll have a hell'v a time finding anything that'd fit them both outside'v a decent-sized mall. Most shops wouldn't carry anything for people so tall. My boss, he's tall, but he also outweighs both these two by at least seventy pounds, so that's no good. I'll have to think about that one."

"I think the only solution is that Thanadir is going to get stuck sewing or altering so that the end result is something like trousers. At the end of the day, breeches are pants; they just need to be looser fitting. It will work out. Besides, I'd guess that within a half hour everyone will have started drinking enough to not notice anything besides pink tutus. It will all work out somehow. And, who knows, maybe I'm overthinking this. Everyone knows they are elves, so maybe elves should look like...elves. You'll have to forgive me...I came from a world where social occasions carried too much weight. Every one of them was sort of like a gladiatorial event; you had to get into the trenches and achieve victory by always being 'just so.' I haven't been used to anything different in a long time and...maybe I need to relax."

Thranduil stepped forward, and lightly placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling.

Earlene laughed. "I suppose I do not need to ask if that is a hint?" she said, looking up at him. Continuing to smile, but saying nothing, he leaned down to peck her on the cheek before returning to his tea. When his back was turned, Earlene rolled her eyes.

Privately, Lorna thought the world Earlene had come from sounded bloody awful. The thought of that kind of pressure, of having to live up to the (potentially arbitrary) expectations of people you might not even like, but whose good opinion you might need...she couldn't blame Earlene for wanting to wash her hands of it, yet be unable to do it right off. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Social occasions in Ireland are usually to give us a legitimate reason for taking the day off and getting drunk. Weddings, christenings, and wakes - they're all a celebration, not a ceremony. The ceremonies get left at the church door. I'll not lie - these two'll get stared at and then some, but it's just because people're bloody curious about them."

"Hadn't thought about that...and of course you're right. You know what? To heck with it, and I might just wear the dress Thanadir made. My gran used to say, 'If they're going to stare, give them something to stare at.' "

Lorna laughed. "If your gran had met mine, I bet they'd've taken over the world. That dress is beautiful - wear it. We should make a little brooch out'v these rose - oh, good Jesus."

How she hadn't noticed this, she had no idea, but somehow, Thanadir had managed to go through well over half her ribbon. There were little roses everywhere, far more than she'd needed, but one look at him told her she had to figure out something to do with them. She had a feeling he'd look like a kicked puppy if he was disappointed.

Earlene looked over as well to see that Thanadir had been working faster than Lucy and Ethel at the candy factory. Her lips parted to see how quickly he was making the little decorations...his dexterity was phenomenal. Though if she'd thought about it, she might have figured that out from the foot rub she'd had earlier. Vaguely blushing at the memory of His Majesty the Elvenking's seneschal rubbing her toes, she piped up. "You know, those just might make fabulous little party favors. Fix each one with a pin and have every lapel, tweed cap and if need be t-shirt decorated a bit. In the states there is always some little keepsake given out at wedding celebrations…"

That was a relief and a half. "They would," Lorna said. "My gran collected that sort'v thing, every celebration she went to. God knows I've got enough ribbon." Thanadir seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself - no sense in stopping him now.

"I don't have pins," said Earlene, "but someone must. And you know, there are times I've wondered about if I ever wanted to get, er, someone, a gift. And now I'm realizing...sewing supplies," with the last two words said to Lorna in the barest whisper as she attempted to speak in code in front of Thanadir, hoping he was not listening carefully.

Lorna bit back a laugh. "Gift that keeps on giving," she whispered back, and dug through her giant bag. Lurking at the very bottom was an old, slightly ragged plastic bag filled with an assortment of pins, buttons, and possibly, for all she knew, the remains of a small child. (Her gran had kept some very odd things. She'd found a completed rat skeleton, mounted on a plaque, at the back of a cupboard.)

"Well, problem solved," Earlene said, smiling.

"You have fun with that, Thanadir," Lorna said. "I'll pick the lot up tomorrow - for now, I'd better get going. Last time Mick tried to cook actual food, he lit it on fire. Apparently he lives off his microwave when he's alone."

"I'll see you out," said Earlene, feeling vaguely horrified that anyone could eat that badly, and guilty for not offering them an invitation to dinner. But at least this once, common sense stopped her. She was already cooking far more meals for far more people than she bargained for. And while she wanted to be generous to her friends, it might be wiser to not heap her plate up to the ceiling. 'No' had been a very hard word for her to learn, and the one she'd needed to tell it to most had been herself. Walking with Lorna to the door, Earlene frowned. "Are you walking here, or do you have a bicycle?"

"I've been walking while the weather's fine," Lorna said. "If I bring the sewing machine, I'll haul it to the edge'v the forest on my motorcycle and carry it the rest'v the way." She wouldn't have wanted to bring the motorcycle into the woods even if they'd been an ordinary forest; she definitely wasn't taking it into this one.

Earlene tilted her head and pointed out to the west. "Thranduil hears you the moment you cross past that huge tree down the driveway; that's the official edge of the forest. Might as well take advantage of the wide world of telepathy; say hello in your mind and then let one of these very strong elves come get it for you. At first it was hard for me to deal with though...it's still odd, but I've found that I rely on it now. It makes about a hundred things so much easier, and if I can't do anything about it...may as well find something to enjoy. I've not once had to carry groceries into the house."

Truth be told, the telepathy still made Lorna a little uneasy. She was sure Thranduil wasn't actually going to do anything with it than be a captive audience to her random surface thoughts, but the sheer idea of it unsettled her. Maybe she'd get used to it eventually. "That's a bloody relief," was what she said aloud. "The damn thing weighs almost as much as I do. They built shite to last, back then. Thanadir'll probably have use'v it for another few centuries, I'd guess. Gran'd be happy someone's got it."

"Good, then," Earlene smiled, but then her face shifted to reflect a far more serious mood. "Look, Lorna, I don't like giving speeches but...thank you, for being my friend. For putting up with all this (she gestured all around her). Not everyone would, and plenty would have run screaming from the start of it. I had a choice to grab my bags and get out of here, and instead I stayed because I'm really damn stubborn, among other things. Even though I care less about it all the time, I still realize how completely bizarre this all is. To find a woman friend who will roll with all of what is happening here; well, that's kind of priceless."

Had Lorna been capable of blushing, she probably would have. "I'm absolute shite at speeches myself," she said, "but...honestly, I don't know why I didn't bolt. If I'd any sense, I would've, but it didn't even occur to me. This is by far the weirdest bloody situation I've ever found myself in, but it's also the most interesting, and I've not had many women friends in my adult life. I'm not used to not being judged and dismissed on sight, and that means more than you'd think." Lorna knew she could be a bit of an acquired taste, so to speak; finding someone outside of her village who didn't take any time at it was a rarity. "I know I sound like a bloody sap, but I'm damn glad I met you. Even if I did poison you," she added, wincing a little. She was never not going to be a little ashamed of that, for all it turned out all right.

Earlene laughed, before the humor left her face again. "I can understand how that episode must have felt to you but...I'm never going to look back on that day with anything but fondness. Because if all that hadn't happened…." she trailed off. "What you don't know is that right after you left, we had what I guess you'd call a huge moment of trust between us. Me, trusting him. And because of it, he came back for round two and...fixed me. All the mental problems I've dealt with, all the anxiety I couldn't control, he just...made it go away. Don't ask me how, I'll never understand it. But I had my life returned to me, that afternoon. What happened with the beer was a total accident...and because of how the day ended up, I honestly can't care about it. I don't even think about it. You know, with all due respect and all that."

Lorna really, really wanted to know how that whole 'healing' thing worked, and just exactly what it could do. If she was ever drunk enough, she might actually ask Thranduil, though she wasn't holding her breath on actually understanding the answer. Even now, having actually seen elf magic in action, she still had a hard time reconciling it. "I'm glad for it, then," she said. "That sounds like...hell, it's too bad he probably can't bottle that and sell it. Not that that lot probably need a fortune, but they'd make one. I'll see if Niamh - that's my barrister friend - can get in touch with someone who can change whatever the hell gold or jewels or whatever into money without raising any giant red flags. If you try to do it aboveboard, someone's going to get interested, and you don't want that." She paused. "Y'know, Thranduil pointed something out, when I was wigging out while walking: the three'v us have all lost some'v the things and people we cared about the most. Maybe that's why I didn't run - maybe some part'v me sensed that. I've got plenty'v friends at home, but...none'v them really get it. They couldn't."

With a slightly vacant expression, Earlene nodded her head slowly. "I need to talk to Thranduil. Not about you," she said hurriedly. "I don't want to be in others' private business. Just so you know, I would never ask him about anything you discussed, that's between the two of you. I meant that I need to talk to him about...what I'm allowed to talk about. There are some things I'm not free to say, but managing to get done what needs to be done is going to be downright convoluted if we can't speak a little more openly. I'm guessing you realize, or at the very least suspect, that I have made promises to them that run fairly deep. While I don't want it to weird you out, I have sworn my loyalty to him as a ruler, all other things aside. He's not just my husband, he's also my King. I'm sorry, I know that word is like poison around here, and I won't ever speak it again if I can help it. I'm fine with it, and I completely respect that others would not be fine with it. What I'm making a mess of saying here is that you cannot know how much you are helping, and I'm hoping to not have to talk in circles about some things very soon, but at the moment, I have to. The money thing is a part of that. And about the other...I very much understand people not 'getting it'. It's why I didn't make any new friends after mine died. There are some things that you either understand, or you don't; there's no explaining it. I….get it."

The thought of a supernatural NDA clause wasn't at all odd to Lorna - she'd have been surprised if there wasn't something like that. "I'll not get offended if I ask something you can't answer," she said. "I'd imagine there's all sorts'v shite they wouldn't want getting past their borders, so to speak." She'd been in a gang, when she was young; while it wasn't anywhere near the same thing, she understood the need to keep some things in-house - and quite frankly, she also knew that there were times that the less you knew, the better. "I'll admit, I try not to think about the whole 'royalty' bit, but you've not got the same hangups about that as the Irish do - though I wouldn't advertise that bit in the village, if I were you. I trust this lot not to be pushy about it, and if I'm the one that helps, you've not got to worry that someone else'll try to hold it over their heads." And that could, she knew, be a very real problem, if certain people found out just who she was doing this for. Fortunately, people in that line of work tended to ask very few questions, so long as they got paid. Money couldn't buy everything, but it could definitely buy silence and secrecy. "Maybe - maybe the fact that we get it is why we can deal with the elves without losing it. I mean, I didn't believe in shite before I came here - did you? Or was this as much'v a shock as it was to me?"

Earlene actually giggled, shaking her head. "That I didn't believe in this stuff or anything like it is part of how Thranduil made, ah, such quick inroads." She looked at Lorna carefully, weighing the possible consequences of telling her more of the truth, and decided to take the plunge. "Look, I'm going to be more honest than I was before, and hope you don't hold it against either of us. In the beginning, from almost the moment I set foot on this place, I heard voices telling me in so many words to leave the trees alone. I was completely convinced that it was some hooligans that were pranking the new American neighbor, because disembodied voices don't exist. I was so obstinate about not considering even the possibility of anything supernatural that he felt he was left with only one other option to keep my chainsaw off of his trees...he seduced me. And even that was only possible because in the beginning, I dreamed about him. When I finally had to confront that...he was far more than a man I was dreaming about, I realized that he'd woven a pretty good net, all made possible by the fact that I was not willing to believe in what I didn't think was real. You have to realize, my entire career has been about playing mind games with others and winning; it isn't easy to outwit me. He got immediate credit for having been amazingly clever, in my eyes. I could've walked away, I had chances, but by then...I wanted him worse than I've ever wanted anything. And I don't blame him, and honestly in his shoes I would've done the same thing he did. I was more than a little amused, in retrospect, at having to admit that there is more in the world than I wanted to acknowledge….you betcha."

To Lorna, the very idea was horrifying - but Lorna had been in prison, and had a violent aversion to the mere thought of being caught in any sort of net, however willingly. Had Earlene and Thranduil's relationship turned out differently, it would have been a good deal more horrifying - but as it was, they seemed happy. She herself would have fled and never looked back, but she wasn't Earlene. She couldn't look at the situation with her own eyes and expect to come up with the same result, as it were; what horrified her wasn't going to horrify everyone, and she did have a past uniquely unsuited to considering that with complete detachment. Still, she very much understood being amused at being proven wrong about the supernatural; once she got over freaking out, she couldn't help but laugh at herself - and wonder what the hell else might be out there. What else she could have been wrong about. Were there actually aliens? Bigfoot? El Chupacabra? She couldn't go dismissing anything out of hand now, a thought that was simultaneously intriguing and terrifying.

What she did have a problem accepting, though, was the idea that Elves could have much of a sex life. They seemed so...not remote, exactly, but like they'd be above anything so base. But then, how the hell would they make more Elves, if that was the case? It just seemed too weird to her - but then, she'd also only met what, two of them? Thranduil obviously must have had some drive in that area, or he wouldn't have seduced and then married Earlene, but it was pretty damn hard to reconcile. She was too old to be adapting to so much at once, and yet she wouldn't give it up now if you paid her. "If you're happy, that's what matters," she said. "Like I told Thranduil, I'm not one to judge how two people come together - I met Liam through our parole officer. Yeah, it seems bloody odd to me, but he's not human. It'd be weirder if you did get together in some conventional way."

"I thought of that, a few times...what if all that crazy stuff hadn't happened? There is a part of me that wonders if he would have wanted me. I mean, why should he have? Look at him, versus...me, someone...not even like him. Not even the same species. I don't know. I guess this is why I told myself long ago, don't waste brain cells on 'what ifs.' At the end of the day, they are a mental exercise that can never matter. It isn't what happened. But I think part of being human is the 'what ifs', no matter how logical I try to be about it."

"It's not worth wondering over," Lorna said. "It'll do your head in if you do it too much. What we've got before us is what we've got before us - hell, maybe he would've. Gran, she tried to beat it into my head that everything happens for a reason, even if we can't tell what that reason is right off. Not sure I believe it, but it'd be a nice thought."

A thin and cynical smile pressed Earlene's lips together, though she tried to tone it down. " 'Everything happens for a reason'...that one, for me, was always the worst sort of religious-superstition kind of thing, with all due respect to those who actually believe it. I try and keep my mouth shut on the topic, because it would usually land me in trouble even in New York, and here in Ireland…" she trailed off. "But it is definitely an Irish gran sort of thing to say. I hope I'm not babbling your ear off. I have to start learning to read their writing next, and I'll confess this conversation is allowing me to procrastinate the inevitable. I'm jealous of Thanadir, who hears everything once and has it down perfectly. While I'm not an idiot, I can't even start to touch that kind of ability...and their language is hard."

"Oi, yeah, don't let any of the old codgers around here hear that. I swear old Irish people are some'v the most superstitious people on this planet," Lorna laughed. "Christ, Gran left a bowl'v milk out for the fairies until the day she died. God knows what she'd make'v this, if she was still alive." She pondered a moment, and grinned. "I should teach you Irish," she said. "Or teach them Irish. If you're not born to it, it's one'v the hardest languages in the world - I bet even they'd get stuck. I'd say teach them Russian, but my Russian's crap." She kind of liked the idea of watching poor, earnest, adorable Thanadir floundering with Irish grammar and Russian genitive case. It was terrible of her, but she couldn't help it.

With a shake of her head, Earlene demurred. "I'm allergic to any language I can't see how to pronounce. Theirs has some pretty odd twists, but rock-solid rules of pronunciation. I looked at Irish once and...for the life of me, it's like some kind of secret code this country invented to keep the rest of us from knowing where you hide the liquor. And I'm afraid to say, it worked."

Lorna burst out laughing. "You might well not be wrong," she said. "We did whatever we could, to screw with the English. We all learn it at school, but people who try to learn it at adults don't tend to fare so well. Russian's even worse, though. The pronunciation's consistent, but the rest of it's bloody crazy if you're starting as an English speaker. I'm tempted to teach you Cyrillic, just so you can mess with them."

Brows arching over her brown eyes, Earlene's face took on an almost evil grin. Almost. "But then I'd have to teach you the elvish lettering, and then we'd just both end up going to the pub."

"I can think'v worse ways to pass an evening," Lorna said. "I've spent most at the pub anyway. Mick's flat...I don't know. He must have some kind'v strange bachelor immunity to some'v the things I've found in his fridge. I mean, I live alone, but I don't live like that."

Earlene grimaced, unable to think of a suitable response that wasn't overtly filled with disgust and pity or would lead to her issuing a dinner invitation when she was completely determined to not cave in. Maybe someday soon but...she just had too much to do. With a sigh, she knew that she really ought to get back inside so Thanadir could start tormenting her with Tengwar. The standard mode, not the mode of Beleriand, if you please.

"If he's not died'v scurvy yet, he probably won't," Lorna said. "Still, if you've got an evening off, meet me at the pub sometime." Earlene and Thranduil might be married, but Lorna would bet being around Elves for too long could get...draining. There was a lot of energy about them, so much so that she could imagine it could be exhausting.

"If the party goes off on schedule, I think I'll be able to come down more often after that. There's a chance tomorrow will be busier than I want it to be...and do I need to bring anything, like food, to the party? In the states we have potlucks, and it doesn't matter if the party is for you...it's always nice if everyone shares bringing things for everyone to eat."

"Not for a party in your honor," Lorna said. "Whoever it's for just gets to eat and drink and watch everyone get so ossified they can't see straight."

"Okay, but I had to at least ask. You know, I love people watching. I think you have to, to live in New York City. This is going to be...one for the books. And, dammit, I guess I'd better get going and let you go as well. Do you know when you'll come by tomorrow? I was thinking about those pretzels…"

"I'd say late morning or early afternoon, depending on traffic. I need to get in and get out before my sister's off work - I've got to go past her house to get to my cottage, and she'd be wanting to know what I was doing with Gran's old machine. You'll find soon enough that the Irish can be some'v the worst busybodies on the face'v the Earth, especially when it's family involved. Sometimes I feel like I'm bloody James Bond, sneaking about," Lorna said, with a mixture of fondness and utter exasperation. She loved Mairead, but her sister was too used to being a mother, and had all too often lumped her half-feral little sister in with her own children at first. Unfortunately, it still stuck, long past when it should have been warranted.

"Sounds good, then, I'm sure we'll all be here. Good luck," Earlene smiled. "I'm learning."

"That you are," Lorna said, laughing. "Good luck to you Earlene, and don't let Thanadir drown you in verbs and grammar."

"Will do," she said, slowly retreating back toward the door with an enthusiastic wave.

Lorna returned the wave, and headed back toward town. Yeah, this was the weirdest bloody thing she'd ever found in her life, but that wasn't turning out to be a bad thing. Meanwhile, she had some last-minute prep to take care of, so she wouldn't have to hassle with it tomorrow.

Earlene closed the door quietly behind her and leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. With a deep sigh, she tried to sort out her impressions. Lorna was a person who from the deepest place inside of people, that place from which she could feel some sense of how another perceives their role in the world, resonated with Earlene. She absolutely knew that she fundamentally liked Lorna. But other facets were not so easy to reconcile. Lorna was a product of her life's experiences; one which had not had nearly as many privileges and opportunities as Earlene's had had. There would never be the easy camaraderie that happened when people were meant to be truly close friends, by being cut out of the same cloth. The kind where you finished each other's sentences and every conversation was as easy as breathing, and shared experience formed the borders of your relationship to each other. _Just...take it slow, Earlene. Rome wasn't built in a day, and in your heart you know that she is a friend worth having. Maybe what unsettles me is no reflection on anything about her. I've shut everyone out for a long time, and suddenly now the door is open a little. And it feels almost like a stampede, by contrast. Maybe that is the crux of it._

 _And maybe, you are thinking too much and should have a glass of wine, meluieg._

Opening her eyes, she saw that his handsome face peered down at her in amusement. Leaning forward, she held him, half-wishing she could stand there for the rest of the day listening to his heart beat. Understanding her mood, he rubbed his hand across her back. Relishing every touch, she knew it was time to get to work. Releasing him, she reached up to plant a quick kiss on his chin, and walked back to the living room and her computer. Opening it, she looked at some of the Tengwar sites and printed out a few charts that seemed to give the most information in the least space. "Why do they all have to look alike?" she mumbled under her breath.

"Because Fëanor apparently thought they looked pleasing. He made these letters. And though his heart fell into darkness, all acknowledge that he was gifted, and that he created many things of great beauty."

It was hard for Earlene to reconcile what Thranduil had just said. "This...Fëanor is the same one who spoke this...?" trailing off, she feared to even bring up the subject. The last thing she wanted was more strife or tension about something concerning which she was completely without knowledge.

"Yes," said Thanadir. "The same one."

Nodding, her mind felt almost in a panic to change the subject as Thranduil laid his hand on her shoulder. _Meluieg, I am sorry. You are afraid because of how I behaved earlier; I would take it back if I could. This is my fault. I promise I will tell you the story of Fëanor, but I do not wish you to fear his name or to speak of him. Please, meluieg, can it not be as it was before?_

 _I will try, Thranduil. I too am sorry but...you cannot know how much I do not ever want to see you that angry again._

 _Yet it was not your mistake, Earlene. It was mine. What you are really saying is that I have caused you to be afraid of me._

As she stared fixedly at the cabinets, the feeling washed over her that she was being picked apart, like a defendant under interrogation. _Right now, the only thing I know is that if we continue to deliberate this, I will take my computer, run a hot bath, and watch kitten videos until I feel better. Maybe you are right, and maybe you are not. I feel...bewildered. The only thing I can say for certain is that this discussion is upsetting me. Please, can we not set this aside for a time?_

He looked at her searchingly, seeing that she truly did not bring any clarity of thought concerning her current feelings. It was only decent, to do as she asked. He nodded. _I am sorry, Earlene. I should not have said that._

Her head nodding, was her reply. _Thank you. If you would be willing, I would very much like to have the wine you mentioned. But you do not know how to open the bottle..._ her attempt to rise off her seat was arrested by him.

 _Then it is time I learned how. I will do it._ An edge to his voice stopped her half-formed protest in its tracks. Picking up her computer and her notebook, she retreated to what seemed like the relative safety of a seat next to Thanadir, along with her printout of the letters. Combing her bookmarks for study material brought no satisfaction, but Googling "Tengwar transcriptions" did. Apparently people out in the world had used Tengwar to write English words, and...well, why not? If the point was to learn the letters, it might actually be easier to use them this way as sort of a stepping stone. Because there was only one other way to have a practice worksheet, and he was busy making satin roses. For five minutes, she compared the letters on the computer against what was on her chart. "This won't work," she muttered. "The font is too different, and I don't need this to be even harder in the beginning."

An irritated voice broke into her thoughts. _In case you had forgotten, someone else besides Thanadir can write in Tengwar._ He was standing at the counter, trying (unsuccessfully) to divine how to use the wine corker. Though to be fair, hers was the laguiole kind, and he'd not once paid attention to how it was used.

Looking up, her lips parted, but then pressed together in sheer frustration. _Is everything I do going to be wrong today?_ No sooner was the thought out than she felt terrible. She saw him place the wine corker down, and rest both his hands on the countertop with his head bowed. _Thranduil, I am sorry,_ she sent, _but I am becoming thoroughly vexed. Every attempt I have made to study your language today has caused you to become displeased with me._

He ignored her, and spoke to Thanadir so rapidly that she caught no other words than "meno" (go) and "parf". And she felt particularly excited about the latter one, because she actually recognized it when it was mutated to "barf". Book. Even to pick out one word felt incredibly gratifying. Without speaking, Thanadir laid down his needle and thread and left the house.

Earlene watched him retreat into the distance, completely confused, and then turned her head to view Thranduil. His eyes were fixed on her, but his gaze was calm, and soft. "Would you please come here, and show me how to use this...device?" he said, holding up the opener.

"Yes," she replied with an equal tone of courtesy, moving everything off of her lap and onto the coffee table. She gave him full marks for not doing something idiotic yet commonplace, like mining out the cork in tiny pieces. He'd not actually touched the bottle, having spent his mental energy on trying to perceive the function of the opener before ham-fistedly making a mess of the proceedings. "Like this," she said quietly, showing him how it was set up, and handing it back to him so he could learn how it felt to pry out the cork. Turning away to return to the sofa, his words halted her.

"Please, would you stay here?"

"Yes." The sound of wine pouring into a glass caused her to take a deep breath; she had not yet turned around to face him again, but not to do so would be rude. Forcing a smile through her increasingly volatile feelings, she rotated her body. He offered her the filled glass. Her eyes widened as she forced down all her thoughts to blankness. This was a very large wine goblet and it was full to within a quarter inch of the rim; half the bottle must be in there. Not knowing what to say, and not wishing to hurt his feelings when he was obviously trying to make amends, she took it from him with a polite "thank you." Sipping down rather more than one would sip, she ensured that what remained had a prayer of not sloshing out. It had been more like three hefty swallows, and on her relatively empty stomach, she knew it would likely hit her like a brick momentarily.

He had stepped around to her, and gently took the glass from her fingers, placing it on the counter before leaning down to initiate a long, soft kiss. _I apologize for my words, meluieg. I am unsure what is the matter, but it is true that I am managing to be very unfair to you today. And I am wondering if you could desire me even a fraction of how much I desire you, right now. I sent Thanadir to retrieve some books; he was asked to make sure he took the better part of an hour to return._

Her hand traced down to his groin, to find that he had not been exaggerating in the least. _Please. The sooner, the better._ Nimble fingers were already loosening the laces of his breeches before she abruptly broke away from him. "No countertop" she said, as she dashed to the bedroom, laughing.

A half hour later, Earlene was lazily lying on top of him, idly twisting his hair into thin flaxen ropes. Her intimate areas were slightly sore, and she'd refused to let him do anything about it, because it was too delicious of a reminder of everything they had just immensely enjoyed. "I think I feel less tense," she quipped, her eyes shining at him. "And seriously", she said," her features relaxing into an expression that Thranduil had come to associate with her moments of introspective honesty, "I am now not understanding how I went my entire life without sex. The relief is...incredible."

"It is," he smiled. "But I am not sorry to have had you all to myself."

"Would it have...changed anything, changed what you did, had I not been a virgin?" They had never discussed this, and now she was curious.

"No, it would not have, not in the way you are asking," he answered. "But it would have changed something, for me. I would not have been the one to have the great privilege of being the first to give you such pleasure. Though I know it was not done on my behalf, it is something held dear in my heart, to know that you have only been...mine." He laughed at himself, shaking his head. "I do have a problem with that word, don't I?"

"Kind of," she teased. "But you are a King. It isn't the same. But...'mine' will always hold a place in my heart. After all, it was the first thing you ever said to me." Sitting up, she reached for her clothes. "Can we talk in the other room? Because speaking of you being a King, I wondered if you would be willing to discuss what is so obviously about to be on my mind. That and, you have to help me drink some of that wine...if I finish all of that glass, dinner can only come to grief."

Raising an eyebrow as he pulled on his breeches, he softly said, "Ah. You wish to...ask me to reconsider my commands to you, on what you are allowed to speak of to those not in my service?"

Earlene answered carefully. "To an extent, yes, but it is because of...how to say this? It made complete sense, when you kept apart from humans. You were practically a legend...they knew on the level of their traditions that elves lived in the woods, but that isn't the same as talking to the elves, meeting the elves, and inviting the elves to a wedding reception." With terrible coordination, she flopped over onto the bed when her foot caught in both her legging and the skirt of her jumper. Salvaging the situation, she smoothed out her clothing and approached him. "Thranduil, before we get onto the other...thank you. Thank you for this time together, thank you for understanding that it was needed. I love you very much." Kissing him thoroughly, she smiled and backed away. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Some moments later saw the Elvenking doing severe damage to the volume remaining in the glass. "If I understand correctly, you are advising that if one of us is asked, to admit that we have a dwelling in the forest, but not to elaborate too much. And to admit that we have some means, but again, not to elaborate. Meluieg, I am afraid that I hear you, but do not understand."

She sighed, looking up a the ceiling again as she sipped wine and placed the chicken and casserole dish of rice into the oven. "I'm going to coin a phrase and call this the 'Duh Factor.' Do you know this idiom?"

His furrowed forehead answered that question.

" 'Duh' is an informal expression that is used in response to someone stating the obvious. For example, were I to say, 'there is wine in my glass,' you would respond, 'duh!' What I mean is, isn't it obvious that you must have a home in the forest? You are hardly a wild man in appearance, and neither is Thanadir. Your clothes are not torn and covered with leaves, you wear no hodgepodge of animal pelts, your skin and hair are clean. Clearly, you do not live in muddy holes nor in the treetops. You have some sort of home, and one could safely assume it is not a hovel. And this necklace you have placed on me? Well, it would not take a genius to presume there is more where that came from. It is sort of...obvious. But if I cannot at least confirm what everyone inherently knows because of my vows, it comes off as...very peculiar. And the people here are curious busybodies, you've no idea the things you might be asked." As Earlene watched him, she could see understanding coming over his face.

"And there is more. Specifically, Lorna, and anyone who comes as close to us as Lorna has already come. You may wish to consider that in the future, if she were to solemnly promise never to reveal what she had seen, that it would not be unsafe for her to see your Halls. Confuse the sight of the path there, if you feel you must, even though she would never find it again with your enchantments. She would not break her word, unless I am much mistaken, though I doubt she would ever willingly swear fealty to you. I am not certain if you currently realize how valuable she is to your goals, but it is my instinct that it would not go amiss to grant her unusual concessions. A great deal hinges on her goodwill and assistance. And I have said enough on this for now. You are King, and these things are for you to decide." She smiled. "I feel like I should bow, or something, though you have forbidden it here. It is strange, to need to address you as my sovereign but without the formality."

Thranduil stared. "Under most other circumstances I would dismiss this out of hand, Earlene. But the truth is, because she came here, Lorna has been revealed to me, though not to the same degree as you. The only difference is, I have never looked to the depths of Lorna, as I have you. There was no need, and I respect what of her privacy she can yet have while near me. That being said, I have seen a great deal. More than enough to be able to say, you are not wrong in your assessment of her." Inhaling deeply, he swallowed the rest of the wine in one gulp while Earlene tossed the vegetables for roasting with olive oil and sprinkled sea salt liberally over them.

 _Dammit I want to get an herb garden started_ she frowned to herself. _If there ever was a calling for fresh thyme..._

"I give you permission to speak as you feel you must at this...reception, Earlene. I have been secretive, and fearful, for a long time. But I will be there with you. It should be only villagers, at this event. And should someone be present with evil intentions toward us, I would know soon enough. And truly, even were it known that my vault was wide open for the taking, the woods are defended, as you saw today."

That reminds me, she quipped. "Did you catch from my thoughts that my compass is worthless, in your woods? It was fairly spectacular, actually."

He smiled. "I did not, and that is good news." Rising, he poured her more wine, sliding the glass toward her. When he spoke next, there was hesitation in his voice. "Meluieg, there is more I should tell you. In very few more days, my attention will have to...shift, somewhat. I will make every effort to have myself or Thanadir be here, but for a time, one or the other of us will need to be at the Halls. My people are on the very edge of being restored. Our Halls will return to life, such as it will be with so few of us. It is time, meluieg, that if you wish to have your gardens, you should procure seeds. I would prefer to wait, a little while, regarding animals. If I am to be perfectly honest, I am...nervous is not the word, but I have not managed anything like this in a long time, though once this would have been the most trivial of all possible occurrences."

"We humans have a saying. 'You have a lot on your plate, Thranduil.'" She considered, as she peeled the apples for the dessert and expertly tucked each into the pastry, after filling the center with raisins, sugar, spices and oats. "The sad thing is, the only thing that anchors me here is wanting the use of the computer. It is useless to me in your Halls; no signal. But I do not need it all the time, and it is a short run away. Would I be...in the way, if I were to join you at times?"

Sidling next to her, he put his arm over her shoulders. "No, you would not be in the way, though I would not be able to give you as much of my attention as I would wish. Yet perhaps even looking on would be a learning experience for you. And speaking of plates, the kitchens will once again prepare food. You will no longer need to cook three meals a day for us, meluieg. Though I confess that were I to beg for a privilege on account of both myself and my senschal, it would be that we could continue to enjoy some of your creations here. We will discuss it, when Thanadir returns. He too, has much need of the computer right now, as it is aiding his education greatly. And despite my curt comment earlier, he has the patience and the teaching skill to help you learn our tongue. There is something to be said for the fact that you are each forced to use each other's language, just now. Though I fear that you are correct; Thanadir will soon know a great deal of English."

With impeccable timing, Thanadir entered just as the last of the cinnamon caramel sauce was being scraped into a mason jar to cool. Earlene smirked at her decision to spike it with cream; it was truly all the fat and twice the calories. The only thing left to do was toggle the vegetables and baked apples in the oven; the roast chicken was already resting, wrapped tightly in tented foil. Thranduil was handed the books, and Thanadir turned immediately toward the sofa.

"Thanadir, daro," (wait) she said, offering him the sauce covered spoon and saucepan. The seneschal approached, looking curiously and then with bafflement at what he was being given.

"I do not understand what is this?"

Blushing and second-guessing her action, Earlene explained. "It is called 'licking the spoon.' It is a custom in families, that when a sweet treat is being made, that the cook offers the utensils to another. It is to taste it ahead of when the dessert is served, by scraping and enjoying what little is left."

Thranduil explained more, in their language, at which point Thanadir smiled and...licked the spoon, taking both that and the saucepan back to the sofa with him. Unbeknownst to Earlene, Thranduil had explained her feelings as well...that however strange, this was a sign of affection and favor.

"Earlene, tolo, havo,"(come, sit) Thranduil said with clear enunciation, gesturing to reoccupy her place next to Thanadir. He appeared fairly determined to consume every molecule of caramel sauce, which in her estimation was cuter than ever. Seating himself next to her, he patiently waited until her attention returned to him. "These books should provide you with more than you could wish for, to transcribe and practice reading."

"What are they about?" she asked.

Smiling, he shook his head. "You must tell me, meluieg."

"Very well, she said, I accept the challenge." Closing her laptop which she now should not need, in theory, she took the thinnest one, and handed him the others. "Would you please place these up on the bookshelf, for safekeeping?" It was very slow for her, with double checking everything, but finally she managed what was written on the cover. "i iaul vorn a i chû varan" she spoke very haltingly. "iaul...that is a cat, I think?" Just then the timer jangled, and she placed the book down. _Ten minutes and I have not made it past the title. This is...so hard_ , she thought, rising to go to the oven. _Which is why you will review this again tomorrow. Next you will only look at that chart. You are doing too much, too fast._ Removing the vegetables, she announced that dinner could be eaten as soon as there were plates on which to eat it. Thanadir hurriedly returned with his remarkably clean spoon and saucepan, and set out the necessities while she found serving spoons, reset the timer for the apples, and carved the chicken. Gran would have been proud; the old Irishwoman set great store by knowing how to dismember a fowl with elegance.

Their meal was one of the best she had ever served; five dishes was unusual even for Earlene. She was perfectly happy to see that the ellyn wanted all the drumsticks and wings; having never liked the dark meat, her own plate was happily filled with slices of tender breast cuts. An extra bottle of wine had been opened, to make up for the damage done earlier to the first bottle. By the time the baked apples were served, Thanadir looked like he might cry from happiness as liberal amounts of the sweet sauce were ladled over his (she drizzled only a tablespoon of the same onto Thranduil's apple). The highest compliment she received was that her husband actually liked the dessert. When all was cared for, Thranduil stood up, folded his arms, and said "Movie. All of us."

Not feeling the least sorry to move everything related to education off of the coffee table and to the counter, she readied The Desolation of Smaug, not needing to ask _which_ movie. Her husband was now speaking as fast as she had ever heard, presumably giving Thanadir the one minute summary of everything about the other four films. Earlene was far less resistant to being spoiled all over again. Thanadir's foot rubs were going to become enshrined on a pedestal, that much was obvious.

Earlene was comfortably held in her husband's arms, as the dwarven quest to reach Erebor continued. Beorn, or rather the idea that such things as men who could become bears, amazed her. She had learned four films ago to stop asking if such things had existed, because without exception every time she had inquired, they had. _The spiders...I do not mean to interrupt, but I only wish to know that those do not still live in your forest?_

 _No, meluieg, their kind is long dead._

 _Good._

The elven warriors were quick, impressive fighters. Earlene wished she could use a weapon like that; she'd liked archery in college, but certainly could not do what was shown here...and then the dwarves were being taken to Thranduil's Halls, past the gates she now knew reasonably well. It probably did not say much for her interest in the storyline, but all the could think of was that she had never seen Thranduil wear that many rings, and that his crown was far better looking than the spiky monstrosity they portrayed him wearing in this film. At one point she heard Thranduil mutter "who is Tauriel?"

While Earlene thought the dwarves' escape in the barrels was quite clever, she found the battle scene of them floating down the river to be preposterous. Hearing her thought, Thranduil noted _That did not ever happen. Orcs never, ever breached the defenses so near the Halls. And while my warriors had great abilities, they did not include balancing on dwarf heads while floating down the Forest River._ Earlene chuckled quietly, so as not to disturb Thanadir.

She loved the characters of Alfrid, and the Master of Laketown...they were immensely good comic relief. And she had become fond of some of the dwarves, as well. It was impossible to not have a soft spot for Balin and Bofur especially; they were her favorites for their level-headed optimism. But Smaug surprised her. She had read a tiny bit about him in the book, but she had not imagined...that. He was huge, and malevolently terrifying. Magic ring or no, she decided then and there that Bilbo Baggins had immense courage. And Erebor itself...she had seen Thranduil's vault, and all those vast riches were but a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to the gold strewn all over the place. And though she figured the dragon must get killed or the story would not have a decent ending, it still left her with a feeling of trepidation for those poor people. When it was over, Earlene had to be honest that she felt like Thanadir's foot rub had been more enjoyable than this part of the tale (which reminded her to thank the seneschal profusely for his kindness to her). It was late, and she said her "goodnights" to him before disappearing into the bedroom while he and Thranduil continued to discuss something or other in warp speed Sindarin.

Having brushed her teeth and showered, wearing only her kimono that passed for a bathrobe, she was about to climb into bed when Thranduil came into the room, wearing his cloak. "We are sleeping in my Halls tonight, Earlene." Standing as if frozen for a moment, she tried to wrap her head around needing to dress and walk through the woods when she really did not want to...but realized she must do as he asked.

"Yes, Thranduil," she said compliantly, though she still wanted this about as much as a root canal. Turning, she walked to her closet to find her dress.

"No, meluieg. I will take you, as you are. It is late."

Now thoroughly baffled, she stood and stared at him. With a kind smile, he scooped her into his arms as though she was a little girl, and wrapped his cloak around her. Held thus, he marched with her outside and into the woods, with Thanadir following closely behind. While she did not understand how, none of the chill of the night air reached her, cocooned as she was against him. The bright moonlight shone through the trees of the woods and while she felt sleepy, it was...magical. She held loosely onto his chest, and sometimes looked up to see his ethereal face as he moved along the path. Perhaps she dozed off for a moment, because next she knew he was bearing her through his Halls, and soon they arrived at his rooms. Just as on a previous occasion, the bedding was already miraculously warm, and she was soon tucked away in luxury. Only one thing could possibly make this nicer, and as he joined her, gently parting her thighs, she soon had her wish.


	19. Chapter 19

Work and vacations have kept me from keeping this story updated on this site, for which I apologize...so I will be releasing the big "catch up" today. Enjoy and thank you for reading! :-) -Ann Ellspeth & Spamberguesa

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Earlene woke, rubbing her eyes, to find herself alone in Thranduil's bed; a blazing fire in the hearth had already warmed the room nicely. Propping herself up on her elbows, she neither saw nor heard any indication that her husband was here...which made it permissible to flop back down against the pillows for a little longer, while she recalled the pleasures of their bedtime. _I should get a grip on my mind, these next few days,_ she thought. _He's going to be busy, and the last thing he probably needs is to feel obligated to...service his wife._ The door to their rooms opened and shut, swiftly followed by the sight of Thranduil bearing a covered tray.

 _And what if I look forward greatly to servicing my wife, so that I may have a pleasant diversion from the other demands made on my time, meluieg?_

 _Then far be it from me to thwart the wishes of my King._ Her eyes filled with humor, to realize that she could speak to him as she preferred, here.

"Good," he returned, as his robes fell from his body with the undoing of just a few buttons, revealing his nude form. Which impressed her, as she'd no idea that he was not fully clothed. "I have brought tea, and porridge, which are both very hot. And I thought of what I might do with the time needed for them to cool down," he said, his eyes filled with desire. He dove deep under the covers, and with a laugh of delight, she found herself pulled further down as well. In the stuffy darkness under the bedclothes, his mouth found her nether parts, leaving her able to delight herself with attending to his manhood. Her eagerness for him was perhaps too great, since he could not long withstand her tongue and lips before he had to abandon his efforts in favor of entering her. With tender kisses he pleasured her while enjoying himself greatly, not ceasing his movements until she softly cried out from her pleasure. Once she was fully content, he only needed a few swift thrusts to achieve his own bliss. Spinning both of them around, still under the covers, he held her on top of his body as he released into her, cuddling her tightly against him in his happiness.

 _The only sad part of lovemaking is that this moment cannot last all day,_ she thought, as she was held in the greatest satisfaction of body and mind.

 _It could last all day, if that is your wish; one day I will give that to you. It is something everyone should experience, at least once. But it is not conducive to accomplishing much else_ , he said with humor in his thought.

Earlene laughed, as he pushed back the covers to let them breathe fresh air. _I am forgetting that you are actually capable of doing that. Yes, someday, you may surprise me; I would hardly complain. But in the meantime, thank you for such a lovely start to the day._ Bringing her face to his, she rubbed her cheek against his in affection.

With a gentle slap to her bottom, he lifted her up. "Time for tea, hiril vuin," he said, holding out a robe for her. It was one of his, that she swam in for how large it was on her, but it was warm and very comfortable. Bundled up, he placed her in a chair at his table, to reveal a steeping teapot and cooked porridge. On the side were small bowls of honey, dried fruits, and chopped nutmeats. He seated himself opposite her, gesturing to help herself to what was before her. He seemed more excited about a breakfast of porridge than would usually be warranted, until it dawned on her.

"This is from your kitchens?" she asked, tasting the first spoonful. Deeply impressed, she noted the creamy texture of the cooked grains, the perfect amount of salt, and...was it a smell of flowers, that she caught? "It is delicious." Sipping the tea, it was nothing she could exactly place, but it too had an exquisite flavor.

"Yes," he said, full of pride. "After today, you will only need to cook what meals you wish to. Though, I am afraid that unless we expand our food order to include eggs and some dairy products, the offerings will be extremely simple."

"And meat?" she asked.

"There are deer, rabbit and boar, that are wild in the forest, and abundant. While we do eat meat, we have always eaten more of grains, fruits, vegetables, and fish. There are yet some fish in the waters here."

"Chiiiiiicken," she hinted, smiling. "What of legumes...beans, peas, lentils? Those are easily purchased in great quantity."

"Vast stores of those items yet exist here. But should we manage to make a dent in them, then, yes."

"Then I will humbly allow that you know far more of your inventory than I do, my Lord," she said with a grin. It needed very little time for her to finish her food, and then turn her thoughts to wondering if she was to be returned home wearing this, or her kimono.

"Neither, Earlene. Thanadir has been making you more clothing." His eyes indicated to look a few chairs over, at the garment draped there. Glancing at him to see his nod of approval, she lifted it up. There were leggings, of the same thin leather as some of Thranduil's breeches, that she climbed into appreciatively. The dress itself was a little harder to puzzle out, though she was immediately delighted to see that this one was calf-length, made of layers of soft velvet. Thranduil helped her into it, showing her that it had a bodice that had to be laced tighter only after the wearer had it on. To her surprise, the garment lifted and rearranged her breasts much like a corset would, making them look much more voluptuous without managing to scream "streetwalker." The dominant color was burgundy, with some embroidered accents of tiny beige and yellow flowers. When she saw herself in the mirror, with the Necklace of Lasgalen sparkling above it, her astonishment was complete. Even by her standards her appearance was...exquisite, even with her hair uncombed and no makeup. That Thanadir would work so hard to make something this beautiful, for her...her heart melted with gratitude.

"Thank you," she exclaimed, realizing that ultimately he would have been at the source of its procurement. "I thank both of you, this is..." Thranduil came up behind her, looking at and feeling his way appreciatively down the dress. As his hands caressed her bosom, his eyes sparkled. "This dress had something for each of us, meluieg. The leggings and the shorter skirt, because I know you prefer it. And the display of your charms to best advantage, was something I requested."

Earlene's eyes widened. _How odd would it be, to be asked to sew a garment to show off someone else's wife's breasts?_

Thranduil laughed heartily. "Not odd at all, if you are Thanadir. I will confess to having long had a weakness for enjoying this sight on a female's body. Alassëa was as lovely as you, in this regard, and Thanadir is long used to my...proclivities by now."

"Can I ask you, what did she look like, Thranduil? I hope it is not offensive, but I cannot help my curiosity."

His eyebrows raised, and he walked over to what she supposed was something like an armoire, opening a drawer. He lifted out a framed item and brought it to her; it was a painting so lifelike that it may as well have been a photograph. Earlene could not help the sharp intake of air that the sight of this elleth caused. Her long golden hair in elaborate braids framed a face of perfect symmetry, set off with emerald green eyes. Her face was long, with a Grecian sort of classical beauty to it, and she wore a crown of summertime flowers. An elaborate necklace of emeralds graced her pale and elegant throat. Looking on this made Earlene feel completely and utterly plain, by comparison, save for one thing: the emotion in Alassëa's eyes was almost cold, imperious. There was no warmth to be seen, no love behind the expression. It made her feel...sad, for him. He must have loved her greatly; how could he not? His first wife was beautiful beyond anything she herself could ever be...and somewhere out there, this elleth yet lived and looked the same, while she herself could only age. Her curiosity now satisfied, she pondered if it would have been better, not to have asked to see this. Thanking him, but not meeting his eyes, she carefully handed the portrait back to him, and watched him return it to its place.

Earlene looked into the fire, realizing she must let this train of thought alone. It was pointless, and she did not wish to make him sorry that he had granted her request. Forcing a smile onto her face, she looked down again at the lovely dress. Whatever else had happened, she was here, now. And if there was one thing she could do, it would be that she would not fail in her love for him in the years that were given to her.

From across the room, Thranduil watched her, of course aware of all that had passed through her mind. He decided to say nothing, but it did not stop him from blinking back tears. That portrait had been painted not one year before Alassëa left him forever. Though he had loved his wife, he had not understood her. He had not recognized the expression written on her face that Earlene had seen and comprehended in one glance; he had not realized that she had grown deeply unhappy in their life together nor how earnest she had been about her need to sail to the Undying Lands. How he must have disappointed her...but there was nothing to be done then, or now. Mastering himself, he returned to his wife's side. "Are you ready to return to your house, Earlene?" he asked kindly. Looking up at him with a smile filled with love, she nodded. Offering her his arm, and carrying her garment that she called a kimono for her, they departed.

Once back, Earlene announced that as she did not wish to get this dress the least bit dirty, she hoped he would indulge her with allowing her to change; she wanted to wear it to the party tomorrow. As he could hardly object to the logic, he nodded while cleaning out the wood stove. "Earlene", he called from the other room, "what am I to do with this wood ash? The container is almost full."

Peeking her head out of the doorway, she answered him. "We will scatter that under the plum trees here. Those trees need a great deal of the nutrients that ash can provide. And from the looks of them, they've not had any such benefit in far too long."

Interested that she knew something about caring for trees that he had not, he smiled as he lit the stove. His wife soon emerged, wearing the second dress that he'd had made for her. Surprised at her choice, he smiled again, and rose to start the tea kettle. She followed him into the kitchen, intent on at least prepping the recipe for soup she intended to make, and the pretzels she had promised Lorna for later on. Her progress was arrested at the point of putting on her apron, as he appreciatively ran his hands over her dress. She was beginning to have a theory about the real reason he preferred dresses, as his hands were already working their way up her skirts. "Not on the countertop!" resulted in her being maneuvered into the pantry, where a thankfully sturdy butcher block not used in food preparation fell victim to the Elvinking's latest moment of passion. The problem was, legitimately complaining was difficult, because she admittedly could not get enough of him. With a satisfied smirk, he left her slightly dizzy and with an extremely pleasant set of sensations lingering under her skirt and in her brain. She tried to turn her thoughts to pretzels, though at first it was with mixed success.

When all of the food was cared for, she hung up her apron and brought her computer nearer to the wood stove. She went through the steps to set up an account for Lorna's prepaid credit card, which really had not been that difficult; the only question remaining would be what sum to initially place on it. Not wishing to disturb the mood of the morning with discussions about money, she saved her work in order to discuss it with Thranduil later on in the day, and turned to more selfish pursuits.

An hour later, she had successfully narrowed down what sort of garden vegetables did well here, and had found a source for traditional garden seeds. And then there was what seemed to be an unrelenting enthusiasm for garlic, onions, and potatoes. They even were advertising blight-resistant potatoes, which made her wonder... _how many things about growing food were harder, here?_ She couldn't assume it was exactly the same as in New York, on gran's farm. Thranduil broke into her thoughts.

 _While I cannot say what would occur outside, meluieg, here within the borders of my realm you will find few, if any, such problems. We elves have...a way, with growing things. Your garden here will be cared for by my people and...you should also consider ordering some seeds in much greater quantity. In the past we made use of clearings deep in the forest, and will soon do this again._

"What seeds?" she asked, intrigued. "I mean, what seeds do you wish ordered in greater amounts?"

"Thanadir can instruct you, in this. He will be here soon." Thranduil brought her a new mug of hot tea, giving it to her with a kiss to her forehead. Blushing with enjoyment at his attentive gestures, she realized that for some days now, they'd not really had much time here alone. And while she loved having Thanadir around, she also missed...being able to act like newlyweds, with her husband. His look of adoration, toward her, spoke of his equal enjoyment of their time alone. Remaining at the counter, he logged into his own computer, while she returned to her seed catalogs.

Thanadir did arrive soon, and joined her, asking only for his notepad on which to write his calculations for the seed order. Having explained catalogs to him, she turned him loose to shop, such as it was. Numbers in Tengwar soon covered the page, and just the sight of them made her eyes want to bleed. The letters were bad enough; she'd forgotten there were also characters for numbers and indeed an entire separate numerical system. _Please please please do not make me learn that as well_ , she thought, looking over at Thranduil.

He turned to her and smiled, responding only _One thing at a time, meluieg._ Grimacing weakly, she nodded her head. And speaking of the Dreaded Language, it was time to return to her studies. First, she would work on grammar tables, and then...the Tengwar.

Earlene stared at the page of "The Black Cat and the Brown Dog," as her eyes swam with the sensation of having looked at the same five words over and over; she transcribed them in her mind and then promptly forgot what they were. At the moment, the only things keeping her from hiding the book under the sofa cushion were that it was handmade and illustrated, and therefore probably half-priceless, and that she would not allow herself to admit that she could graduate from Columbia Law yet be defeated by what she was sure was an elvish children's story.

Thranduil smirked at her, but his expression shifted as he approached, bending down on one knee in front of her. Reaching up to caress her cheek, he looked intently at her. _Though I tease you, meluieg, know that I am both pleased with you and proud of you. The letters do look much alike, but in a short time, it will seem easier. Try not to become discouraged._ With a soft kiss to her forehead, he rose. "Thanadir, alio Lorna." (help) The King pointed in the direction of the front door, as the seneschal immediately moved to obey. He paused for a moment, very briefly, next to Thranduil. It was not often that they stood this close together, and for the first time she registered Thanadir's height. He was tall, but not quite so much as her husband. Were she to guess, she would say 6'1" or 6'2"? Not that it mattered. All of the elves she had seen carried themselves straight and with perfect posture; if they were capable of slouching, it was news to her. If Lorna was here, it entirely justified a break from her current study; she stood and placed her learning materials safely out of the way.

Moments later, Lorna, moving very quickly, had opened the door and flown into the room ahead of Thanadir. The elf bore a bizarre and antiquated object in his arms. The Irishwoman waved a hurried greeting, as she endeavored to dodge out of the elf's path of travel. Earlene frowned in confusion until she recognized what this was….when Lorna had said 'sewing machine,' she had indeed mentioned that it was the treadle kind...and that meant the thing was mounted on its own table. Since she didn't sew, that hadn't immediately registered. Though Thanadir carried it as though it were only made of bamboo, Earlene took one look at it, disbelieving that Lorna could have wrestled it here on her own. _That must weigh a ton...is any of it not cast iron?_

"I hope you've a place for it, for now," Lorna said, half apologetically. "I was figuring Thanadir could take it home with him sooner or later, if he can get it through the woods." Seeing how easily he carried it, she didn't think that would be a problem - though she also didn't know how far into the woods the Elves actually lived. He'd manage somehow, even if he might need Thranduil's help sooner or later. "Getting it out here on my motorcycle was...interesting. Damn thing probably weighs as much as I do." Not that that was saying a great deal, at her size, but still. She'd been a smart monkey and actually picked it up with Mick's van, but he'd needed it as soon as she got back to Lasg'len, so the motorcycle it had been.

Thanadir looked at Lorna, his eyes shining with excitement. Earlene could not recall him ever displaying any emotion beyond seeming generally pleased. Though it was probably too subtle for Lorna to pick up on, this was Thanadir's version of hopping up and down...she could see the old elf was beside himself. "Lorna, thank you. Thank you very much," he said in his carefully modulated voice, "but...will you show me what this does? I do not know this...sewing machine."

Earlene grinned, and interrupted quickly. "And while you're teaching Treadle Machine 101, I hope I can get you to stay and eat lunch with us, Lorna? Pretzels and beef barley soup."

"Of course I will," Lorna said, and didn't mention that it had been so long since she'd used the thing that she'd had to look up a YouTube tutorial last night. "It looks more complicated than it actually is." She thumped her knitting-bag up onto the table beside the sewing machine, digging through it. "And Earlene, that's not an invitation I'd need twice. I can cook, but only just - I've not had anything as good as you make since I lived with my sister." Her fingers closed on a small plastic box, and she opened it when she set it on the table. Inside were bobbins and a selection of threads, and she chose an empty one. "This, Thanadir, is a bobbin," she said carefully. "They are your friends, and I'll show you how to wind one once I've got settled." Fortunately, none of Earlene's chairs were too tall to let her do this.

Earlene nodded, and broke away to serve lunch, frowning for the umpteenth time about the setup of her house. When she'd imagine her life in her Irish cottage, she'd never envisioned that three would be here much of the time, not to mention guests. It wasn't that there wasn't the room, but the furniture just didn't suit the use of the space. There was a wide area near the counter that was bare of furniture, unused. Maybe it was time to think about a real table, the kind that could take four to six chairs. And thought the ellyn didn't seem to mind, the sofa was in a ridiculous position as well. It had been placed in its present location because she had counted on reclining, alone, to watch TV or films. Their willingness to coddle her aside, anyone sitting on it normally had to turn their heads to a ninety degree angle to look at the screen...it wouldn't do.

Though, Thranduil had just told her that things were about to change. Maybe they'd be in his Halls far more than here, in the near future. Still...this was her home, and it seemed like sound reasoning that enough time would be spent here to justify doing something about this. Maybe even…

 _Meluieg, you do not need to fret about this. There is furniture enough in my Halls to care for a thousand homes of this nature. If you desire something to be different, as I see that you do, you only need tell Thanadir or myself...and since I have just heard you, unless you change your mind, we will care for this very soon. You are correct, we do not mind turning our heads to watch the television. But I wish for your comfort and happiness, especially when it is this easy to provide._

 _Oh. Well, then just lost a sale…_

Chuckling, Thranduil returned his attention to Lorna's demonstration of the machine; as it turned out, elves loved to see how things worked. Any things.

She'd explained bobbin-winding, which was really the most difficult part, careful to let Thanadir see each step. Catching the thread into every place it needed to catch could take practice, but she doubted he'd need much - from all Earlene had said, Elves picked things up far faster than most humans, and Lorna would well believe it. They also had better hair than her, dammit.

"Okay, once you've threaded the needle like this, you latch the bobbin underneath it, here. Turn the wheel -" she did so, slowly, so he would see the needle catch the bobbin thread "-then put the plate back over it. Now, a modern machine wouldn't let you do this, but I'm betting you'll have a use for it."

She pulled two scraps of leather out of her bag - whose they had been, or what the rest of it had been used for, she had no idea. Her thread was white, so it would show up well, and she had to fight a little grin as she laid the leather out and dropped the foot. "Now, this is the part that really takes practice, and I've always been pants at it - bad, I mean," she clarified, reflecting that he really needed to learn modern slang "- so bear with me. This down here's the treadle. You rest your right foot at the front, your left at the back, and sort'v...rock it, I guess you'd say. The faster you go, the faster the needle goes." Rock she did, very gently, not wanting the needle to run away from her - that was how she'd wound up stitching her fingers before. Aaaand now, since she'd thought that, Thranduil would know it, too. _Dammit._

The needle flashed, drawing the thread up through the bobbin, leaving her with a nice, neat row of very precise stitches. While an Elf could probably equal them by hand, she highly doubted they'd be able to do it anywhere near that fast. "See?"

Thanadir's lips parted in astonishment. Earlene thought he couldn't look happier before this demonstration, but she was proven wrong. His usually schooled demeanor had fallen away completely, replaced with an air of rapture. Worried that he might start...crying, or something, Earlene announced in an extremely audible tone of voice that the soup was served, if they could take a brief pause from the machine.

Three steaming bowls were lined up at the barstools, with a tray of warm pretzels. And next to each plate was a generously filled small bowl of cheddar-beer-honey dipping sauce, for the soft breads. She herself had her food at the side of the counter, where she insisted on eating while standing; company always came first. Thranduil, smiling at Lorna's mental narrative but wisely saying nothing, was the first one to be seated, politely gesturing for Lorna to sit at the place between himself and Thanadir.

Lorna hadn't eaten since six in the morning, and the pretzels and soup smelled amazing. Gran, however, had thumped enough manners into her head that she sat patiently, giving Thranduil a slightly grateful nod - she'd figured he wouldn't announce her random mental word vomit to the world, but it was still nice to be right. "It smells wonderful," she said, resting her feet on the stool's spokes to keep them from dangling. _Never dig in first,_ Gran had said. _You might not be a lady, but you're not a bloody savage._ She'd even trained Lorna out of belching every time she had a fizzy drink...when there was anyone else around to hear, anyway. Left to her own devices, she could still burp the entire first stanza of Crazy Train...crap, she'd gone and thought _that_ , too. _Oh, fuck everything._

Thranduil's face twisted into an odd sort of grimace as he attempted to suppress his desire to laugh; to his credit, he was successful. _Lorna, do not worry. You are a wonder, to have here...though it may not seem thus to you, when you have been more or less alone with your thoughts for longer than I care to say, as I have, to hear someone like you is...very enjoyable. I love my wife, yet her thoughts are not half so...unabashedly forthright...as yours._ Glancing sideways at her, he allowed a brief smile to cross his face, but soon enough everyone was rather engrossed in their food and discussion faded to a minimum.

With a extremely satisfied sigh, Earlene was the first to finish her soup, determinedly nibbling at the pretzel even though she already felt full. Offering seconds, she was gratified that both Lorna and Thanadir wanted more. While she knew it was illogical and silly, her summers with gran had taught her that if people wanted seconds, it meant that they really liked your food. Even though she herself rarely had seconds of her own cooking, which she liked quite a lot. Thranduil, for whatever reason, was simply eating very slowly, and had a faraway gaze much of the time. Soon enough, everyone had a glazed mien of contentment, and she insisted that Lorna continue with the sewing machine while she finished washing up.

Over in the corner, her cell phone suddenly jangled. With a text message; she'd not heard that notification sound since leaving New York. Wiping her hands, she investigated, with widening eyes. "In an hour, the produce delivery will arrive. And the driver says his hand truck is broken, which I think is code for, we need to unload it by hand."

"Hand truck?" asked Thranduil.

"A labor saving device allowing someone to move heavy items from one place to another more efficiently."

"Ah."

"If you will excuse me, I am changing into jeans...I really need to check that the barn is in order before he arrives."

Once she emerged from the bedroom, Thranduil followed Earlene out, leaving Thanadir raptly listening to Lorna's continued instructions.

"There's loads'v stitches you can do," she said, "but I don't know half'v them. If you watch some videos on YouTube, and have either Earlene or Thranduil to translate, you can learn more than I could ever teach you," she said, carefully demonstrating the back-stitch to cement the line of stitching. "You're so tall it might take a bit to get the hang'v it yourself." Shad no idea at all how to advise him there; he had to be well over a foot taller than her, and might need to raise the desk if he was to work comfortably. One of the very few good things about being so short was that you never had to hunch over anything.

She glanced up at the door. "D'you think they need help?" she asked. She'd feel like a twat if she left Earlene to wrestle with a load of groceries - Thranduil could probably handle himself, but Earlene was human. It wouldn't be half so easy for her.

"We can...see?" said Thanadir, who was declining to state his uncertainties as to how someone so small could move heavy loads at all, having been mystified as to how she'd placed the sewing machine on her...vehicle. Perhaps the Edain were stronger than he knew?

Thanadir smilingly opened the door for Lorna, having read an article about basic human protocol, which said that courteous males should do this in the presence of females.

"Thanks," she said. He was so earnest about everything - it would have been hilarious, yet somehow it wasn't. It had been a very long time since she'd seen anyone so genuinely excited about...well, anything.

The pair arrived to the barn in time to see Thranduil standing back, his arms crossed over his chest as his entire bearing radiated poorly veiled amusement. He waited outside the large wooden sliding doors. Earlene was apparently inside the barn, with noises of mounting frustration emitting from the other side of the door, as the heavy framework shuddered but did not move. A hammer blow rang out, followed quickly by an extremely audible "YOU…FILTHY... STRUMPET..." and two more hammer blows. With a yell of frustration, the doors burst open just enough to allow Earlene to exit. Smoothing her sweater, and with a completely straight face, she smiled and said sweetly, "If one of you could open them the rest of the way, I'd appreciate that."

Lorna burst out laughing before she could help it, unable to choke it back. "Earlene," she managed, "you've got top marks for class and creativity." She had never, ever actually heard anyone use the word 'strumpet' before, and now she wondered why not. It was a great word, a perfect word, and when said at that volume… Lorna had to draw a deep breath, trying to stifle her giggling and failing for far too long. "That might just be the classiest cursing this village has ever known," she snickered, and then, "I might be able to get that door open." Eying it, she wasn't sure either elf would actually fit through that gap; while they were both slender-ish, they weren't _that_ slender.

Thanadir was completely baffled, having not know most of the words in Lorna's sentence, and Thranduil hadn't moved nor had the amusement left his face.

Earlene leaned over. "Trust me, I thought of several words that were gran-approved, but I am not sure I could forgive myself if I was the one at fault for leading Thanadir's vocabulary astray. I mean, I think I'm expected to set some kind of an example but…" as her voice dropped to the barest whisper, "that door is a right fucking cunt." Quickly resuming normal volume, she continued, "Maybe you could get in that gap and get the leverage going, and then they could each push in opposite directions? Both sides need to open and the hardest part is shifting it in the first place. Does everyone think that is a sound idea?"

Of course, that only set Lorna off all over again; she was hiccuping by the time she managed to nod. "Sounds good to me," she said, striving for something resembling a straight face and utterly failing. Squirming through the gap wasn't hard, but she was right: there was no way either of the Elves would have managed it without losing a few layers of skin, and possibly a few internal organs along with it. _Did Elves have spleens? Why was she wondering that?_

She eyed the door, wondering what would happen if she just took a run at it. It was an old barn; smashing right through the door like a bowling ball was probably an actual danger, so she'd forebear. This time.

Thranduil, Earlene guessed, translated that all to Thanadir, because both ellyn took positions at either door, waiting for Lorna to heave them apart. Lorna gave a concerted shove of truly impressive strength, at which point the elves maintained the momentum. That she actually saw each of them having to expend some effort told her how bad those overhead runners were. Annoyed that those responsible for preparing the property had overlooked this, a growling noise came out of her throat. She'd be mentioning this to Ian. What was required was just a good bunch of grease, and with the elves to help by moving the doors back and forth to spread it, this was not an insurmountable issue.

To her horror she looked up and saw something that was about to be very bad. "THANADIR, DARO!" (Stop) at a volume that surprised even her. He froze, more bewildered than ever. Running to him, she laid her hand on his arm. "Díheno nin, Thanadir, adh…" (forgive me, but…) She pointed up at the heavy support rail. The stop on the rail had disintegrated, and on Thanadir's side of the door, the first roller had been exactly twelve inches from falling right off the track...and quite possibly causing the door to twist and tear away. He understood right away. "Earlene, len hannon," he said, reassured that his King's wife hadn't gone off the rails herself.

 _That was too close,_ she thought, her heart pounding, _but at least the damn door is open._ The backup indicator on a truck could be heard at the end of the driveway, and Earlene ran down to speak to the driver. In moments, he had backed up the truck up partly into the open doorway. "Good afternoon," she greeted him, "we will help you offload," she said with a smile.

"Yes ma'am, righ' after I collec' payment; I's told t'is order's p'ment on delivery."

"Certainly," she said with a bright smile. "Right after we unload the truck while I check the items against your manifest."

"Manifest?" The driver, who had a less than savory appearance, looked at Earlene as if she was from another galaxy.

 _Thranduil, please come over here right now with Lorna, bonus points if you make sure your hair covers your ears, and tell Lorna I think this man is trying to give me a hard time._

"Yes, the manifest," she said sweetly. "The delivery list? The itemized list of the produce you are delivering? That list?"

The man continued to stare at her as though he understood nothing, and Earlene continued to hold her ground, smiling amiably. Just then she heard the two of them come up behind her.

Lorna's eyes narrowed. That was the most disgustingly put-upon accent she'd ever heard in her life - shameful to hear it coming from an actual Irish person, but he probably figured the resident American wouldn't know the difference. If he wanted unintelligible, she'd damn well give him unintelligible.

"Have you got not'in b'tween your bloody ears, y'twat?" she demanded, glowering up at him. "Or're y'just fekkin' wit' her 'cause she's American? Cough t'damn t'ing up before I jam my boot so far up your arse y'cough up shoelaces, a bhastaird bhreallghnúisisgh." Thranduil might or might not be able to understand that one; she didn't know how much Irish he might have picked up over the years. The Elves probably didn't have an actual term for 'cunt'...and now she'd gone and thought it. Brilliant. If they didn't have one before, they did now. She was going to be responsible for corrupting the English speech of an entire race eventually, wasn't she?

The already florid man flushed a good two shades darker. "I haven't got-" he started, his heavy accent lost in something more natural. There was a trace of genuine confusion in his face, too; she was willing to bet he hadn't understood her entirely. Hah. She'd never yet met anyone with a heavier natural accent than her, and this pansy was welcome to line up the syllables until it actually made sense.

"Haven' got one?" Lorna demanded. "N'less you're touched in t'bloody head, you've got one. Eit'er you're lazy, stupid, or a damn gobshite, an' I'd be happy t'kick you 'til I work out which. Give it over." She held out her left hand, expectantly, wiggling her fingers for emphasis.

Give over he did, with quite ill grace. Lorna checked it over, muttering darkly as she counted, testing out the quality of the few things she could reliably quantify. The shop wasn't stiffing Earlene, at least; the driver was just an arse.

"Hang up," she said, glaring at him, "says she's got whiskey on here. I don' see any bleedin' whiskey."

The man winced, ever so slightly, and Lorna rolled her eyes. If you were going to steal something, at least don't be an idiot about it - lifting it from a grocery order was right up there with trying to stuff a bottle in your jacket at the supermarket. She marched around the side of the truck, wrenching the door open, ignoring the twat's protests.

"Cab trasna ort thúin', gobshite," she growled, rooting around under the seat. The cab looked like it hadn't seen the end of a vacuum in at least twenty years; there were even cigarette butts on the stained carpet. Classy. He really ought to go fuck himself sidewa-oh, _dammit._ Thinking and saying things in Irish sort of defeated the purpose if she just went and thought them in English again. As her nephews would say, _Fail, Aunt Lorna. Epic fail._ It was a good thing Thranduil seemed to find her mind amusing rather than annoying, because she probably wasn't ever going to make it behave.

Sure enough, two bottles of rather high-end whiskey sat behind the seat. She snatched them out, told the driver to shove a few unpleasant things in even more unpleasant places (and this time what she thought in Irish stayed in Irish), and once he'd unloaded the lot, flipped him a double-barreled finger when he drove off.

"Focáil gabhar, cúl tóna!" she called, and shook her head. Turning, she eyed Earlene and the Elves (hey, that wasn't a half-bad band name). "Drink, anyone?"

For a ten seconds that seemed to last an eternity, no one said a word.

"Well!" piped Earlene breezily, "that went well!" Looking at Thranduil and Thanadir, she added, "It would be wonderful, if you could please close the doors for us, at least most of the way, in case of more rain? We are all going inside for heavily spiked tea." Nodding in thanks to Thranduil's unspoken message that they would care for the doors, Earlene continued as she and Lorna returned to the house. "If you could be persuaded to telephone the distributor for me and arrange for payment by credit card, I'd be thrilled...you just saved this from being a complete shambles. And if you tell whoever it is that if they ever send that driver again, they'll not get paid, you can have all the pretzels. Aislinn at the grocery is going to have an earful, about this. And, you're not leaving until you tell me what your favorite baked goods are. Let's get the kettle on." Seeing that Earlene clenched her fists as she walked, Lorna continued to be entertained, listening as her friend softly muttered sentences that clearly contained phrases like "floater on top of the cesspool of humanity."

As the women went into the house and closed the door behind them, Earlene "went off," as she would term it.

"That absolute….FUCKER, she fumed. You know, there is about NOTHING that I hate worse than walking turds that do things like that to other people..and to top it off, can't even make a good job of it." Fuming, she tried to get the seal open on the whisky. "Damn it all. Can you get this open, Lorna? I'm too pissed off to open a bottle right at this exact minute." Handing it over to a completely amused Lorna, she held onto the countertop's edge, glowering, before dissolving into laughter. "Sure god, that was hilarious."

It was impossible to keep a straight face with Earlene laughing, so Lorna didn't try. She got the lid off the whiskey, at least. "There's only one real way to deal with people like that - well, technically there's two, but the other results in prison time, so...yeah. No. I'll find out if he's a local or not; if he is, he'll find himself without a functional truck tomorrow. You'll not find many like him here, but there's always a few. He'll be the last, though," she assured Earlene, raising the whiskey bottle. "Trust me."

"I won't keep up with you, but pass that bottle when you're done. Not that Thranduil doesn't know everything anyway, but I'm still maintaining my illusions with Thanadir. Maybe. I have a feeling still waters run deep, there."

Lorna took a swig off the bottle, but only one, and grimaced. "I think I might'v taught Thranduil the definitions'v a few Irish curses," she said, passing the bottle. "It's a good thing Thanadir can't read my mind without trying. I don't want to break the poor lad." Yes, he was probably thousands of years old, but he looked like he was around twenty, and quite delicate. She really didn't want to melt his brain with her cursing.

"They'll be okay," Earlene said as she swallowed what at least amounted to a shot and a half, and then set the bottle down and put on the kettle. It wasn't about trying to match Lorna, which was impossible, but rather to feel the burning straight down her esophagus that might let her get a grip on her volatile feelings. It impressed the hell out of her that in her own way, Lorna had managed a situation she would have failed at miserably. And she should have been better prepared, for something like that to happen. Shaking her head, she pulled her thoughts back into the present moment. "Thranduil has tremendous mental resilience, he hasn't been a king all these long years for nothing. And Thanadir...I'll try and talk to him more, about tomorrow night. Both he and I are on sort of a….I don't know how to call it. We usually speak to Thranduil with a certain amount of formality and respect, for obvious reasons. But from now on, that's out the window everywhere but their home in the woods. And it's weird, when you've been used to something else. Thanadir is actually doing really well, managing. Think of it as a sort of Stage One, for getting used to the human world. Let's face it, Thanadir may have to deal with far more than cuss words sooner or later. I shudder to think at what he will make of the more, ah, vulgar aspects of human nature. But, as we like to say at home, baby steps."

Lorna couldn't imagine having to speak to someone one way in one place, and differently in another. It really would be weird. So much of their lives was quite beyond her - she suspected it was even more beyond than she knew. "Well, he'll not find anyone in the village more vulgar than me, I think," she said. "Mick, maybe, but even he's got manners when he's dealing with company. Someday, if you lot choose to have them given identities the way I'll ask Niamh about, we've got to take them out'v the village. They need to be ready for that - not just all the people, but cars, pollution - all that. They might find it harder to deal with than they'd think." She wasn't going to leave Earlene to deal with that on her own - if it was just Thranduil, it wouldn't be so bad, but looking after the pair of them would be too much for one person to handle. While Lorna didn't think either of them would screw up at a crosswalk and step out into traffic or anything, it was a completely unfamiliar world to them. All sorts of things could go wrong. Hell, they might have a hard time dealing with being jostled around on a sidewalk.

"True," said Earlene thoughtfully. "But thankfully, there is time. And, we'd start small. I'd say at least the next week will be spent on learning language still. And...don't drop dead of surprise if future visits have you seeing more of them. More elves, I mean. I'm not one hundred percent certain how this will work exactly, but gardens may be happening here soon, at it won't be just me doing the work. None of the others will know a word of English, unless I'm much mistaken and….there is a lot about this I'm making up as I go along. Truth be told, I think we all are. I can tell you one thing, though; every one of them is kind, nice. I don't know how well I'll ever understand them, but I like them. If only because not a one of them would ever pull a stunt like that arse of a driver." With a shrug, she brought out mugs and tea bags.

The thought of more elves...well, if they were all anywhere as tall as Thranduil and Thanadir, she was going to feel even shorter than she already was. She doubted she'd get stepped on, at least. "Well, once the village has got used to Thranduil and Thanadir, more elves shouldn't be an issue," she said, leaning against the counter. "Though more than a few at once might be a bit...overwhelming." She wasn't entirely sure if that was the word she wanted, but it was the closest she had. "They're lucky you're the one who moved here. Anybody else - well, they could've got a sociopath, you know? And then they'd all still be hiding, maybe forever." She couldn't say she at all approved of how Thranduil had got things started, but it had worked out, amazingly enough. And it probably wouldn't have, with anybody but Earlene.

Boiling water was added to the mugs. "I'm not sure the others will come to town, at least for a long while. I get that sense that Thranduil and Thanadir are...all-around talented, if you will? I am doing what I can to help, but I also don't want to step on toes. This is Thranduil's party, in a lot of ways. I don't know the first thing about what all of his people need, but he does. I'm just here to live quietly, in the country." A chortling sound escaped her. "Speaking of party, what time are we to arrive at the pub, tomorrow? And not to be an idiot, but I've only ever ridden a bicycle to town. How long does it take to walk?"

Somehow, Lorna doubted it would ever be possible to truly live quietly with elves next door. No, they weren't loud or obnoxious - she doubted they were capable of being either, at least in the same way as humans - but they were so very different. "Well, don't let them step on yours, either," she said. "Not in your own home. If they do decide to head to town someday...well. You're the best one they could learn from." She laughed a little. "It takes me about twenty minutes to walk to town, but I'm short. Fifteen, maybe, at an actual brisk pace? Everyone'll start showing up at three or so, but you don't have to be there that early. I'll put up the rest'v Thanadir's roses tonight, if I can find a place for them all. I had no idea he could work that fast."

"Oh, it's all good", Earlene said absentmindedly. 'Their home is my home, as well; I live there some of the time. It's very nice. And at any rate, it would be rather a lot for me to manage some of the things I'd like to see happen here on my own. We'll see how the garden goes; I'm curious. They are basically incapable of doing anything that looks ugly, and while I know how to grow vegetables human-style...I'm kind of looking forward to seeing what they do." She pushed Lorna's mug toward her, just as she heard the front door open. "And twenty minutes it is. It sounds like if we aimed for four o'clock, we wouldn't go too far amiss?"

"That'd be about perfect," Lorna said, lifting the mug and inhaling before she sipped. "It'll give everyone time to get settled, maybe get a few drinks in if they feel the need." She paused. "So, I'll totally understand if this is one'v the things you can't tell me, but where do the elves live? I mean, other than somewhere deeper in the woods?"

 _Thranduil, you are certain I have your permission to speak of this?_

 _Yes, meluieg. Say what you feel you must._

Earlene took a sip of tea. "I can say, but we are trusting you to keep all this completely to yourself because for now, it's just much better that way. If we are asked tomorrow at the party, I'm afraid the answer is going to be just what you said, 'a home deeper in the woods,' which hopefully won't come off as too rude for lack of sharing. Their home is underground. It's impossible to locate unless they allow it, and a bad idea to try. The local lore about it being better for the uninvited to stay out of the woods...that's all good advice to follow. Thranduil calls it his Halls, which is perhaps what threw me. It's really, ah, well, it's a palace, though not like any you've ever seen. If the travel brochure were left up to me, I would have called it Immense Caverns of Stunning Beauty. 'Cavern' makes it sound like someplace dark or dreary, but it is neither. It is perhaps dimmer inside than being out in the sunshine, but for all that it's well-lit; everything is bathed in a soft glow. Wood and stone are everywhere, and even waterfalls. Honestly, if you want a good idea, go watch that second Hobbit movie they made, because while it isn't completely spot-on, neither is it too far off-base...and in a million years I'm not going to understand how that could happen. There aren't words, it's truly lovely. A zillion years ago, I think huge numbers of them lived there and now...just a few, on the grand scheme. I've only seen a few places in there, and have a lot to learn. I'm honestly not sure I can find my way to our rooms there yet, alone."

Lorna could brave the spiders, if she had to. (Seriously, though. She hated arachnids. Haaated them.) "You know, I was thinking the other night, because when I'm drunk and on my own I wonder about all sorts'v shite, but I wonder if this - what Tolkien wrote, what's shown in these movies - maybe it's just like…'genetic memory' isn't quite the term I want, but it's as close as I can get. Obviously elves are real, and they've been here Christ knows how long, and maybe Tolkien just sort'v tapped into something we'd all forgot? Something resonated in his head, and if the caverns in the movies look a lot like the elves' halls here...I don't know. It's the only theory I've got. After a certain amount'v time, I think the difference between legend and reality disappears, but something just sort'v sticks in the mind, hiding until it decides to let you know it's there."

"That's as good of a notion as any," pondered Earlene, shaking her head. "And while it will never not be weird on some level, it's kind of nice to know in a way that some kind of magic is left in the world."

Thranduil and Thanadir had now entered the room. "Here is tea for you both, and given that we have already helped ourselves to the whisky, would you like any in your tea?"

"Just tea, for both of us, thank you," Thranduil answered, his face breaking into a grin. "And Lorna, while I will be reflecting on what transpired outside for some time to come, the only thing that is truly obvious to me is that you managed that man by means worthy of one of my military captains of old. Though we did not understand every nuance, I think I speak for my seneschal as well when I say that watching that was thoroughly enjoyable." Earlene handed each of them their mugs, in turn.

"Freaked me the hell out at first," Lorna admitted, "but I think it's kind'v nice, too." Thranduil's words, however, utterly cracked her up - Shane, her old gang leader, would have been proud to hear it. It certainly made her more pleased than she probably ought to be. "It was a bit too enjoyable to do," she said. "He's lucky I didn't lamp him out, but he'll not be pulling that on anyone again. That's the thing with the Irish - sometimes we're the only ones who can manage each other, if you take my meaning. Earlene, I'll call the grocer's once I get home, because the less you know about what I've got planned, the better." She actually didn't have anything in particular planned just yet - his truck, if it was his and not the company's, was going to wind up with some very interesting alterations, and if she could discover where he lived...well. Lorna was not the vengeful, volatile person she had been in her youth, but fucking with her friends was still a bad idea. The difference was that her vengeance now was annoying and more-or-less harmless.

After they all finished their tea, Lorna bade them good luck until tomorrow, and they heard her motorcycle roar off into the distance. It was now late in the afternoon, and there was yet soup enough for dinner, too. A salad and some biscuits would more than take care of the meal. Turning to look at the sewing machine, she wondered how many...accessories...it would be handy for Thanadir to have. It went without saying, that whatever he was now using were materials they'd had stored since _...the dawn of time_ , Earlene thought. _One way to find out..._

"Thanadir, I would like to make sure you have enough supplies, for this machine. Do you need thread or spools or...anything?"

"I have much supplies in my rooms," he replied. "But I would like to learn more about this...machine."

Nodding, she began searching. If there was one thing she would give herself credit for without feeling like it was arrogance, it would be that she could use a search engine with the best of them. Especially Google. She used to joke that she would "commune with The Google." In moments, she had a video about the history of sewing machines, and it was only 25 minutes long. Deciding she'd watch it with him, she moved closer, adjusting to full screen. He offered to hold the computer on his own lap, and she did not object. Though, her neck was beginning to ache; her bravado with the barn door was now exacting a price.

 _Rest your head against his shoulder, Earlene. He will not mind. I will care for you soon._

It was a sign of how far her resistance was being broken down that she actually gingerly laid her head just a tiny bit against Thanadir's arm, to watch the video. Seconds later, his opposite arm came over and gently but firmly pressed her head against him. "Oh, fine," she mumbled under her breath, giving up entirely and slumping into the seneschal's shoulder. Which did allow her neck to feel better but... _whatever_. Far from being the boring lecture she had feared, the little documentary was fascinating. The demonstrations of how the machines actually worked were...ingenious, and that the Frenchman who invented the first successful sewing machines had his entire factory ransacked and busted up by a horde of angry tailors...well that was priceless too. But the best tidbit of all was finding out that the guy who invented Singer sewing machines "had eighteen children by assorted wives and mistresses" and died penniless after having first amassed a fortune. _Sure god, you can't make this stuff up_ , she thought with complete appreciation.

Thanadir had not moved a muscle this entire time, paying rapt attention to every minute of it. She could only imagine that with his extraordinary mind, he was probably already dreaming up ways to improve it. "Is there more you would like to see, Thanadir? I will find whatever you wish. At the very least, after seeing this, we should purchase extra needles for you. Or did Lorna give you extras?" He reached for the little box she'd left, and opened it. They saw that there were three bobbins and four new needles...that should do nicely, really. And knowing the elves they probably had a machine shop buried in those Halls...and who knew what else. If they could engrave rings, sewing machine needles shouldn't be too much of a leap. "Well if you ever want more, I can order them," she said. "Just tell me."

Thranduil walked to sit next to her, then easily lifted her into his lap. His hands probed her neck and upper back, eliciting stifled moans when he found the sore places. Held against him, she felt the same spreading warmth and tingling as at earlier times, and all her discomfort was gone afterward. Thanking him with a kiss of gratitude, she decided it was probably either time to study more Tengwar or make biscuits, and she knew which she'd rather do.

"Earlene, wait", Thanadir said. "I made something for you."

Wriggling off Thranduil's lap in the event he had other things to do, she waited and watched while Thanadir's hands went somewhere deep into the folds of his robes. Earlene could not help but wonder, _how many pockets were hidden in there?_ At last he extracted a stack of...papers? _Was that actually parchment?_ she goggled, amazed. He handed them to her, and she fanned them out to see. Thanadir had made her flash cards, for the Tengwar. "I read that these are used by humans to help learn," he said, looking at her questioningly to see if his effort had met with approval.

Turning each of them over in her hand, she saw that the name of each one was written in English letters...tinco, parma, etc. And he had even written the translation (tinco meant, "metal"). Though these letters took their names from Quenya words, not Sindarin, they were very important Quenya words, and worth knowing. And as she moved further through the stack, she saw that he had even written ones for the tehta vowels, the carriers telco and ára, and even consonant-vowel combinations against which to test herself. In short, this was an incredibly thoughtful gift that would help her more than he could realize. Why she hadn't thought of it herself, given how often she'd used these in college, she'd no idea.

Impulsively, she reached over and hugged him. "Thank you, Thanadir, thank you so much. They are wonderful." Quickly releasing him and looking through them some more, she did not notice the startled expression on his face. Thranduil was already telling him, silently, that this was a common human expression of appreciation and great thanks, which allowed him to compose his features by the time she looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude. No matter what Thranduil said or how many times he said it, she did not feel that the seneschal owed her anything, and on some deep level she still believed that all she had been was a world-class disruption to his entire existence. Perhaps she could be taught out of this frame of mind at some point, but it was going to take time. Right now, Thanadir could do no wrong, in her eyes.

Her enthusiasm for trying to learn had a new lease on life, and she remained in her seat, playing her mental games with herself. Lightly shuffling the cards, she chose three, at random, moving them around over and over until she couldn't get those wrong. Then she added in a fourth. She did not see that Thanadir watched her with great happiness etched on his face, as she spoke the barely voiced words more by moving her lips than anything else. Feeling immensely pleased, Thanadir returned to his computer screen.

When she had tenuously memorized about eight characters with good success, Earlene prepared to take a break on behalf of the biscuits, but not before something else occurred to her. "Thanadir, have you looked at ESL websites?" she asked very slowly. When he frowned and shook his head No, she added,"You should open a new tab in your browser, and Google 'ESL Learner.' ESL stands for, English as a Second Language; it is an acronym. There are learning tools to help people learn no matter what their original tongue is." She vaguely wondered if it was unfair of her to shove a word like "acronym" on him, but, there were about a thousand of them in the modern world, and he'd have to deal with the concept sooner or later.

It only took moments to make her dough, and soon she was free to be curious about what had so engrossed Thranduil, silently, all this time. "Can I ask what you are reading, Thranduil?"

He looked up with that expression of broken concentration that a thousand people must have seen on her face at one time or another, and Earlene instantly regretted the question. Before she could apologize, he raised his hand to silence her, as his face transformed. "I was reading the news, nothing more. I have been trying to gain a sense of human society and...it is overwhelming," he said, with a note of defeat in his voice. Stepping around to look at his screen, she saw that it was a news site that she would rate as less than stellar.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"I can divine that you do not approve of my choice of reading material," he chuckled.

"It is not that, exactly," she said. "Some news sources are known for better impartiality and a higher quality of journalism than others...and this is not among those. I like to read BBC News, and have for years; it comes out of England. You can narrow your choices to the topics that matter most to you, and you should find that you will not be overwhelmed by trying to keep up with the articles. At the very least you will not miss anything of great importance, either locally or globally." She showed him his options and how it was organized, and frowned to realize that he probably needed an email address. Which brought to mind another sensitive topic. "When you have a moment, I think the three of us should speak about an important matter, Thranduil."

"Then I have a moment, meluieg. Thanadir?"

Thranduil took over the too-often neglected wingback chair while Earlene sat with Thanadir. Earlene spoke slowly and distinctly. "This has to do with Lorna's helping us to obtain legal identities for you both. There was a part of the discussion that was not mentioned to either of you; that of names. Lorna said that in order for the attempt to go as smoothly as possible, that it would be best if everything about you seemed to blend in. And unfortunately, no Irish name is even close to Thranduil or Thanadir...and Thranduil, because of the films you have seen...I agree with Lorna that we should name you differently, but it is a sensitive thing to ask someone to abandon their name." She did not feel good about having to say this, but better now than later. Cautiously, she posed the question. "Did you understand, Thanadir?"

"I did," the seneschal replied. "It is not unusual for elves to have many names. Our names usually have a meaning, and when different roles were taken, sometimes names changed also. If this must be, I will take a new name."

"I would still call you Thanadir," Earlene said. "It would only be for use in the outside world. It happens sometimes, that a person's legal name and what they are called by family and friends is different."

Thranduil's expression was one of great contemplation, and a long while elapsed before he spoke. "I will be honest, I do not like this. But it is more necessary for me than for Thanadir. There is no choice. If this is to be accomplished, it is a sacrifice I will have to make."

This was the response Earlene had feared; she would hate it, were this demand made of her.

"And yet I see in your thoughts that you have already chosen a suitable name, Earlene?"

She could not determine from his demeanor if he was displeased with her, about this. "I was not trying to..."

Once again, he silenced her, but his voice became much gentler. "Please tell me, meluieg."

"Fionn. We thought Fionn would suit you as well as anything."

"Because...?" He stared at her as though he could not see into her as deeply as he wished, though she had no awareness of making any effort to thwart him.

"Because it is a very well-accepted Irish name, and because it means 'fair-haired', and in legend was the name of a mighty warrior."

"And for Thanadir?"

"We had not arrived at any ideas for him, but we would try to use similar care in choosing one. There are many names, from which you could make a selection. I think the concern mostly was, to not attract any attention by seeming other than...ordinary. I thought perhaps you would at least want to know about this, before Lorna brought more information." She did not meet his eyes, as the conversation turned into what felt like souring milk, to her.

Seeing, Thranduil quickly rose. "You did well, meluieg, and please forgive me for my reactions being less than...joyous. I must try harder, to be sensitive to your feelings. I wanted this, and it is poorly done of me to cause you grief for doing as I have asked."

Earlene nodded. While she would prefer that her husband was less impulsive in some aspects of his behavior, it was appreciated even more that he was quick to apologize. There had been a junior partner at her law firm with a similar sort of personality, from whom she had never once heard a single word that might indicate regret for his occasional barbed comments. While she had ignored him, content in the knowledge that he would never make senior partner on account of this deficit, it had still grated. Which is why the courtesy Thranduil now displayed was much appreciated.

As Thranduil watched his two favorite subjects, he realized how much had changed, so quickly. Faithful Thanadir, who he had known from his earliest memories, seated next to the new yet no less beloved wife he never meant nor expected to have. _And where am I leading them?_ That he had no clear answer both worried and excited him, as he forced his attention back to the subject under discussion. "Thanadir's name has a meaning of 'trueness, enduring, someone who is steadfast," he offered. "Is there something Irish that can reflect this?"

Earlene asked Thanadir with her eyes and by pointing if she might use his computer for a moment, and had it obligingly placed in front of her. Very few keystrokes and clicks later, she replied. "Yes, there is. 'Cian.' This is the name of another legendary warrior, and according to this means 'ancient and enduring.' " Earlene regarded Thanadir and thought that a finer choice would not be possible, but waited to see as she slid the computer back over to him.

"Cian," Thanadir echoed, a small smile on his lips. "It is well, Earlene. I thank you both, that you would try to find something that means the same."

"This much, then, is settled," concluded Thranduil. "I, for one, would like to see to repairing your barn door, Earlene."

"You do not wish Ian to manage it? Such as this is, after all, why he is hired," she noted.

Thranduil met her gaze levelly. "While that is true, meluieg, what you cannot know is how much his back pains him, or that he is not fully well and becomes dizzy at times. Thanadir and I are strong, and in perfect health. I thought it would be a kindness."

Wishing to shrink into the sofa cushions in humiliation, she looked away. "I did not know," she said in a very small voice.

"It was not said to cause you to feel badly, Earlene. Ordinarily I would agree with your outlook; I felt you deserved an explanation. Come, we have better things to worry about." Standing, he waved them toward the door.

"I thought all it needed was a good layer of grease and perhaps one or two extra whacks with a hammer," Earlene opined. "At least, before I noticed that the stop was rusted away...that will need replacing; I will have to get the measurement of it to order another."

"I can make a new one," said Thanadir. "There is a list of small things I must make soon; this would be no trouble."

"You...there is some manner of forge, then, and you have skill at smithing?" Earlene wondered just how extensive Thanadir's list of talents might prove to be.

"Yes," he answered simply.

Raising her eyebrows, she said no more, and lifted the ladder from its hook on the barn wall. Climbing up, it was as she suspected; if the track had seen lubricant in the last seventy years it would have been a miracle...and yet, the condition of the metal was not at all bad, considering.

"There is a grease gun and some other needed items on the shop bench," she said, descending. "A slight mess and some moving around of this door should fix the larger problem." Returning momentarily with a can of WD-40 and the gun, she explained. "This is an aerosol can. And for humans, WD-40 is useful second only to duct tape, in my opinion. It is an amazing solvent and lubricant, good for fixing almost anything metal that squeaks, jams, or otherwise will no longer cooperate." Showing both ellyn how to use any spray can by noting which way the nozzle aimed and pressing the button. She sent Thanadir up the ladder to spray down the track, while showing Thranduil the operation of the grease gun. Under the force of their pushing, soon each side of the door was moving freely again. Lastly, Thanadir closely examined the undamaged stop, so as to duplicate it. Rolling her eyes, she realized that he would do this from memory... _elves_ , she marveled, only a little jealous of his abilities. If she could not be one of them, it was at least a privilege to be near them.

Thranduil watched her, fascinated. _I wonder, if she had the choice, what would it be? There was one, long ago, granted this gift..._ immediately, he dismissed the thought as both unprofitable and impossible.

He saw Earlene turn fully toward him, her face expressionless, and with a light in her eyes that should not have been able to be there. A breath of wind blew her hair back from her shoulders, and he perceived a flicker of immeasurable power. And then just as swiftly, it was gone, and she seemed as she ordinarily did. Smiling, she reached her hand to him. "I will lead you," she said, not noticing that this statement was a complete non sequitur.

Thranduil took her hand, attending her very carefully. "Meluieg, why did you just say that? Lead me where?"

"Home." There was a pause during which she shook her head, and replied, "To the house, I think," though she could not hide from him that she was now confused, and had no understanding either of whence the words came.

He caressed her cheek with a smile, but inside of himself was completely taken aback. _What had just happened?_ He returned with her to the cottage, but would not forget this occurrence anytime soon.

Though he could hardly believe he was thinking this, it appeared to be time for Star Trek. Bringing the two of them inside, he announced that they would watch television. And with television not being Tengwar, Earlene brightened immediately. He asked for her to make hot cocoa for the three of them, and she now wondered what was the matter with him; it was not like Thranduil, to enable the consumption of sweets. He seemed quiet, to her, as though something occupied his mind...but he often seemed that way, so she dismissed it and did as he had asked. And since he was distracted anyway, it was the perfect time to bury the thought deeply that involved purchasing marshmallows for herself and Thanadir, next trip to town. While the milk heated, she traded her work clothing for her elven dress.

This was a classic 'evil twin' episode, Earlene recalled, "The Enemy Within." And now she would have to get hold of her thoughts, for Thranduil's sake, as they all settled in on the sofa. She bit her lip as the seneschal swung her legs into his lap again, and slipped off her house shoes...and then she connected the dots. _I am being mentally silenced with footrubs?_ she asked her husband.

 _It is most effective, and you enjoy it_ , he retorted.

She willed herself to focus solely on Thanadir's kindness to her, in order to not reflect on whether she felt there was Good Thranduil/Evil Thranduil. The King rolled his eyes and sighed beneath her but said nothing, at which point she could finally drop her mental narrative and pay attention. When the story concluded, he announced his further intention to watch the last Hobbit film, and would she please see to anything else needed for dinner? Rising, she did as he asked, wondering at the turn the day had taken...but not wishing to complain, considering the alternative.

There was little to do, given the ease of making biscuits. Though, these would be cheddar-herb biscuits; there was just enough left of a delicious sharp cheese for the recipe. In minutes, everything was set so that she could have the meal hot and baked in any given quarter-hour. Gathering them once again, Thranduil began the film. Since Thranduil had learned to use the remote control he had rarely relinquished it, providing Earlene with no end of amusement.

Earlene felt vaguely vindicated at correctly guessing that Smaug was killed, and still could not imagine the courage that would be needed to face such a creature. _Like a dinosaur with a college degree, and employed as a very well-paid lobbyist_ , she rather thought. And then it seemed as though the story was driven forward by everyone being stubborn, and everyone being greedy. This, too, she found entirely believable. Increasing rumblings of discontent from the King told her that she was likely about to have an earful. _Wait for it._..and sure enough, the pause button was employed.

"I do not understand. Surely this is not what was recorded, about me? We came in truth to seek some of the treasure of the mountain, not knowing the Dwarves had survived. But we were not there with the intention of fighting to claim the wealth of Erebor, and nor was it on a chance whim that we aided those who were suffering." Lacking any information or perspective by which to respond, there was only one thing she could offer.

"I am sorry, for the portrayal. All I can tell you is, the truth of many tales is twisted by those who make films, if it is believed that by doing so the story will be more interesting to those paying to be entertained. The desire to earn money affects a great many things, among humans."

With a sound something like a grunt, he continued the film. "Did the Arkenstone really look like that?" she could not resist asking.

"It was more beautiful even than that," said Thanadir, to her surprise. "It had a light, a fire within it, more even than this. Only a Silmaril of Fëanor has ever been fairer than the Arkenstone of Erebor."

 _There is that name again.._.and Earlene did not inquire further. The battle scenes amazed her.

"This much, is correct," Thranduil said. "This battle was a great sorrow, as they all were."

"It was...awful. Many of our people went to the Halls of Námo, that day," Thanadir mourned.

"You can...fight, like that?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I believe I mentioned that already, meluieg, in answering Lorna's questions."

"So you did, but..." _but somehow seeing makes a different impact. I wish I could shoot well, or use a weapon like that..._ her one bizarre regret in academia was that she'd had the chance to study fencing, and declined it in favor of...Latin. _What was I thinking? Oh yeah, practical, sensible Earlene, that's what._

Thranduil's eyebrows rose in surprise at seeing this desire on her part, just in time for perhaps the most offensive scene in the film to transpire. "WHO IS THIS TAURIEL?" he yelled, now completely indignant. "None of this ever happened! I had my shortcomings then as now, Earlene, but this is...this is..."

"Character assassination?" she volunteered meekly.

"Precisely!"

The rest of the film wound down through more fighting and death, though she had to admit that the notion of riding war elks and war boars completely entranced her. Not to mention the war goat. Sadness filled her when the dwarves were killed, especially Thorin. He regained his good sense in the end, and had fought bravely. _What a world theirs was_ , she reflected, shaking her head. _Somehow orcs and trolls seem more understandable that terrorists and nuclear proliferation, but it's all the same in the end._ And it went without saying, that Thranduil would never forgive these films for their depiction of him as being so cold and uncaring. As the credits ran, she put the soup on to heat and placed the biscuits in the oven...the timed preheat feature had rapidly become very popular with her, for helping manage the vagaries of cooking for elves.

While they ate, at one point Thranduil fired off quite a lot of what sounded like instructions to Thanadir. Tired of asking him to slow down for her sake, she considered that perhaps it was his way of still enjoying private communication with his seneschal. But no, that made no sense; he could communicate by thought if he chose... _whatever._ She kept hearing "i grist" which very much sounded like a word she ought to know...but he current exasperation with the language would more than allow her not to look it up until much later. Between all the little things that had swirled through her mind today and the thought of tomorrow's party, she felt more tired with every passing minute...and while it was not very late, neither was it very early. When the dishes were cleared, she affectionately wished Thanadir a good night. Nothing sounded better than a hot bath, and sleep.

"Earlene, I am going to accompany Thanadir back to the Halls, but will return quite soon. I will not abandon you," he said fondly.

They departed, carrying the heavy sewing machine as if it were made of paper. Tea sounded good, while she ran the tub and made her preparations. Within ten minutes, she found herself nodding off, and realized that this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Before she could completely fall asleep and wake up in cold water, she dried herself. The bed would not be warm without Thranduil, so she found her oversized flannel shirt. If he didn't care for it, he could do something about it later. But once in bed, curled into a ball, she found that she could only recall the images of him fighting like that. Earlene was not prone to admiring violence, but...watching that had been so incredibly sexy. It had taken all her willpower, at the time, to divert her thoughts onto something else. And now that her thoughts were not diverted, her desire for him was spiking, with sharp and nearly uncomfortable twinges of warmth and want coming from below the waist.

Snickering at herself in the dark room, she reflected. _These are exactly the kind of thoughts that landed you in this mess in the first place, Earlene._ Shrugging, the counterargument came easily. _Well there is probably something deeply Freudian about seeing your drop-dead gorgeous and powerful partner waving his swords around, and, I'm only human._ _And aren't swords another euphemism for...?_ now she was giggling, and not making progress on falling asleep at all.

"You wish a sword to be sheathed, meluieg?"

Too amused to feel embarrassed that he had overheard this random and carnal mental outpouring, she only laughed harder. "If it will help me fall asleep, yes, you may demonstrate your skills at arms."

How he could possibly demonstrate so quickly, she would never know. _Elves._

The brief shriek of the kettle woke her. Reluctantly forcing one eye open gave her knowledge that meant one of two things. Either today was shite weather, or it was only just dawn; only those two things could explain the particular quality of the light filtering through the bedroom window.

 _It is the latter, Earlene. I had not meant to wake you, I am sorry. Do you wish to sleep longer?_

Given the answer was yes, but that she equally knew she would not be able to return to slumber, she swung her feet off the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes. Thranduil seated himself next to her on the bed, placing his arm around her shoulder, sitting with her quietly as she awakened. With a sigh of contentment, she leaned her head against his chest, appreciating the affection he showed her.

 _Tonight is our party,_ he said, with great eagerness in his voice. It cheered her to hear that he was looking forward to this possibly rambunctious and assuredly Irish mortal celebration.

Turning his head, he kissed her head tenderly as he held her to him. Why she merited being coddled so nicely was unknown, but it was very, very pleasant.

"You take exercise, sometimes, in the morning? Could I watch?"

"Of course," she murmured. _Even his odd requests were becoming normal_ , she mused. Yoga pants, layered tops and a yoga mat later, she tried to immerse herself in her routine. Emphasis on, 'tried'.

"What is the point of this?" he asked, fascinated.

"It is many things," she tried to explain. It stretches our muscles, and builds strength and coordination. And it is not just the motions of the body, but the breathing has to also happen in a certain manner as part of the discipline. It is also necessary to focus the mind on the sensations in the body."

Mystified, he continued to watch her, seeing in her thoughts that some of these poses had names, and noting that some of her muscle groups struggled more with what she asked of them than others. He now understood it would be best not to speak to her, and so he moved to another location and silently began to match her poses. As his body simply did these things readily, he did not fully understand, except to see that for her some of this was difficult. The routine took about a half hour, after which he asked if she was hungry?

"Not just yet," she said. "I will prepare breakfast in another half-hour, if you do not mind? Though if you do, I am happy to..."

The familiar hand was held up. "Actually, I would like very much for you to wear shoes, perhaps the kind in which you would run? There is something by way of exercise I thought we might try, but it will be in your barn."

With a grin, she inferred by the location what the exercise would _not_ be, thereby eliminating one possibility.

"No," he laughed. "Though, I appreciate your desire for my body, more than you can know," he said, with sparkling eyes.

Before she could spend too much time thinking on how anyone could not desire his body, she went to find the shoes. _He could not possibly mean that his first wife...? No, that would be ridiculous. I mean, **look** at him..._

In the other room, Thranduil looked up at the ceiling, perhaps beginning to understand more why she did this sometimes. _If you only knew, meluieg. I mean exactly that. The sight of me was no enticement, after our son was conceived...but these are not burdens you need to carry._ He shook off the memories, full of gratitude that he now found himself no longer wanting.

Walking to the barn, Earlene saw he had a huge smirk across his face. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?" she said, teasing him.

"And miss the chance to watch mortal impatience?"

"Ooooh, how about _immortal_ impatience?" she fired back, grabbing his wrist with both of her hands and digging in her feet so as to be a completely ineffective anchor against his progress. She laughed uproariously to see that she was de facto waterskiing over the grass, since he was so strong he simply pulled her along...provided she could keep her grip on him. "You might at least pretend that I am slowing you down a little for the sake of my feelings," she teased, pretending to be miffed.

Rolling his eyes, he raised his hand over his head, lifting her off of her feet. "Is this better?"

She continued to glare at him, and did not let go until they were almost at the doors. "It will still cost you a kiss, if you want me to let go."

"I accept," he said, swinging her around to hold her against him. Kissing her passionately and deeply, she realized too late that this had been a terrible idea, from the point of view of her ability to think of anything but making love to him.

"That will teach you to challenge your husband," he said with kindness and humor. "But truly, I did bring you here to show you something I thought you might enjoy. And if you behave yourself, perhaps I can be persuaded to indulge your other wishes as well."

"I am paying rapt attention," she said, barely able to stifle her grin, as she entered the barn. Frowning, she saw an...effigy, of straw, secured to one of the giant timbers that supported the barn roof. "It is early to celebrate Samhain, is it not?" she teased, confused.

"Meluieg."

Earlene turned to him to now see that he held two swords, one in each hand. The sight rendered her speechless. Intrigue, lust, curiosity, admiration and surprise all swirled around her mind in equal measure.

Thranduil had to work very hard indeed to not let her honest response sway his intentions, but he managed. "You wished you could use a weapon, I heard in your thoughts. If this is true, I would gladly teach you. Obviously there is no need of this skill in your world, but it is challenging to both the mind and body."

"I cannot say whether I have any aptitude for this, but...I am interested to try. I only ask that if after a certain amount of effort I am not happy with the pursuit, that I be allowed to discontinue? I have never even held a...what manner of sword, is that?"

"I accept your terms, Earlene. And, this is an elven longsword. I believe you already have the strength needed to begin to learn the use of it."

He showed her how to hold the weapon, and the footwork and motions for two different drills. He emphasized that she move in such a way that the weapon was an extension of her arm, and many other nuanced tidbits that amounted to proper technique and avoiding fatigue. To her, there were elements of yoga, in this. When he was satisfied, he revealed to her the purpose of the exercises, pairing with her to practice a particular motion that counteracted one of his own. She was pressed for over an hour, but did not notice that so much time had passed. Finally, with praise and a kiss, he stopped the lesson.

Earlene knew she was a sweaty mess, and thoughts of a quick shower loomed rather high on her list of interests. But she had enjoyed this, more than she thought she would. "Thank you, Thranduil. What you taught me must be so...remedial, to you...but...swords," she laughed. "When you told me I would have unique opportunities in your service, this is not one at which I could have guessed."

With cheeks of the rosiest red, Earlene did not manage to shower alone. For the pleasure he gave her there, she would willingly have worked through the entire morning. Afterward, he had to hold onto her carefully, so that she did not fall. Dazed, she could not accept that so much sensuality could come from the use of one bar of soap. Her interest in breakfast all but forgotten, she learned that Thanadir would not come until lunchtime, which enabled her to ponder a fresh round of lust. Thranduil laughed. "I have created a monster, and have no one to blame but myself," he said, not in the least sorry.

The tone of voice in which she now spoke was grave. "It is often said that this kind of physical desire does not last, between those who marry. Or even those who partner without marriage," she added. "I am inexperienced but...I hope so very much that wanting each other in this way does not fade. I mean, I can understand arriving at a place where I am not constantly like a cat in heat, but I would be very sad, to lose this."

He grew very earnest, gathering her close to him. "It is up to both of us, meluieg. It comes from cherishing each other. Caring about the other's feelings, making the effort every day to ensure that the other knows they are loved and appreciated. Doing whatever is necessary to heal any hurts that are caused. Communicating honestly, openly." He chuckled. "That last part, I am the one who must make the most effort."

"I cannot promise I will be perfect, but you will have my best effort, Thranduil, for as long as I can give it."

"And you will have mine, Earlene," he whispered. He had no intention of making the same mistakes twice.

By the time noon rolled around, one kind of appetite was finally quelled, and now she was genuinely hungry. "I am starving you, in my selfishness," she lamented as she finally dressed before Thanadir could arrive. His magnificent form was stretched across her bed, appearing much like a pleased and satisfied cat.

"I am not complaining, Earlene. I too apparently had a different kind of appetite; do not berate yourself for what we have enjoyed."

"I will add that to my list of 'commands that are easy to obey,' " she teased.

"Then here is another one. I will help you prepare a simple meal that will not take much time or effort; from what has been described to me, we will eat in plenty tonight. And then we will have a pleasant afternoon. If you feel sleepy, you should rest after you have eaten; we may be out late tonight. This is a special day; I wish for all of us to enjoy it."

Lifting his hand to her face, she nuzzled her cheek against his open palm before kissing the back of his hand in love and affection. "Your command is my wish," she whispered softly. She too, looked forward to this party. It was the closest thing they would have to a human wedding reception, and no matter what would be a night to remember.


	20. Chapter 20

It had been a few years since Lorna had planned a wedding party, and she'd never tried it without either Gran or Mairead, but she was pretty sure she and the locals had done well enough.

There was plenty of greenery to be found outside the forest, so she'd put together bouquets of ferns and wildflowers, placing one at the center of each table - vases were in somewhat short supply, so they'd been borrowed from houses all over Lasg'len. The garlands that wound about the pillars at the bar corners were by necessity fake, unfortunately, but they were filled with Thanadir's ribbon roses. There were so many of them that even having put pins together, Lorna still had to struggle to arrange them even halfway artistically, but she'd managed it...eventually. If he ever needed to make anything again for some reason, she at least knew now to give him a number limit beforehand.

Mick had actually been a great help, even with his broken hand - you didn't make it as a mechanic without a certain amount of dexterity, after all. (He'd also helped her hunt down the delivery driver who had tried to stiff Earlene. Bastard probably got a very large surprise when he tried to start his truck and discovered it had a mass of pressed, pickled cabbage in place of his radiator.) Being much taller than her, he managed to string up the slightly rusted metal lanterns she'd brought from home - yet another random possession of Gran's she'd never got around to getting rid of. The panes of glass were overlain with a delicate tracery of metal vines and leaves, so that the candlelight would cast their shadow over everything it touched. Given that it was elves they were dealing with, she figured they ought to go with a somewhat nature-ish theme, insofar as they actually could.

She'd made sure Mick had a clean, ironed shirt to wear, and a pair of jeans that didn't have oil stains. It was the best she was going to get out of him, but at least they were both presentable. She'd already seen some of the older ladies out and about in their church clothes; it would, as she'd expected, be a mixed bag as far as clothing went, which was just as well. Maybe Earlene wouldn't feel awkward in such a beautiful dress if at least some of the locals actually looked respectable, too.

The mood about town somehow managed to be tense and excited in equal measure. People wanted to see the elves, the people of the stories and legends the village had handed down for God knew how long, but at the same time, it scared them a bit. Lorna couldn't blame them in the least - when she'd first seen Thranduil and Thanadir, they'd been intimidating as hell. She'd tried to do her best to assure everyone that the elves weren't something they needed to be afraid of.

"They're a bit weird, sure," she'd told John, while he polished the bar and she strung up garland, "but they're not human. They're not going to be like us. They're as curious about us as we are about them."

"What do they expect out'v us?" he asked.

"To be us, mostly," she said, stabbing her thumb with a pin. Dammit. "I've tried to let them know what they're in for, in dealing with the Irish. They've handled me just fine."

"And if they can handle Lorna, they can handle anyone," Mick snickered.

She glowered at him. "Shut it, you. Seriously, though, just do what you'd always do - though try and mute your accents a bit, will you?" She didn't know how well Thranduil's telepathy would work outside the forest, and of course poor Thanadir's English was still a work in progress. Earlene at least had practice, though Lorna was willing to bet she hadn't yet heard much broad Irish. "One'v them, Thanadir, his English isn't so great yet, so if you talk to him, do it slow and clear. He seems to be bloody curious as to how human things work, so even if you can't hold much'v a conversation with him, he'd be happy as hell to inspect whatever you might hand him. Also, don't even try to get them drunk. It won't work."

"How d'you know that?" John asked.

"Because I tried," she said, tacking up the last of the garland, "and failed. Miserably. They've not got our metabolisms - apparently their alcohol would poison us, or something like that."

She hopped down off the ladder. "And Mick, I'm giving you the same warning I've given myself: don't light anything on fire."

"That was _one_ time," he protested.

"I know," she said flatly. "I was _there_. Let's not repeat it, shall we?"

He shook his head, muttering, while Lorna and John finished up the particulars. "Is he going to expect to be treated like a king?" he asked at last, and Lorna wasn't surprised at the disdain in his voice.

"No," she assured him. "He's got his land and we've got ours. He was very clear about that. Just for Christ's sake try not to be rude, all right? Whatever he might be in his own home, he's still your neighbor. He won't be expecting any...titles, or anything like that from us, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite. Just treat him like any other new neighbor you actually want to have a good opinion'v you, and don't go messing about with poor Thanadir just because he can't speak English very well. He's a nice lad, and I'm pretty sure upsetting him would be like kicking a kitten." Logically, she knew that he was probably thousands of years old, and some sort of warrior in addition to whatever the hell it was he actually did for Thranduil, but he _looked_ about twenty, and was so earnestly curious and doe-eyed that part of her was oddly protective of him. She didn't want that curiosity tainted by human stupidity - not yet, at any rate. It would happen sooner or later, but she wanted him to have a few actually good experiences with humans first. All too often, people met earnestness with derision, and the thought of some arsehole leaving him crestfallen...no. Never in all her life had she experienced the kind of wonder he'd displayed at her sewing machine; her life being what it had been, she doubted she was even capable of it. _He_ was, and she wanted to protect that in him, as long as she could.

Having been helped to assemble Thanadir's dress on her to its best effect, Earlene had decided to leave her hair down, though she did go to the unusual step of bringing out her hair dryer and round brush so as to ensure it styled perfectly, with the ends curling under in an even manner. Though it could not be helped, what of the diamond necklace showed would already be enough of a spectacle; wearing her hair up to show it in its entirety seemed like too much for her to endure. And as there was simply nothing to be improved with either of the ellyn, she left well enough alone. Though, perhaps out of regard for her general sensibilities, they had both made an effort to choose clothing that was not completely archaic. Thanadir had taken the time to look at hundreds of pictures of modern men's clothing, and had perhaps been up all night with his new sewing machine, for all she knew. They both wore breeches that laced at the sides, not the front, made from light and very fine wool, not leather. The usually skin tight seams had been re-done, so that the fabric covered their boots instead of being inside of them, as per their usual habit. This gave the illusion that they wore something like ordinary trousers. They both wore long-sleeved tunics that had been altered to fit more like shirts; and each had some sort of form fitting undershirt as well. Both carried cloaks but did not wear them in the warmth of the afternoon, and Thanadir had sewn a lined woolen cloak for Earlene as well, with a hood. It would be dark, and much colder, by the time of their departure.

To say that it felt odd to be setting out with the two of them was an abysmal understatement, for Earlene. She felt like she was going to the Twilight Zone; to a combination Halloween Party, wedding reception, drunken fraternity event, and episode of The Andy Griffith show, Ireland style, all at once. That she was walking on the road to town in an elven-made dress and diamond necklace just made it all the more bizarre, in her eyes.

Thraduil rumbled with humor, beneath her arm. "Do not worry, Earlene. Whatever happens, we will all be fine. We have fought in wars; we are hardly worried about a party."

"Well if you put it that way…" said Earlene, realizing that he was right, as usual.

Even Thanadir laughed. "I am looking forward to this, Earlene. It has been a very long time without seeing interesting things."

Grinning back at him, Earlene answered slowly. "We humans have a saying, Thanadir. 'Be careful what you wish for, you might get it'." Both ellyn thought this was very funny, but at least no more discussion of worries occurred during their walk. Earlene pointed out the grocery, and the liquor store, and then the Spotted Dick was within view at last. _They're right, Earlene reassured herself. What could possibly go wrong?_ Pulling open the door, and holding it for the elves to walk in ahead of her, she stepped inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Two blinks told her that there were more people than she'd ever seen and then her mouth fell open, to see the decorations.

The odd amalgamation of tension and excitement had only grown as morning gave way to afternoon. Aislinn, and Bridie Dooley, who owned the chemist shop with her husband, had joined in on the decorating, and Lorna had reassured them that they had nothing to worry about, too - it went like that all day, until she was tempted to just get a megaphone and shout it off the roof of the pub. Word eventually got around - as well as a hint that maybe nicer clothes ought to be thought of. (This was rank hypocrisy for Lorna; she didn't own anything that wasn't jeans or a flannel shirt, and had no desire to.)

Naturally, more than a few of them had already been at the alcohol, but nobody was ossified yet. A gaggle of the older ladies had taken over a corner, muttering to one another, while Bridie's husband Jack was trying to corral their two children. The village kids were incapable of being unnerved by this whole proceeding - they were merely enthralled by the idea of anything supernatural, especially something that had lived outside their village for ages.

Lorna herself downed a shot when she heard the crunch of approaching footsteps outside; only one set, but she figured that was just because the elves were silent bastards who could easily scare the life out of someone if they weren't careful. "All right, you lot," she said. "Nobody's going to get eaten, you're not to try to maul anyone...just act like you're about to meet new priests." When the door opened, she raised a comically oversized beer mug. "Welcome to Lasg'len, you two. Earlene, Jesus don't you look gorgeous."

"Thank you," Earlene said loudly enough to be heard in what was the sudden, sepulchral quiet of the pub. To dispel any confusion, she took Thranduil's hand and held it tightly, bringing him next to her. Though she knew full well that every pair of eyes in the place were boring holes through them, she ignored it; what else could be expected? In her best effusive tone of voice, she announced, "And thank you to everyone, so much, for inviting us here. There aren't words, for how kind it is of you, and how much we appreciate that you would celebrate our marriage with us." Smiling in what she hoped was a convincing manner, she released her husband's hand and looked back to Lorna with an expression that meant _"that's all I've got, and where the hell is the beer?"_ Thranduil and Thanadir stood just behind her, looking happy in a nondescript manner. Needless to say, Earlene was amazed at how quickly Thranduil had stepped back.

Lorna, having anticipated this, had a mug of beer on standby - the pub's brew, not her own. She wasn't going to make _that_ mistake twice, though she'd brought some of her own for the elves.

Mick, bless him, was the first to raise a glass. "Congratulations, both'v you," he said. "I hope Lorna's warned you what an Irish wedding party's like."

"Of course I did, you eejit," she said. "You think I'd inflict you lot on them without preparation?"

"Thanks," John said, more than a little dryly. Lorna could still see the sweat gathered at his temples, however; he hadn't managed to drink his nerves away yet.

The children stared at the three with open fascination, their parents unable to stop it, but kids were kids. Staring was what they did.

"Mick, why don't you introduce everyone?" Lorna prompted, wondering if she was going to have to poke him with a stick to shift him. It was his village, not hers.

"Er...right," he said, downing half his mug at one go. "This here's John - the pub's his. Bridie and Jack've got the chemist's shop - those two rugrats there are theirs," he added, looking down at Eamonn and Orla. Lorna prayed they wouldn't do anything ridiculous, like try to climb the elves like trees. "Ian I think you know-" the old man nodded "-and Rory, and...oh, for Christ's sake, introduce yourselves, will you? You're not bloody mute."

Lorna snorted into her mug, choking Guinness out her nose. She'd done her best to warn Thranduil and Thanadir about Irish humans. Hopefully it had been enough.

Thranduil laughed loudly, his rich and pleasant voice filling the place. "I will help. I am Thranduil, Earlene's husband. This is Thanadir (the seneschal smiled and nodded his head at no one in particular), and we have very much looked forward to sampling your….Guinness, I believe it is called?"

Earlene was suitably impressed at this tactic...it was truly hard to go wrong in a pub by asking for liquor. And better yet paying for liquor...she had an idea. Approaching John, she asked quietly for two of the largest mugs of Guinness he had in his possession, figuring that it would take something like a half gallon just to get those two even rolling. Once he'd procured the filled mugs, she discreetly pulled a 100€ note from a hidden pocket of her dress (another clever addition for which she now officially adored the seneschal) and slipped it to the barkeep. His eyes widened as his lips began to form a protest, but Earlene quickly picked up his hand and plunked it down on top of the bill, not about to listen to it. "Elves can drink far more than we can. You may find this doesn't cover it. And if it doesn't, I'll be miffed if you don't tell me," she said, smiling sweetly in that way she had when what she really meant was _don't argue._

Carrying the mugs back carefully, she handed them to the ellyn, surprised at how much they weighed. Then again, her grip on them hadn't been the best.

Mick drew a deep breath, downed the rest of his beer, and started ooching his way toward the elves. He didn't really have any idea how to properly approach them; Lorna had said he might as well just go up and say "hi", but that sounded a bit...underwhelming. Still, he managed it, trying to ignore her completely unsubtle thumb's-up.

"So," he said, casting about for anything remotely resembling eloquence, and failing completely. "Lorna's told me some about you two, and I was thinking - if you ever need a car, for whatever reason, my van's available." He wondered if they were ever intending to learn to drive. If so, he hoped it was someone's gran that taught them, not one of the younger eejits. (And not Aislinn. God love her, but she was the most incompetent person he'd ever seen behind the wheel of a car.)

Earlene decided to intervene on this one. "Thank you, Mick, that is very generous of you. I can drive, but you already know I've decided not to get a license here. And while it would be interesting to teach Thanadir and Thranduil, we're a bit far from qualifying for licenses for them, either. We're stuck on smaller hurdles like...legal identities. But if for some reason we ever need transport, I'll be sure and look to hire you, if you'll allow it. A village this small, I doubt exactly has a regular taxi service." She desperately hoped that that was a suitably polite way to respond, knowing that he'd come over in the first place to try and break the ice. "How's your arm healing up?" she asked, sincerely interested. That and, the first rule of conversation was to ask other people things about themselves, since usually others were capable of talking about _that_ subject, if nothing else.

"I'm the closest thing to a taxi we've got," he admitted. "When I can drive, anyway. Cast's got another two and a half weeks before I can get it off. I'll actually have my shop back." Truth be told, he wasn't actually looking forward to it. Lorna might rag the life out of him, and about drive him to distraction with the whole 'cleaning' business, but it was nice having someone else to work with. "And I'll haul things without ripping you off - Lorna, ah, told me about that." Probably safest not to mention what they'd actually done to the bastard's truck. Long habit kept him quiet when it came to breaking the law, even with minor offences.

Orla Dooley, age six, was the only one of the village children ready to approach the elves just yet. While Mick offered his services, she meandered over and looked up at Thranduil and Thanadir, peering through a fringe of red hair. "You're both tall," she observed, in the manner of someone stating something very important. "Really, _really_ tall. Can you touch clouds?"*

Thranduil smiled in a way that Earlene had never seen before, as the young girl tugged at the leg on his trousers. Kneeling down, in the blink of an eye he had the child held in his arms, at nearly the height of his shoulders. "Let's find out together," he said, "for now you are as tall as I am. Shall we reach up high?" he said, slowly extending his arm toward the ceiling, which for a pub, was decently tall. Orla, her face lit up with excitement, mirrored his gesture, until the two sets of fingers were both straining toward the ceiling, still well out of reach. A look of profound disappointment settled over Thranduil's face. "I am afraid I cannot touch the ceiling in here. Could you?" he asked hopefully.

"Nooo…" the child trailed off, realizing now that clouds were entirely out of the question. But just as suddenly, her little face brightened. "But it was fun to try," she whispered to him, in that excessively charming way small children have of believing that they are rather quiet, when in fact everyone within ten yards can actually hear them. Orla continued to examine Thranduil with open curiosity, finding that he did not seem so very different than people, for all she had been told that he was an elf. Bravely, she reached out to touch his flaxen hair and found that it delighted her; it was as soft as silken threads. And then her eyes alighted on his ears, that came to modest points. With a gasp of happiness, she realized that there _was_ something different, and now she was beside herself.

"Did you know your ears are pointed?" she whispered excitedly to him, so that naturally the entire room heard. It was only fair to say that by now, every heart there was well on its way to melting, as they watched the easy and loving manner of the elf-king with this small one. Whatever else they worried about, no one that could be so kind to such a little one was likely to eat anyone alive, at least not anytime soon.

Thranduil knelt down, placing Orla once again on the ground, his face suddenly filled with worry. "Are they?" he gasped. "Are you sure?"

By now even Orla knew that she was being gently teased, and ran giggling back to her parents.

Bridie had tensed a bit when Orla first accosted the elf-king, but almost sagged with relief when he played along with her. Lorna gave both Bridie and Jack a very pointed look, as though to say, _See? Told you so_. It wasn't that Bridie had thought he'd _intentionally_ hurt her little girl, but they were so tall, and their hands so large... _not human_ , she reminded herself. Strange, it was - they looked so human, and yet even without the sight of their ears, it would be hard to mistake them for humans. Lorna had, but Lorna was stubborn as a rock - any who'd grown up in Lasg'len probably wouldn't have been fooled if they'd got a good look. They were both so intimidating, especially their king, but it was possibly because, as Orla said, they were both so damned tall.

 _They've been in there hundreds of years_ , Ian had pointed out, _and not caused us any ill. They're not likely to start now._

Bridie certainly hoped not, because now, naturally, Thranduil was being accosted by children, until Lorna said, "Oh, give over, you lot - he's an elf, not a climbing frame." Mick attempted, rather fruitlessly, to corrall them, so Bridie took pity on him and tried to help.

The elf beside him, Thanadir - Lorna had mentioned he didn't speak much English, but that he liked figuring out how human things worked. Bridie assumed elves had stringed instruments just like humans did, but she played an electric violin, and she had a feeling _that_ ought to interest him. She'd show him, before it was time for the dancing to get going - everyone would need a few more drinks before they'd be willing to brave what passed for the dance floor.

Thanadir was distracted from the amusement of watching his King navigate the onrush of curious children, knowing full well how much Thranduil had adored his son Legolas. A part of him wondered very much if his King and Earlene would bear a child, not that he would ever presume to ask such a thing. He had greatly enjoyed Legolas, and arguably had raised him as much or more than his parents had. He would cherish another young one….but his thoughts were interrupted by the realization that one of the women wanted his attention.

"Hello...Bridie" he said, as pleasantly as he could manage. "How are you?"

She returned the smile. "Well enough to show you something you'd like to see, she said. C'mon."

Working out that she wished to be followed, Thanadir walked after her, wondering what on earth...only to see her sit down and open a strange looking black case. And out of it she removed something that looked like it might be a musical instrument, but of a kind he had never before seen. "What is that?" he asked, intrigued, sitting down so as to see it better.

"It's a violin," she said carefully, opening the case, "that uses electricity, just like the lights." She'd work out as she went, just how much English he spoke. "It plugs in just like this," she said, shoving the plug into the socket and switching it on. This one was made of clear resin, with a neon light tracing the edges inside of the instrument. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "It's strong. You won't break it."

"Show me what to do?" Thanadir said to Bridie, who in turn picked up the instrument (with the amplifier blessedly dialed down to an absolute minimal volume) and bow and demonstrated first the sound of the open strings, followed by a simple scale, and lastly by the effect to be had from the pizzicato, the plucking of the strings with the fingers. Thanadir's level of facial enthusiasm rocketed, and Bridie did not need to ask if he wanted to try, as she handed the instrument back to him. He drew the bow once across the open strings, and then for perhaps a half minute, worked out the sounds produced when he placed his fingers onto the strings. Concentrating, he paused, and the beginnings of a haunting melody emerged from the violin. Bridie's mouth opened in amazement; the first time ever she'd picked up a violin her da told her it sounded like two cats in heat. The song, whatever it was, called to mind being outside; mountains, and rivers, and wanting to go there. He did not play for long, before handing it back to her with a look of gratitude on his face. "Thank you, Bridie," he said softly.

Lorna, out of the corner of her eye, saw Bridie and Thanadir, and smiled. Yes, he'd get a kick out of that - and since the violin was already out, they wouldn't have to go far for the music. Somebody was going to have get out onto the dance floor first, to show Earlene and the elves (seriously, it was a band name begging to be used) how Irish dancing went first. Chloe and Jamie, maybe - with Bridie on the violin and Maire at the bodhran, the village's two best dancers were out for the count. She herself couldn't dance worth a damn, but it wouldn't have mattered if she could, since she was on guitar. The last thing they needed was poor Mick, with his two left feet, trying to set an example.

She shifted her way over to Earlene. "Can you dance in that dress?" Christ, it was so beautiful Lorna was afraid to stand too close, in case she dropped pretzel cheese on it or something.

Earlene laughed, already feeling better for being close to the bottom of her first pint. "Yes, I can dance in it. Thanadir doesn't make anything that fits badly, I'm not sure he's capable."

"Irish dancing's a bit...spirited," Lorna warned. "Though you're probably right - I don't think he half-arses anything." He certainly hadn't with the roses, that was for damn sure. "I should've warned you about this," she added, kicking herself. Elves were graceful bastards, but she doubted this would be the kind of dancing they were used to, and Earlene might or might not be, either.

Seeing her friend's worried expression, she hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry, Lorna. While I might not know how to do everything, I've been dragged to my fair share of St. Paddy's Day post-parade pub parties. It's a huge deal, in Manhattan, and to not turn out if you've even a drop of Irish blood is looked upon as just short of criminal."

Lorna couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'll tell Bridie we'll go easy on you, first," she said. "You'll learn the rest'v everything now, before everything's over. I think everyone's just about drunk enough by now."

"Then clearly, I need to catch up a little," Earlene said, polishing off the last of her pint. Seeing that the ellyn still had a ways to go on their mugs, she smiled at Thranduil, who caught up to her as she headed for the bar, grinning.

"Are you nervous about dancing, Earlene?" he asked, teasing her. Frankly, he was looking forward immensely to what dancing would do to her bosom, in that dress, though he was smart enough not to say that aloud.

"No, husband," she answered back saucily. "But as this is an Irish party, I do intend for my celebrating to be done while not entirely sober. Please John, another pint of Guinness, if you would?" She handed over her empty glass, figuring she could at least do her part to minimize the stupendous amount of washing that would no doubt commence afterward. When her glass was filled, she showed Thranduil the human custom of clinking glasses, while taking him by the hand to find Thanadir. John, who appeared to be warming up to the idea of elves in his pub, smiled at her antics as he continued to polish glassware.

Lorna, drunk enough herself to be feeling rather mischievous (and lacking in judgment), broke out the jar she'd brought with her from Baile. It was the most potent poitín she and Big Jamie had ever made - she wasn't going to let it near any of the humans, but it might go some little way to getting the elves at least slightly closer to tipsy. It wasn't likely to send _them_ blind, though she'd best warn them anyway.

"You're _not_ ," Mick said, eying the jar like it was a live snake.

"Of course I am." She intended just a little of it herself - her liver had dealt with worse. "After the dancing, though, in case it actually has some effect on them." She knocked back a shot of it herself, but only a shot; she could be a terribly mean drunk if she took it too far. This called for being a happy drunk. "Watch that for me, will you? I've got to get my guitar." She'd brought the electric on the advice of Bridie, given Bridie's violin. No doubt Thanadir would find that interesting, too, whenever she got a chance to show it to him.

Earlene and Thranduil arrived near to Thanadir just in time to see him try the violin. Once he played, Earlene's ears locked in. _What is that?_ she asked Thranduil silently. _That is so beautiful….I want to order him a violin now._

 _I do not know that it is anything in particular, meluieg. Thanadir can play our musical instruments, some of which are not dissimilar to this. And of course he can sing. As I said before, he is exceptional._

Tugging at his hand, Earlene managed to maneuver him onto a barstool. "How did you meet him?"

Thranduil looked at her searchingly, not sure this was the time or the place. In the end, he elected to keep his answer short. His wife was not stupid; she could fill in the empty spaces. _He was in the service of my father, Oropher. And as such, he was one of very few who...knew. He is older than I am, by some hundreds of years. When my father was slain, he was the first to come and kneel before me, swearing himself to my service for as long as I ruled and lived._

Earlene's face fell, though she tried to hide it. She had not wished to dredge up the memory of...that, and certainly not here. As this was not the circumstance for further discussion, she covered his hand with hers, gently squeezing to show her acknowledgement.

Everyone was tipsy enough that Lorna felt safe giving Bridie a nod. She flagged down Maire in turn, and they grabbed their instruments from the back room.

Chloe and Jamie had agreed to open the dancing, and give Earlene and Thranduil an example to follow before the lines got going.

"All right, you lot!" Bridie cried, taking a seat atop one of the tables (shoving several empty, sticky glasses out of the way first). "It's dancing time."

"I think the Americans say 'put up or shut up'," Lorna added, plugging in her guitar. "And if anyone trips over this cord, I'll choke you with it."

"She means it," Mick called, trying (and failing) to smother a belch.

Chloe and Jamie, faces rosy and eyes shining with alcohol, took their places on the empty, slightly crumb-strewn floor. Lorna and Bridie glanced at one another, and with a grin Lorna's fingers flew over the guitar strings, setting the rhythm before Bridie's violin soared, and Maire's bodhran took up the beat. Jamie, with a grin that could only be called rakish, dragged Chloe into a reel with feet that practically flew.

Taking pity on the ellyn, Earlene dragged both of them off into a slightly quieter corner, to teach them the reel step. "Okay, it's like this. Or at least, this is how I was taught." She hiked up her skirts well past her knees, not noticing Thanadir's raised eyebrows. "Watch my feet," she indicated with her finger. "Point, put it in back, point, put it in back, one foot after the other. Then knee up two three four five six seven" she said, alternating the tiny steps. "Point, put it in back, point, put it in back, knee, step in and point in back." Before she could even ask if they needed it demonstrated a second time, they'd already imitated her flawlessly, so she ushered them back up to the line of dancers to try. And she realized for the first time, that when Lorna had asked her if she could dance, she hadn't been thinking of the reel. She had gone to far too many American parties where a two step (if that) was all that was required to navigate the evening. Though, she could actually waltz and a few other things besides, but rarely had the chance.

 _No matter_ , she reasoned, _if I have to hike the skirts up so what, that's what the leggings are for._ Surely the elves would not fault her for long, once they saw this step; it would be easy enough to catch her foot in the skirts otherwise. In fact, she stopped to check the inner seam of the skirt, just to make certain that there were no irregular spots that might accidentally snag easier. It took Earlene a few moments, but she quickly recalled the step and soon her face was shining with happiness, across from Thranduil who was keeping up easily. And unbeknownst to her, the smile on her husband's face was at least in part because her breasts were behaving as he hoped they'd might. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that someone had claimed Thanadir (who was that?) but she could not spare the head space to figure it out.

The music rose and fell and soared again, Bridie's violin giving way to Lorna's guitar, then back, while the bodhran thundered like a heartbeat, louder than the feet of the dancers. Nobody was reserved now, that was for damn sure; get the Irish good and drunk and they'd take joy in anything - even being hanged, as Gran once said. There was more than a little applause at just how well these elves and their resident American were handling such a dance - hell, they were doing better than half the rest of the people.

The joy of an electric guitar was that it could scream in ways an acoustic couldn't, and Lorna let it fly in time with the violin, skating her thumbnail up and down the string. She'd played all sorts in her life, but Irish music was literally in her blood, and Bridie and Maire were as good a set of partners as she could have asked for. They didn't need to think, to pass the rhythm and shift it into something almost alive, and let the dancers keep up as they could.

Earlene lasted for awhile, longer than she'd thought she would, before needing a break. Not being completely dim, she went to the bar to ask John for water with which to match her intake of Guinness. Even though she knew Thranduil could help her, she had no intention of adding dehydration and a splitting headache to this party. But as her husband had no such physical limitations, she enjoyed greatly watching him and the others keep on. All she knew was, she wasn't budging off this barstool until the whole glass of water was gone. And it also gave her a chance to watch Lorna...had she mentioned being able to play guitar? Earlene felt a little jealous. Though there had been some time in choruses in high school and undergraduate college, her life had never really allowed for a musical instrument, and she'd always felt more than a little envy of those who could play something well. Though the music wasn't exactly what she would choose for "around the house," much preferring her stuffier classical choices, there was no getting around the enjoyment of watching live music. Within reason. She drew the line at both hip-hop and punk because….because as gran would say, it was _wile craic._

After she had recovered herself enough, she took a small plate, helping herself to what was on the tables, but kept it within reason. Meats and some fruit, a few odd pretzels, and what looked for all the world like some homemade shepherd's pies, that she could not resist taking a scoop of. Soon enough, she was back on the dance floor, for as long as she could manage.

The children, being the only humans not ossified to some level or another, flitted around the dance floor, a few coming up to grin shyly at Earlene before darting off again. They knew better than to get underfoot of the adults, because they might literally get stepped on, so they stole food from every available table and watched.

Mick, much to Lorna's surprise, actually managed a respectable reel - last time she'd seen him attempt to dance had been eight or so years ago, and to call the result abysmal was being polite. He kept well away from the elves, no doubt not wanting to accidentally crash into either, but even when he broke the reel and gave over to more ordinary dancing, he kept the beat and whirled Chloe around the edge of the dance floor. Aw. Lorna's little Mick was all grown up.

The steel strings bit into her fingers - it had been too long since she'd played anything strenuous, and she'd pay for it later, but it was too much fun now. Watching Earlene and the elves take the floor was an actual pleasure, because they took to it with a speed she would have had a hard time believing if she'd had no previous exposure to them. That Earlene could dance at all in that dress, let alone dance so well, took actual skill.

Eventually, the human dancers began to flag, one by one - flag, or crash into something and bow out. Sooner or later it'd be time for the toast, and the cake-cutting, if Earlene wanted it. It wasn't Irish custom, but it was an American one, so they'd figured they ought to have it on hand.

Earlene finally gave it up, feeling like her feet might fall off her ankles, and left the dance floor. It was only then that she noticed the cake, which was just lovely. What impressed her so much was that it was so finely done, while bearing all the marks of not having been made by a professional baker. The colored frosting flowers and icing had been applied by someone who was clearly a very talented home baker, and it was obvious to her that a great deal of effort had gone into its creation. For the life of her, Earlene could not recall who Lorna said had made this...she hoped it was chocolate. A hand on her shoulder and a rumble of humor broke her reverie.

 _Sweets again, meluieg?_

Earlene began to stifle a groan when he leaned down to kiss her head.

 _I am teasing you, Earlene. This is a special celebration. Eat all the cake you wish. I am enjoying this occasion, very much. More than I expected I would, if I am to be honest._

She did not answer, except to smile and take his hand, certain that somewhere nearby her pint glass was waiting for her...or was it? As she looked around at a sea of largely empty glasses, she realized she had no idea which one might be hers. Divining her thought, Thranduil shooed her in the direction of the food. _You need to eat more, Earlene. I will bring your drinks._

Nodding, she did not need further encouragement, as all the dancing had worked up a ravenous appetite. Filling a plate, she plunked down at a barstool, at least having been able to find Thranduil and Thanadir's mugs by their sheer size.

"All right, you lot!" John called. "Enough already. We've a cake to cut, before everyone passes out all over my floor."

The musicians obediently put away their instruments, while the rest moved (or stumbled) over to the main table, though at least no one knocked anything over. John, no dummy, started filling mugs - they'd be having the toast afterward, and then everyone could do whatever they bloody pleased, so long as it didn't involve sicking up on his floor.

Suddenly it dawned on Earlene, she had never explained this to Thranduil. _The couple both hold the knife and slice the first piece out of the cake, together. Usually from the bottom tier. Then we put it on a single plate, and then each of us feeds the other a bite of cake. With our fingers. And before you ask me why, I do not remember the reason, but that's the tradition._

Taking her husband's arm, they both walked toward the cake, as Earlene eyed Lorna to see her nod of approval.

 _You do it, meluieg, I will keep my hand on yours._

Not for the last time, Earlene decided that she loved telepathy. As the knife sliced into the lovely creation, her inner smile widened to realize that at least _something_ inside of this was chocolate. One never knew, when the frosting was white. She carefully lifted the slice out as Thranduil held the plate for her, and then because she was fastidious, she quickly used the knife to section two small pieces off of the main slice. Figuring it was up to her to guide the way, she lifted the small bite to his lips, enjoying this moment more than she ever thought she might. While she didn't usually go in for...ceremony, it was so nice, to have this occasion.

He was able to neatly manage taking his bite, and then did the same for her. The expression on his face was tender in a way she did not often see; _perhaps he is enjoying this just as much as I am?_ When she'd had a moment to swallow her bite, he leaned down to kiss her full on the mouth, causing the entire room to erupt in cheers and applause. And he held the kiss for a very long time, as her cheeks reddened and the enthusiasm reached a crescendo. When he finally released her, she breathlessly wondered at _where that had come from?_

 _Meluieg,_ he grinned down at her, eyes full of mischief, _I can hear the thoughts of every person in this room. I believe it was….expected._

 _Oh. I'd forgotten, about that…_

He guided her away from the cake, her expression still glazed and her cheeks still burning, so that Bridie could take over management of the cake cutting. And fortunately, he even thought to bring the plate of cake with them.

Lorna, being rather more sober than many of the dancers, tagged Maire, and the pair of them starting passing out fresh mugs of beer - _her_ beer, the special sort that nobody taking any prescription drugs was allowed. Bridie had cleared that with John beforehand, since she knew who was on what. They got ordinary brew, but John's was plenty good in itself.

It only now occurred to her that nobody had worked out just _who_ was making the toast. Ian was the oldest codger in town, but she wasn't sure how long he'd go on if he was let. It was John's bar; let him do it.

"Are you mad?" he asked, when she informed him of his job. "What'll _I_ say?"

"What would any'v us say?" she shot back. "Just...just wish them a happy life together, and that you're glad they're neighbors."

"You do it," he ordered.

Lorna glowered at him. "Not my village, you gobshite. If you don't, I'll tap Ian, and then we'll be here all night."

That was a horrifying enough prospect that it seemed to bolster John. "Fine. But you owe me."

"Why the fuck'd _I_ owe you?" she asked, mystified. "I don't live here. Take it out on Mick." She hoped like hell he wouldn't actually do that, or she'd have a lot to answer for. "Now _go_."

With no small amount of misgiving, John stepped up onto a chair, tapping his mug with a spoon. "I'm no great hand at speeches," he said. "I don't think you'll find too many in this village who _are,_ but we'd all wish you all the best. Knowing you've been next door as long as we've imagined...it's grand to know you're real. And Earlene, you're the first outsider in this town we've actually wanted here since Mick turned up." He didn't look at Lorna, but she glared at him anyway. "We're slow to change, but change we can, and...well, hell. It's good to have you here." He fidgeted, and raised his mug. "Here's to you all, and the future." Somehow, he managed to down its entire contents in two swallows.

"Still better than I'd do," Lorna muttered, raising her mug.

Assuming it made sense to raise her glass to her own toast, though not being a hundred percent certain, Earlene and the elves imitated the gestures of everyone else in the room, and drank deeply. It was serendipitous that she had a fresh glass on hand, in her eyes. As she watched with amusement, the children and any others with a sweet tooth lined up for cake, while everyone else seemed to resume eating and drinking in earnest, though where the extra alcohol was going, she had no idea. It was clear that the room was...well into their cups, as might have been said in times gone by. Finishing up her plate of food, she was as happy as she could recall being; perfectly stuffed, just the right amount of beer in her that she was pleasantly buzzed, and so far the whole thing had been wonderful. Realizing, on some level of responsibility, that she needed to make an effort to reach out to the ones she did not already know, she decided to "work the room" and suggested to Thranduil that he might want to take Thanadir (or not) and make a similar effort. Standing up, and bringing her Guinness with her, she decided to start with Jack, who was hovering near Bridie as she continued to wrangle slices of cake onto paper plates.

"You run the chemist's, Lorna said?" she asked pleasantly. "I'll make an effort to stop in next time I head in for shopping, I'm running out of a few things. How long have you both had the shop?"

The beginnings of his answer were interrupted by a sharp outburst of anger from Earlene. Because there was a hand groping her breast, and she knew full well that her husband was across the room, and that even if he was not, he would never do something so crass as this. Wheeling around with her hand balled into a fist, her beer sloshing onto the floor (somehow narrowly missing the front of Jack's shirt), someone was about to get theirs and she didn't give a flying fuck if she broke her hand doing it.

Lorna had realized there would be trouble as soon as Sean came staggering in. Every village had that one person, man or woman, that nobody actually _liked_ , but put up with because really, what else could you do? She'd warned him away from this, but couldn't say she was surprised he'd turned up anyway, like a bad smell.

She was halfway across the room when he made a grab for Earlene, and what happened next...wasn't exactly clear to her. She'd made it to Earlene somehow, but she couldn't quite say how, and then her boot was planted on his knee and her forehead was crashing into his nose, and the rage, the deep, magma-hot wrath that had always simmered at the back of Lorna's being just...took over. It had happened before, but rarely; it was her legacy from the father she'd disowned long before he died. Hitting people, she'd always done that, though she'd given over more or less since she'd moved to Baile - drunks at the pub notwithstanding.

But before - she'd seen arseholes like this before, greedy little fuckers who thought the world existed for their grubby, sticky fingers to do as they wished with, and there was red - his blood, hers, she didn't know, and it didn't matter. There was a scream and it wasn't her, and the pair of them crashed to the floor in an inglorious heap that took down several stools and God knew how many dishes. There was red, and there was heat, and there, _there_ was the euphoria that came only with one thing, with hurting someone.

Without her conscious will, she snatched up a bit of shattered plate, forcing it between his lips. She'd given half a Glasgow Smile once - if ever anyone deserved one-

It had all happened in a blur, god love her ferocious friend, but Earlene wasn't about to let Lorna have all the fun; it was, after all, her anatomy that had just been insulted, and her temper was running red hot. With strength that could only come from the amount of anger she felt, Earlene stepped over Lorna and hooked her arm around her waist, heaving upward with her legs and basically airlifting her up and to the side, hoping she stayed on her feet. And with a mighty shove of her right leg, she parted the man's legs before swinging her foot around in a loop so that her kick connected with that deliciously squishy place right between his thighs while yelling " _WHO D'YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU BASTARD?_ " at the top of her lungs. A second scream came from the man on the floor, as he twisted away from her in agony, holding his crotch. Earlene actually wasn't done yet, and was working out how to line herself up for one more kick to his balls, but found herself restrained. She struggled to free herself, so badly did she want to pay out more, but she was being pulled further away. And the second part of the reaction was coming; tears of rage were coming into her eyes as the noise and murmuring in the room increased. She heard but did not see Thranduil say "SILENCE!" in his most commanding voice. The room went dead quiet; anyone could have heard a pin drop.

The Elvenking was deeply unhappy at this...incident, as he weighed what to do. As he turned the man onto his side to examine him, half the room gasped and some turned away in revulsion. A pool of blood was on the floor under where his head had just lain, and the man's scalp was just...a wreckage. A triangular piece of it hung, partly detached, with his skull glistening underneath. That he was largely bald with his remaining hair close cut, made it that much more obvious. Thranduil squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. The man was a villager, a ruffian, and he was seriously injured, as well. And drunk. While Thranduil wanted to simply leave him there in his own mess to suffer the consequences, he had to consider his responsibilities and his goals. If the man died, or took lasting harm, or took any harm at all, it would be forever linked back to him. It wouldn't matter that this wretch had deserved it, and that neither he nor Thanadir had been involved; what would stick in everyone's minds was that this was the result of the first time the elves came to town. With a deep loathing, he knew what he must do, though he did not wish to. In front of all of them, he took the man into his arms and began to heal him. As the light of his blessing formed a soft halo around them, no one breathed a word. One or two of the crossed themselves, and none of them, save perhaps Lorna who was by now elsewhere, could believe what they were seeing. When he was done, Thranduil unceremoniously dumped the now perfectly healthy and sober man onto the floor, rose, and stormed out the pub door.

Thanadir, having seen that there was a back room to this place, pulled Earlene into it. He decided that it would be wiser to completely remove her from the source of her anger. Once she understood who was restraining her, she instantly stopped resisting, but now her emotions were a complete mess. With something between a sob and a wail, her arms wrapped around Thanadir's waist as he held her protectively, soothing her as best he could while she cried in anger and frustration. By some miracle, there were clean napkins and what appeared to be an untouched glass of water. Dunking one into the glass, Thanadir dabbed carefully at her eyes and face. At this exact moment, she was only going to feel safe with one of the elves nearby, while at the same time feeling disgusted with herself. "I am sorry, Thanadir," she whispered. "I am not usually like this. I don't understand why I am so upset." _You're from New York, Earlene. So some asshole grabbed your tit, why are you reacting like this?_ She had no clear answers for herself, except that _maybe it is because this party was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me when they didn't have to, and that walking turd had to go and ruin it._ She could only sort out that she was trying her hardest not to burst into a fresh round of tears at what a shambles this had all just become. Earlene took over the napkin from Thanadir, appreciating his efforts but finding that his incessant dabbing was becoming annoying. He began to move toward the door only to hear her unsteady voice begging, "Please, do not leave me alone."

Patiently Thanadir remained, sitting on the bench with his arm around her shoulders, fully prepared to give anyone else who entered the room their marching orders. As he waited, he pondered the range of experiences of which he'd partaken tonight, and concluded that for the most part, he liked the humans. Though it had also confirmed for him that should they be out in this world, in the future, he would ever have to be on his guard to protect his King and queen. Now, as in days long gone by, they could not afford to abandon their vigilance. It was not right, that anyone under his watch should have suffered the indignity that Earlene just had; he felt a strong measure of responsibility for not realizing that an occurrence like this might be possible. And, he knew better. Like it or not, the world of men had ever been thus; he had allowed time and optimism to cloud his judgement. It was a mistake he did not intend to make twice. He sighed, and from time to time rubbed small circles on Earlene's back, hoping that it gave her some comfort.

For her part, she rested her head against Thanadir, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to summon the spirit of pugnacity that had always seen her through such occasions in the past, while at the same time envying her friend. _Lorna wouldn't be in here crying_ , she thought to herself. _So why are you? Why can't you be more like her?_

The rest of the pub was left with the problem of what exactly to do with the unwelcome Sean. He'd caused enough drama as it was, so Bridie made an executive decision: they duct-taped him to a chair and stuck him out on the back porch. The spring nights were chilly, but he wouldn't freeze. For one last good measure, however, Bridie kicked him in the crotch. Again.

Mick wasn't tremendously surprised that Lorna would be at the heart of a pub fight. He didn't pay it much mind - not until he heard Earlene yell, and looked up to see Lorna beside her, bloody-faced, her expression terrifyingly vacant. Mick had only seen her like that a few times, back during their gang days - when she got like that, he'd always been terrified that sooner or later she'd kill someone.

She had something in her hand now - glass, a shard of plate or something, dripping red, and Mick felt his heart drop. Oh Christ, had she - no. No, there would've been more screaming.

But her face, her expression...in this state, she wasn't safe for _anyone_ to be around. Mick edged toward her, trying desperately to avoid the notice of the elves - not easy, given how closely she stood to Earlene. Jesus, what had she done to Sean's _face_ …

"Lorna," he whispered. Her head whipped round to face him, and oh, that look in her eyes...Shane had always said she looked like a snake, with her eyes so cold. "Lorna, c'mon, give me that."

She said nothing - only stared at him, that awful blankness still hovering over her expression. The glass in her hand dripped, and he realized some of the blood was hers.

"C'mon, Lorna. Lorna. _Lorna_." Approaching her like this was like dealing with a rabid animal. "It's Mick, Lorna. Give that over now. Come on, give it here." He held out his hand, praying she wouldn't stab him - but she knew him. He was Mick. They'd stolen a city bus and crashed it over the edge of a bridge as teenagers. He knew what she was like, what she could _be_ like - and what she didn't want to be.

To his everlasting relief, hand it over she did, and he saw the exact moment she returned to being _Lorna_. She wiped at her face, staring at her hand, and turned.

Lorna couldn't say she was sorry she'd lamped Sean, or even that she'd fucked up his face, but all the blood, and his head...oh Jesus.

She didn't actually make a conscious decision to run. Somehow, she found herself outside, the spring evening just turning chilly. With an equal lack of awareness, she broke into Mick's van and stole both cigarettes and an unopened bottle of beer. Beer wasn't enough - she didn't know that anything _would_ be - Christ, had she killed that bastard? Had she, had she, _had she?_

The remnants of her fury jagged along her nerves, and her trembling hands could barely light her cigarette. She hadn't smoked in years, but did she ever need one now. She needed to smoke, and to move, and...and….

The blood on her forehead was growing chilly and tacky, but her nose was bleeding freely, and she wiped it on her sleeve. It was over, but the rage, that wonderful, euphoric wrath refused to die entirely. It warred with her cold horror, the dissonance nearly enough to make her sick.

Her cigarette was bloody, though she didn't know if it came from her nose or her fingers. She wasn't sure it mattered. If she really had killed that fucker, it was back to prison for her. And just now, in that moment, she wasn't sure she cared. Whatever might happen to her couldn't be worse than what she was. What she still was, even after all these years. Jesus, what was _wrong_ with her? Why was she like this? She was thirty-nine fucking years old, and still, _still_ she did...this.

In the blink of an eye, Lorna found her cigarette suddenly missing, and found the rest of her firmly held by Thranduil.

 _You are coming with me_ , she heard in her head.

As Thranduil saw it, this was the only person who deserved to be healed from what had happened, but there had been no other option. He whisked her away faster than a human eye could follow, to the alley alongside the pub, which was shrouded in darkness. She was held firmly in his arms. He would not need to glow with light, to repair the minimal damage of her bleeding. He knew that her thoughts and emotions were nearly beyond reach, just now, which was why this was not going to be a topic for discussion. Laying his hand on her, he swiftly cared for her injuries, but was not so certain about what to do for the rest of her. Though, he had an idea. He'd connected with her once, when she was not this angry, and he hoped that it was enough to be of some value here.

 _Lorna, listen to me. The man is regrettably perfectly well, because I was left with no choice but to heal him. Or at least,_ he said with no small amount of amusement creeping into his mental voice, _he was perfectly well a few moments ago, before Bridie offered further insult to his male parts. What the other villagers will do to him, I cannot say, but neither you nor I will be held accountable for that. You need not fear any consequences, for there are none. But I cannot in good conscience release you until I see that you are in control of your anger. I understand it, better than you know, which is why you will go nowhere until I am assured you have mastered yourself._

Unfortunately, in that moment Lorna was entirely incapable of listening to him. She Did Not Do Well with being restrained - too many fights that could have gone disastrously wrong if she hadn't got free. She was a jumpy bastard; even her family knew better than to grab or startle her. This was a hold she put her nieces and nephews into, when they'd got stroppy with her, but she was little and he wasn't, and without plan or forethought she wrenched her left shoulder out of its socket, twisting like a cat while she tried to pivot around the joint. It had worked for her in the past, though not in this particular hold, and not with an opponent this bloody strong. She wasn't used to running up against someone she couldn't beat, or couldn't escape, and Christ she was _trapped,_ she had to get free, had to had to _had to_ , while she could still breathe.

Though he did not hurt her in any way, his grip on her was like iron. _Lorna,_ he sent to her in as gentle a tone as he could, _the wounds to your spirit have festered because of fighting and running, fighting and running. You cannot harm me, and you cannot escape me, and I know very well what a strain this alone places on your mind. At this moment, you are in my care, and the first thing to which you will need to reconcile yourself is that you have no choice in this matter. You are my friend, and I will not stand aside and witness your self-destruction when it is in my power to stop it. We will remain here, exactly as we are, however long is required, until you can accept this much._

Lorna had absolutely no idea what to do with...any of this. How the hell could he want to be anywhere _near_ her right now? "I would've killed him," she whispered, her voice unsteady, half muffled by his shoulder. Her nose wasn't bleeding anymore, but she was still probably getting it all over his tunic. "You saw - you saw what I did to his face. If Earlene hadn't grabbed me, I'd've killed him right there." Jesus, why _was_ he near her? How could he touch her? Nobody touched her, nobody and nothing, it was just _wrong_ … Her every instinct still told her to run, to get the hell away and tear off into the night, but she knew, even through her panic, her horror, her lingering rage, that for once in her life, she was well and truly stuck. "That's what I do," she said, pointing at the pub before scouring her right hand down her face. "That - that shite, it's what I do, it's what I've _always_ done, and apparently all I ever will do, and _Christ_ , d'you know what it's like when you just want to make someone _hurt_?" She had a suspicion that he might, to some degree. _Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do, as long as the other person hurts. As long as you win, and they lose. The sheer euphoria that came when you made someone bleed, or cry...it was headier than any drug she'd ever taken, anything else she'd ever tried._..What the hell kind of mentality was that?

She couldn't look at him, or at anything. She just pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that someone actually dared have physical contact with her. No smart person touched her, let alone restrained her, but she could tell already she wasn't getting loose under her own power. She'd be far angrier about that if she wasn't so mired in shock, in complete loathing of herself and the entire universe. If he knew her, if he took a really good look at the depths of her mind and history - if he saw not just the things she'd done, but things she'd wanted to do, planned - he'd never let her near him or Earlene or Thanadir again.

She wished she could cry. Her eyes burned, but she'd only managed actual tears three times in her entire life - some internal dam always held them back, until they curdled within her mind and poisoned her. _It's what I am. I'll never be anything better._

Thranduil laughed, in his deep baritone voice. _Lorna, I know you are not used to having the friendship of an elf, but have you forgotten, this is me? You may tell yourself what you wish to, in your anger and your disappointment with your choices, but surely you do not expect me to believe that? With every new set of thoughts, you show me more. You expect me to think worse of you as a result of what I see, and yet I do not. If you wish, I will look at the depths of you; you only need give me your consent. But I tell you now, I do not expect to see anything at which I could not already guess._

 _This is the problem, with shutting yourself away. You have come to accept that certain conclusions you have made about yourself are true, and with no other voice to contradict you, you use this conviction to define your future. If you believe a thing to be true, Lorna, then it assuredly will become so. And in the same way, if you choose to believe something different, those beliefs can come true as well. I know that you did not ever mean to find yourself near a mind-reading elf, and yet here you are. You are correct in only one thing; if I saw that you were a danger to Earlene or Thanadir, I would keep you away from them. The fact that I do not, and continue to welcome you, should tell you something. Since you are not thinking clearly at the moment, I will spell this out for you, as you humans say: Perhaps I see your heart more clearly than you do, and perhaps you should consider that you have friends that are more than willing to help you._

Thranduil decided that he'd said enough, but there was one more thing he could do. She might never forgive him, but he suspected heavily that she would, even if it took her awhile. He laid his hand on the back of her head, freeing her emotions until with a great heaving sob, she burst into tears. He held her as he would a child, slowly swaying back and forth as she cried, until there was nothing left. And while she was thus occupied, she did not take note of the warm sensation in her shoulder, nor the barely perceptible click of the joint returning to normal.

Later, Lorna might be pissed about that. Having her mind manipulated, even benignly...but just now, that was exactly what she needed. The ability to cry was not something most people would value, but sometimes it was the only way to release all the pent-up toxins that could store in a person's mind. _How do I make it stop? she asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. How do I stop wanting to hurt people like that? Even I know it's not right, and I don't want to be like this. I'd thought I was better, until that fucker. You've been in my head, you know how angry I can get...what do I do about it? It's part'v me, but I don't want it. I never have._ Tears were strange things, weren't they? Hot and bitter, salty-tasting, but it felt like some soul-deep poison was draining itself. She couldn't have actually spoken if she'd tried; it felt almost like she couldn't breathe, but not quite. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, like she'd not felt since Gran held her after she'd lost Liam.

Thranduil considered her words. _I can teach you. And if that fails, I can take it from you, but you would be happier to achieve it on your own. Not tonight, but soon, when you have calmed down and all this has settled. All I ask, for now, is that you open yourself to the belief that it is possible to learn this. He paused for several seconds. What I have in mind will require a promise from you, though I do not think you will find it difficult. I will bring you to my Halls, asking only in return your solemn word never to speak of anything about them, aside from that the elves have a home in the woods. There is much there that I believe you will find...uniquely useful, in learning how to manage your rage. And either way, I will help you with this. You have helped me, and if it is your wish to be free of this, then free you shall be._ Realizing that she was as calmed down as much as would occur without more alcohol or further direct intervention on his part, he gently set her down on her feet, but just as quickly took her hand. "Shall we return to the party?" he said, smiling. "I believe I should pry my wife out out of the back room. Perhaps you could get John to pour her another Guinness?" he suggested, as he smoothly navigated her toward the pub door.

Let her in his Halls...Jesus. Not something she'd ever expected. Like, _ever_. _Of course I'd promise_ , she thought. _I already talked to Earlene about a supernatural NDA clause - you've probably heard that term from her, but if not, it's a non-disclosure agreement. Basically, it means I keep what I see to myself._ Thought of being free of this temper, this thing that had defined her life...it almost seemed too good to be true, but for once in her life, she'd go out on a limb. Liam always said she needed to have more faith in people, so she'd try. It had worked with Mairead and Gran; there was no reason nor evidence to suggest it wouldn't work with Earlene and the elves, either. (Seriously, she needed to start a band just so she could use that name. It was too perfect. Did Earlene play an instrument? Finding out was a priority.)

"I could try," she said slowly, "but - there's always a chance they'll all think I'm mental, and boot me out. Most humans, they're not...accepting, like you've been. Mick, he's known me for years - he knows what I'm like. I'll try and bribe Earlene with Guinness if I can, but if that lot want me gone...well, I can't blame them. You know I couldn't hurt you if I tried, but they've got no such assurance." If that did happen, she had Mick, and she had Earlene and the elves - though they might want some privacy, given what Earlene had gone through. Either way, Lorna wouldn't be alone, and that counted for more than most people would expect. She was pretty sure Thranduil would have got it even without telepathy, though.

Thranduil smiled at the excess of Lorna's worries. "You need not fear. No one actually entirely saw what happened, and that the man's head split open was not your direct doing. Though you cut his face, I'm afraid Earlene distracted from the notice of that rather swiftly when she pulled you off of him to kick him in his manhood. If it had not all been so dramatic, it would have been rather funny," he mused. "Go in as though nothing happened except your knocking that man down. Trust me." He held the door open, and gestured for her to enter.

Lorna was an absolute shit liar, but having a good cry had helped her immensely. Knowing that she had Thranduil - and by extension, Earlene and Thanadir - at her back, that helped, too. Mick, he knew her, he'd seen what she was like and knew the right things to do and say, but much as she liked him, he didn't get it. Not really. That Thranduil did, almost scarily well...he'd said his father was a right nightmare, just like hers (though his, being an elf, had probably been exponentially worse). Had he learned to cope like she did, and then learned a way around that coping mechanism? Part of her wouldn't be surprised. And if that turned out to actually be the case, and he'd truly moved past it...maybe she really could, too.

She probably looked like an absolute fright, but a quick trip to the toilet and she could wash her face. Everyone would have seen her head-butt Sean; that was no big deal. She was hardly the first to head-butt someone in a pub fight, and she wouldn't be the last.

Thranduil marched straight to the back room, pausing for a moment with his hand on the door to take a deep breath, wondering on some level if this evening was ever going to end. Though he was happy, on every level, to help Lorna any way he could, he'd not taken into account how much trouble some humans could be, and how quickly. He would definitely be making a mental note of the "Sean" for future reference. Entering the room, he closed the door behind him, only to have Earlene launch into his arms. With a silent word of bottomless thanks to Thanadir, he held her tightly as the storm of her thoughts came at him.

"Meluieg," he whispered. "You did very well, and I am proud of you. The situation out there has been managed. The mess is cleared up, the man who accosted you has been disciplined by the villagers, and Lorna is getting you another drink. Do you think you could come out of here, with me?"

Not answering, she looked up at him. "Do I look like I've been crying?" she asked woefully.

The truth was, yes, she absolutely did, but he could fix that. He gently held his hand over her eyes, banishing the redness and the swelling. "Not anymore," he said, with what he hoped was not too much cheerfulness.

She tried to force a smile onto her face. "Just give me another half minute," she said, as she made herculean efforts to plaster a look onto her face that was different than how she felt inside. _All those years of court were good for something_ , she reasoned. _Buck up_ , she ordered herself. Finally, she took his hand and nodded her willingness to emerge from the room, but not before looking back at Thanadir. "I cannot thank you enough," she whispered. His smile and the nod of his head spoke volumes, as Thranduil opened the door and left it ajar.

Lorna, face washed but eyes still slightly red, bore a mug of Guinness the size of her head. "It's safe," she whispered. "I'm not entirely sure what they did to Sean, but I've been assured by everyone that he's the only one like him in the village. You lot won't have more problems like that." Despite the fact that she wasn't a villager, she'd been elected to bear the booze (and the news) simply because she actually knew the three in more than passing.

Gratefully, Earlene thanked her and took the mug, pausing long enough to take four immense swallows of it. She kept coaching herself, _don't give that pathetic piece of shite the power to ruin this occasion_ , as she plastered a smile on her face and did her level best to resume her conversation with Jack as though a bomb had not gone off in the meantime. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the ellyn were making similar conversation with others, and that the room had, somehow, returned to a form of normalcy. Becoming engrossed in hearing about the chemist's shop, she did not notice her husband slip away, to the back porch.

Sean sat with a mingled look of spite, fear, confusion and pain on his face, helplessly bound to the chair; they'd even taped his mouth. With a raised eyebrow, Thranduil realized he wished to investigate this...duct tape, which seemed like another marvelous invention of the humans. But what he came to say would not exactly require conversation. Bending low, so that he was face to face with the man, who looked extremely alarmed, he said only one thing, very softly. "If I ever hear that you have laid a hand on my wife again, or even that you have come near to her in any manner that causes her to take offense, you will have far more to fear than anything that will come of your current circumstances. Are we understood?"

The man nodded vigorously, beads of sweat pouring down his face. Thranduil stood upright, staring at him long and intently, his look one of extreme displeasure. The man at the very least deserved to squirm for a few extra moments, he reasoned. Craven at heart, Sean was a miserable creature convinced of his right to snatch at what he could not rightfully earn. There was little doubt in the King's mind that he was suitably terrified. To his disgust, a spreading discoloration appeared on the man's trousers; he was urinating himself in fear. Thranduil had seen enough. Turning on his heel, he left.

Returning to the room, he found to his surprise and enjoyment that four women of the village were quite taken with Thanadir, who was doing his level best to answer their questions. Earlene had let slip that he had made her dress, without use of a machine, and now the seneschal was surrounded by what constituted the Lasg'len Ladies' Quilting Club. He was being vigorously courted to pay them a visit on their weekly afternoon meeting (Thursdays, four o'clock, tea provided) because all of them wished to introduce him to the wonders of quilt patterns...which in truth were something of which he had not been aware. Thranduil declined to rescue the seneschal, reasoning that it might actually be quite useful for him to forge new social connections in this manner. Earlene sealed his fate when, suspecting that he rather did want to go, she told him that they could go to town together, allowing her to shop and visit with Lorna at the pub while he attended their group.

The thing that most surprised Earlene is that every one of the women (all of whom were at least in their fifties) managed to not pinch Thanadir on the cheeks, though they so clearly wanted to (based on the number of times hands went halfway to his face, only to be withdrawn). With his doe-eyed and eternally youthful appearance, the awareness of his unexpected sewing skills had just earned him instant celebrity status, in the minds of the village fabric mavens. That Ian's wife Mary was one of these ladies only cemented the serendipity of it, in Earlene's view.

Uncertain how much time had elapsed, Earlene was only aware that she had conversed with what seemed like everyone in the room, at least a little. Her feet and back were aching...she was getting a little too old to be heaving people around, even if they were as tiny as Lorna. Though, she reasoned, maybe she needed a better fitness program. Heading toward forty did not mean that she was done for, not by a long shot…

His eyebrows raised at this set of thoughts, and realized that it was a good time to begin the process of leaving. Wisely, Earlene decided not to try and finish her oversized beer. Though, the circulating rumor that her assailant was even now immobilized on the back porch made her feel very tempted about what might be done with the remainder of her drink; part of her wanted to march back there and splash it in his face. _You're better than that, Earlene. Leave him to be dealt with by others; you cannot afford to reflect poorly on Thranduil._ As much as she'd prefer to act like Lorna a little more often, she perceived the wisdom of her calmer side.

Hearing that was enough for Thranduil. Drawing himself up, he announced to the room in his best charming manner their deep appreciation for this celebration of their marriage and that they had enjoyed themselves immensely. And for good measure, that they looked forward very much to stopping in at the pub to visit, and that they wished everyone good luck. Earlene quickly scuttled over to find Lorna, and thank her specifically, since without her it would never have happened.

"I know you're not the hugs type, but I thought just this once…" Earlene said, with her arms open to her friend and a twinkle in her eye. Lorna, extremely startled, managed a quick "girl's hug" and wished them good night. So many people were actually _touching_ her tonight...it was weird as hell, but for once she didn't count it a bad thing.

With that, she found herself led by the hand outside, and wrapped in the cloak Thanadir had made for her, which was wonderfully heavy and warm. And as she investigated it, extremely clever. There were at least five pockets that she was able to find easily, and she discovered that there was a flap-covered opening on each side, worked into the seam, that would allow her to have her arms outside of the fabric while still having it wrapped around her. She thanked him profusely for this, too, increasingly in awe of his abilities. The experience of wearing custom-designed and tailored clothing was new to her, though she was no stranger to assorted luxuries.

They did not otherwise speak as they returned, and by some previous understanding the ellyn turned away from the village on a different path, to enter the forest. Obviously, they would spend the night in his Halls. It was harder for Earlene to keep up in the slipper-like shoes she had chosen to match her dress, and Thranduil soon carried her in his arms. Her aches melted away under his touch, leaving her better able to enjoy the magical walk through the forest, under the starlight. Thanadir began to sing, in a rich and resonant tenor voice that filled her senses. She did not understand many words, but heard things like "galadh" (tree) and "eryn" (wood) allowed her to realize it was a song about nature. Though she badly wanted to listen to him as long as she could something in his song must have lulled her to sleep, because her last memory of the day was of his music weaving melodies in time to the silent footfalls of the ellyn.

Lorna wasn't the only one who nearly sagged with relief when they managed to halfway salvage the night. The brightest among the village knew just how crucial this day had been, and just how much worse it could have gone.

Bridie and Maire stood in front of Sean, eying him and his pissy trousers. Lorna couldn't hear just what they were discussing, but she wouldn't want to be in his shoes. Or pants. Her own gran had been named Bridie, and this one was so like a young version of her that Lorna wondered if they were related.

She herself leaned against the bar, nursing a shot of poitín, letting the sound of the crowd wash over her. Such fits of rage always left her drained, as though her soul had been hollowed-out, but it wasn't so bad this time. Whatever Thranduil had done in her head, she probably shouldn't be too annoyed by it, given the results. The fact that he could do that...honestly, it was pretty freaky, but she trusted him.

Mick picked his way through the crowd, and she couldn't blame him for the wariness in his expression. His eyes searched her face, no doubt hunting for any lingering sign of the _thing_ her rage woke in her.

"I'm fine," she said. "No, seriously, I'm good. I'd give you a pound for a smoke, though." The one Thranduil had stolen from her hadn't been anything like enough. She still, even now, carried the battered Zippo Liam had given her for their first anniversary; while she didn't smoke anymore, you never knew when one might come in handy.

Mick hesitated, but pulled a crumpled pack out of his pocket and handed her one. As soon as she lit it, Maire appeared by her side with all the suddenness of an elf, and she nearly choked on the damn thing. "Jesus, warn a woman, would you?"

"Can we borrow that?" Maire's freckled face was split into a grin so evil that Lorna had to approve, even without knowing what the plan was.

"As long as I get it back," she said. "Why?"

"Shirtcocking," Maire said, with an innocence that would fool absolutely no one.

Lorna burst out laughing, and Mick passed a hand over his face, shoulders shaking silently. "Mick, you mind when we did that to Big Donal? We were what, fifteen, sixteen?"

"Something like that," he said, while she handed the lighter to Maire. The pair followed the woman back to Sean, who rather looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole. "That was the same night you broke Michael's nose with half a brick."

Maire turned to eye them both. "I don't want to know," she said. "All right, anyone who's not willing to see this gobshite's langer, out you go."

Lorna would have expected the old codgers - especially the ladies - to split at that point, but no. The entire bloody lot of them stayed, minus only a few of the youngest children. Sean himself looked ready to bolt as soon as his legs were free, but Lorna grabbed the carving knife off what was left of the roast, idly twirling it as she watched him. She'd learned how to do that for the hell of it one long summer, and had only sliced her hand open a few times. She had it down to an art form now, and she turned it over, fingers running along the handle, flipping it a few times for good measure. She didn't need telepathy like Thranduil to communicate her threat: _struggle and you'll lose your balls as well as your trousers._

Mick eyed her, and she spared him a brief look, letting him know she wasn't going to haul off and cut the son of a bitch. Sean evidently took her seriously, for he held quite still while Maire and John yanked his pissy trousers off. His pants went next, and the entire lot got tossed into the fireplace, where Jack doused it in kerosine and tossed a few lighted napkins onto it with a flourish.

The stench of burning fabric was never pleasant, but at least she could report to Earlene and the elves (that was going to be a band, goddammit, no matter what she had to do) that he'd been quite effectively humiliated - and would be all the more so once he'd walked home with nothing on below the waist, in a chilly Irish evening. The village wasn't going to stand for that shite again.

(The fact that several of the children danced around chanting "Pants on fire!" only made it better; that Orla suggested they burn off Sean's willy, which in turn made him faint, only made it more so.)


	21. Chapter 21

It was two days before Lorna headed back to the forest, two days in which she turned over what seemed like far too many things in her mind.

She and Mick spent most of the time rebuilding the transmission on Bridie and Jack's van, an activity she found rather soothing. They talked - not about the present, but about their shared history, as she tried to badger her thoughts into something resembling order.

Thanks to whatever Thranduil had done, her shoulder didn't hurt at all - and she'd dislocated it enough times to know it should have hurt like a bastard. It certainly made her physical job easier, though she also tried not to think about how completely unable she was to get out of his hold. The fact that she knew he wouldn't hurt her made her failure no less disturbing to her; never, in her entire life, had she failed to escape someone. Would it be like that with all elves, or was it because he could read her mind? She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that.

On the evening of the second day, she finally got ahold of Niamh, who was a fountain of information, and emailed just about every damn thing they would need to know about establishing identities. Fortunately, no genetic testing would be necessary, but the pair of them still ought to learn something approximating an Irish accent. As Lorna had expected, Niamh asked no questions; only requested that if whatever they were doing went south, her name stayed out of it. Lorna had assured her nobody would ever know.

The next morning, a sheaf of paper tucked into Gran's knitting bag, she headed off to the forest. She hoped like hell Earlene hadn't been totally soured on the village - though she'd probably be happy to know Sean had scarpered as soon as he'd made it home with no trousers nor pants. John was taking bets as to whether or not he'd ever come back.

Lorna slowed when she reached the edge of the forest, for once hesitating. Thranduil had left her with one hell of a lot to think about, and even now she wasn't quite sure what to do with it all. This entire situation was so far beyond her, it wasn't even funny - what in God's name was she doing here? She wouldn't know if she didn't keep going, so she drew a deep breath and stepped into the trees. At least she came bearing good news.

Earlene's cottage really was rather similar to Gran's, though not quite so rustic. Gran's - Lorna's, now - was at least a hundred and fifty years old, and in some ways showed its age. It was little, the pipes had issues, and it only had a woodstove for heating, but it was Lorna's. She'd never had her own place, until Gran had died - she'd moved into the tiny spare room when Gran got too old to live on her own, since a nursing home was utterly out of the question. Even Mairead's house was vetoed, since it apparently had too many people. It was home now, in a way nothing had ever been, and she wondered if that was what Earlene had come to feel.

"Oi," she said, rapping on the door, "I've got presents. Sort'v."

No answer came, yet Lorna's ears picked up the unmistakable sound of the protesting barn door being moved. By walking to the edge of the house, she could clearly see Thanadir, notepad in hand, organizing...something. Some sort of activity, as there were a great many elves, at least a dozen. Her curiosity overcoming her reluctance, she approached, waiting at his side. When he finally looked up from his checklists, as each elf bore away a box or three, his face broke into a smile. She could not help but notice that to a one, they were wearing what she would call...dresses. Some ignored her or did not see her, others looked in curiosity and smiled.

The seneschal spoke. "Hello, Lorna. Today we are moving the vegetables to our Halls. I am here, but Earlene and Thranduil are...there. If you will give me a moment?"

Lorna matched his smile with a grin. "Hi, Thanadir. I can wait, sure." Her eyes traveled over the group, completely intrigued - just how many elves lived in that forest, in those Halls? She hoped they weren't all going to want identities, or Niamh might kill her, but she thought she remembered Earlene saying something about only Thranduil and Thanadir needing them.

For a few moments, had she been looking, she would have seen that Thanadir had a bit of a faraway look, though no one could blame her if the sight of the other elves was too fascinating.

He spoke slowly, relaying the words. "Thranduil says that if you wish to come I am to bring you to the Halls, if you are still willing to uphold the promise he asks of you."

Okay, that...Lorna hadn't been expecting to go there so soon, and the thought was more than a bit daunting, but like hell would she say 'no' to that. "I am," she said, and figured Thranduil would pick that up mentally.

"Very well," smiled Thanadir. These are among the last boxes to be taken, we can leave within...ten minutes?" Not knowing what else she could do except stand there in agreement, Lorna nodded and watched the show. Finally, Thanadir offered his arm to her, and led her into the forest.

"How have you been?" asked Thanadir, attempting to put the List of Polite Conversational Terms he'd studied to use, if possible.

More touching. Man, these people were weird, but she wasn't going to be rude - not when it seemed to be a social custom. "I've been good," she said, enunciating carefully. "Working. Have you had a chance to use the sewing machine?"

"Yes," he said, delight spreading over his features. "I can work much faster, it is very nice. Very clever…" he trailed off. "I would enjoy to make you something, Lorna, but perhaps our clothing is very strange to you. I am trying to learn about what humans wear."

Lorna was genuinely touched. Out of all the people she'd ever known, only Gran had made her clothing - had sewed her a very pretty coat her first winter in Baile, dark green wool with a hood. "I'd love that," she said. "You might find the things I wear boring to make, though. I have one nice coat, but a person can never have too many coats in Ireland. It is cold in the winter, for humans." She had no idea just how well elves dealt with temperature extremes, but she would bet it was better than the average human, and certainly better than the average Lorna-sized human.

"Then if there is time, I would be happy to measure you, if you do not mind." Thanadir had received an education, from his King about mortal females and being measured. He had not known, that he had made Earlene intensely uncomfortable, the first day she came to the Halls. He tried to be very careful, knowing that he might not realize until it was too late, when he was breaching a sensitive human boundary. They had walked on for perhaps fifteen minutes, when Thanadir slowed and bowed his head to Thranduil, who had been waiting at a turn in the pathway for them. "i Aran nîn," he said, handing Lorna over to Thranduil with more formality than she'd yet seen.

"Len hannon, Thanadir," Thranduil replied, smiling in welcome. "Lorna meditha adh 'wen (Lorna will eat with us). "If it will not cause you too much suffering, Lorna, I will offer my arm as well," he teased lightly, testing the waters between them. "How are you?" he asked, knowing that the question could have a dozen shades of meaning, for her.

"I'll pop my shoulder out again, taking your arm," she said, but did anyway. Given that his elbow was about level with her chest, it wasn't necessarily a joke, either. "I'm...I'm good. Surprisingly. I've had a lot to think about. Mick, I didn't tell him why I wanted to, but we talked a lot. About the past, I mean, and what I used to do. Why I did it." Truth be told, she was having a slightly difficult time not being intimidated right now - it was ridiculous, but now that she knew he was the one person in the entire world she couldn't escape...no, he'd never put her in another situation where she'd want to, but old habits died hard. Knowing he was never going to hurt her didn't change the fact that he could, should he ever lose his mind and want to. (Well, if he heard too much of what went on in her head, sooner or later he might want to punch her, but she knew he'd never do it. And he was more likely, it seemed, to want to laugh at the random shite her mind coughed up.) "Did you know your language sounds a lot like Welsh? I mean, I don't understand any'v it, but the sound'v it...either it's based off Welsh, or Welsh is based off it." Given that this was elves they were dealing with, she bet it was the latter.

Thranduil chuckled. "I believe you will enjoy immensely, what I have planned for your first visit to my Halls, Lorna. And sometime, I would like to hear something of this...Welsh. Of which I have not heard. But I thought you might rather want to have the time remaining to understand a little of what you will see." He paused, seeming as though he were weighing his words. "When I first brought Earlene here, I rather badly failed to prepare her, and as a consequence, she spent most of her time in what I believe you would call a state of shock. I first wanted to be assured that you understand...at Earlene's home, and in the village, I am ordinary, desiring to be treated as anyone else. But this is my realm, where I rule as King. And knowing how much the thought of this is disliked in the outer world, I wished to remind you that you will unavoidably see others treating me as a King. I will not ask this of you, in a gesture of friendship. Will that be...satisfactory?" he asked.

Lorna nodded. "I'll admit, I've tried not to think about the fact that you're a king, but we actually had a talk about that at the pub, while we were setting up for the party - we've got our land, and you've got yours, and we're separate societies, so it's not going to be the same here as there." She smiled a little. "Earlene, she tried to give me some warning about what I'd be finding - that it's the most beautiful place she's ever seen. I've probably got no comparison for it, that's for damn sure." She glanced up at the canopy - she'd rarely been in a proper forest before, not since her nieces and nephews quit wanting to go hiking. "Fy enw i yw Lorna," she said, dredging up her abysmal Welsh. "Mae'r goedwig yn hardd." My name is Lorna. This forest is beautiful. "My Welsh is absolute shite, but can you hear it, or am I completely mad?"

"The vowels are long," he acknowledged. "i eneth nîn Thranduil. Taur sen bain," (My name is Thranduil. This forest is beautiful) he echoed. "There are many, many tongues in your world, more than I even wish to know of...sadly those among us who had a great passion for words and languages have long since departed, and while I understand your meaning, I cannot say," he said, wistfully, before turning back to the subject at hand. "Likely, you will find my Halls lovely, though they are but a distant echo of the life that was once within them. I must warn you also for your safety, not to try to come here alone for some time, or you will become lost. The forest is protected by many enchantments. If ever you need me, as long as you are within the borders, I can hear you. Though if for some reason I am sound asleep, it may take some shouting on your part to wake me," he said with humor, coming to a stop. "Well, here we are," he said, enjoying his mild teasing of her. "What do you think?"

Lorna had no desire at all to try to navigate even an ordinary forest by herself - one that was enchanted? Nope. (And seriously, enchanted? Enchanted? She was getting better at accepting the whole 'magic' thing, since it was very obviously real, but there were some words that still sat wrong, and might until she got used to them.) "I'll stay and shout, then," she promised. "I'd rather not get lost and freeze, or what have you. It's easier to do that in Ireland than you'd think - for a human, anyway."

She glanced around - this was not the beauty Earlene had spoken so enthusiastically about, so she arched an eyebrow at Thranduil. "I think you're messing with me," she said. "Earlene's not the sort prone to overstatement."

He smiled good naturedly. "You are clever and perceptive, Lorna. I hope you can forgive me my humor. In thousands of years, no one who was not sworn to my service has seen this. And yes, it is enchanted. What you are seeing right now is an enchantment, that hides the gates of my Halls from mortal eyes. This" he said, with a wave of his hand, "is what we see."

Her eyebrows climbed. No one? Maybe she was right - maybe he really did see something of himself in her, however totally different they were otherwise. He was taking a hell of a gamble, even letting her know this place existed - but then, it wasn't like he couldn't tweak her memory later on. Which, given what she was looking at now, she might not even blame him for. Holy shit….

"I can see why you need to hide them," she said inanely, her eyes traveling upward. How the hell could they have made something that huge, that intricate, without machinery? Just what sort of tools did they use? Each branch of the trees carved into the gates was perfect - perfectly even, perfectly smooth, and the knotwork among them and above them looked vaguely Celtic - had her people learned that from the elves? It wouldn't surprise her in the least. "How...how?" She couldn't see a single blemish or imperfection anywhere. Part of her wanted to go run her hand along one, but she didn't want to make a complete fool of herself. She probably looked like enough of a gawking tourist as it was, but she doubted anyone would blame her. Jesus.

"It pleases me greatly that you enjoy the sight, Lorna. You may touch them if you wish; we must either pass through this entrance or stand outside all day."

She gave him a mock glower, but touch she did, her fingers tracing the lines, which were possibly even more precise than any modern machine could make. She wondered how long it had taken to build them - not that time meant the same thing to an elf as it did to a human. "I wish I had anything close to artistic ability," she said. "I'd paint this, but I can't paint worth a damn. Jesus, it's like this forest is another world."

Thranduil granted her as long as she seemed to wish, to admire the Gates, enjoying greatly experiencing the sight through her perceptions. "When we enter, you will find the light to be dimmer. Give your eyes time to adjust, and ensure that you can see clearly before we walk onward. There are no...handrails," he said. With another wave of his hand, the huge door swung open, noiselessly, and he gestured for her to enter. Knowing that this was Lorna, he elected to stay very close to her just in case of...he did not even know what, but he remained close. The door closed behind them, dousing the last of the daylight streaming inside. "And these," he said, "are my Halls."

It did take her eyes a moment to adjust, and the first thing she noticed was what it smelled like: not musty, as she'd expect from a cavern, but fresh and alive, cool moss and water somewhere - she could hear it, even if she couldn't yet see it. When her eyes grew used to the shift in light level, she stared.

Holy chicken tits, Batman, she thought, and then immediately hoped he didn't know what the word 'tits' meant, and then thought about what tits mean...oh fuck everything. Aloud, without consulting her brain, she lapsed into Irish: "Cac naofa." She didn't have any other words, because it would take someone a hell of a lot more eloquent than she was to properly describe what she was now confronted with. How could something like this, something like these halls/caverns/whatever the hell anyone wanted to call them - how could it seem so alive? True, many of the pillars that scattered the vastness were trees of stone rather than wood, but their carving was every bit as intricate as that on the gates, and she could see moss and even ferns at the base of each. And some of the trees were living, somehow thriving in this place without sunlight - for how could it be coming through the roof of the cave when she could see no actual holes? Was it some kind of magic too, or...oh, hell. It was a good thing Thranduil had stuck close, because she might otherwise have walked clean off the edge of the path. "Tú i do chónaí anseo?" she asked, wide-eyed, her tone almost faint with disbelief. Shaking herself, she repeated in English, "You live here? Your people, all'v you, you live here? Jesus, if I was you I'd never leave. This is...I haven't got words for this."

There hadn't been a surfeit of even normal human beauty in Lorna's life. She'd spent her childhood in a dump of a house that barely justified the name; her adolescence she'd lived in a warehouse with the rest of her gang; prison was...prison...she'd seen some beautiful places with Liam, and Baile was nice, too, but they had...it was a good thing Thranduil could read her mind, because she simply had no way at all of expressing any of this verbally. She would never have imagined something like this could actually exist in the real world.

Thranduil smiled down at the diminutive woman, amazed that anyone could think that many things in so compact a space of time. Offering his arm again, he reasoned that it might not be the worst idea, lest in her distraction she amble off the pathways. "Come," he said simply, as he led her up and to the left. "The area around my throne acts as a sort of hub, if you will; as does this area here at the gates. Many paths branch off from each of these places. But our destination lies on the other side. And then if I can presume on your time, I hoped that you would eat with Earlene, Thanadir and I?"

If she leaned on his arm a little more heavily than she otherwise would have, it was because heights were not her friend. Even in a place this gorgeous, she eyed the edge of the walkway with a certain amount of leeriness. "I've got stuff for you," she managed. "You three. I talked to Niamh, my barrister, about what we'd need to get you and Thanadir identities, and…" Yeah, she had no idea where she was going with that. What she wound up saying instead was, "You lot don't have six forks for every meal, do you?" She was not ashamed to hear a slightly plaintive note in her voice. She'd never seen the point of having a drawer's worth of cutlery at every meal, and she never would.

The King's eyes grew moist with the effort of suppressing his laughter...he could barely remember the last time something had been this amusing. "No, we do not. There are two utensils, give or take ones for serving the food. In fact, I believe we use fewer utensils than I have seen Earlene procure."

That was a distinct relief. "Have Earlene put Downton Abbey on your list'v human stuff to watch," she said. "You'll understand my worry then." She reached out with her free hand and ran her fingers over everything she could touch, trying to memorize the textures.

Like everyone, she sometimes had nightmares she was relieved to wake from. But sometimes, especially when she was confronted with something truly wonderful, she was afraid that everything around her was the dream, and she'd sooner or later wake up back in prison, or somewhere equally nasty. Part of her brain was insisting that anything this lovely had to be a dream, while the rest of her knew no dream could be this real.

Deciding to minimize the largest single feature in the entire cavern, Thranduil indicated his throne but did not stop near it. If Lorna found it strange to see the few elves nearby bowing and curtseying to the King, depending on gender apparently, she made no mention of it. Turning off into a passageway, he led her down through a hopeless warren of carven tunnels to emerge at a rather large room. Hundreds of suits of armor were arranged in a symmetrical fashion by part; rows of greaves, vambraces, helmets, on and on, as polished and bright as though they'd seen use yesterday. And as he moved her further along, arrayed in neat rows, were weapons. Bows, swords, daggers and quivers full of arrows stood at the ready. Looking at Lorna carefully, Thranduil went to one rack and removed one of the shortest blades available, working very hard to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread over his otherwise carefully neutral features. Turning to her, he announced mysteriously, "We are almost there, come a little further."

He stopped at last at a tall wooden door, and pushed it open to reveal a large training room. Straw-stuffed targets, mannequins and….objects she could not possibly name but were clearly for the purpose of practice at arms were scattered in abundance. He left the door open, and handed her the sword, grip first, waiting for a response.

Lorna stared at Thranduil, and at the sword. _Are you shitting me?_ He did not, in fact, appear to be shitting her. She took the sword, hefting it, though she had no idea what the hell it was supposed or not supposed to feel like. While she theoretically knew how to fight with a knife - theoretically, since Shane had taught them all, but she'd never had to actually use hers - swords...nope. She'd once beaten a guy unconscious with a push-broom, but that was hardly the same thing.

"Are you sure this is a wise idea?" she felt obligated to ask. If he didn't, they wouldn't be here, but the sensible part of her, the part labeled 'Mairead', made her ask anyway. "I mean, I'm not prone to tripping or anything, but that doesn't mean I won't accidentally hack my own foot off." She suspected even elven medicine had its limits, and severed limbs were probably past them.

"Hold it like this," he corrected her grip, "as though you were shaking hands with it. And in...we shall not discuss how many years, no one has ever amputated their own limb under my instruction, and you will not be the exception to that rule. "Now, this skill has as much to do with feet as hands." From seemingly nowhere, he held a sword as well, until she realized that a table against the wall held many of them. "Come to the mannequin, and do as I do. If you can manage your Irish reel dance, this should pose no difficulty." Demonstrating the footwork he used his steps to bring his blade to plunge into the mannequin with a satisfying but indescribable sound. "Now you try," he said, backing away.

Lorna watched him carefully, trying to mimic his footwork. Despite the fact that she was much shorter, she actually managed it, but she had absolutely no idea how hard she was meant to stab, so when she did, she lost her grip on the hilt and pitched forward a bit. The sound, though...yeah, that really was satisfying, and if she tried that again, she might be able to do it right.

Wrenching the sword out was something of an experiment, since she didn't want to land on her arse. When she pulled it free, she eyed it. It had to be razor-sharp, and probably millennia older than she was - and she was attacking dummies with it.

What even was her life.

She drew back, lining up, and breathed. The rather hilarious thing was that she didn't even intend to let out some kind of half-baked battle-cry - it just sort of happened, as she slammed the blade into the dummy. This time she didn't stumble, and she paused to inhale the sun-straw-scent of the thing.

"That shouldn't feel as good as it does," she said, turning to Thranduil.

"That was a very good first effort," he said suitably impressed. He wasn't sure with her size that she would be able to manage the blade well...though he was sure that the rage that lurked within her could manage that blade and more. "Now here is something else to try. The longsword very often requires the use of both hands, and the mental flexibility to understand which choices are best, and when. This is a different kind of attack, one that will use a downward stroke. First the footwork (which he demonstrated), and now see how the second hand is used to reinforce the dominant hand, which does not change its grip. And lastly, the stroke itself." Lorna watched as he elegantly elevated his arms upward before he stabbed down deep into what would have been someone's chest. "And to remove the blade, brace your hand thus against the target; this way you will not be able to cut yourself. He gestured for her to try.

Given that she was left-handed, Lorna had to work out how to mirror his movements. While she had plenty of mental flexibility in a street fight, when it came to a sword, she was completely in the dark. She stepped as he did, sweeping the blade up and bringing it down with care and more force than was warranted - this sword was so sharp that it did half the work her muscles should have been doing, slicing down into the dummy like a knife through hot cracklings. Her stab lacked elegance, but made up for it in a strange, quiet brutality. Even holding this weapon did...something. She wasn't sure what - only that it set something stirring in her mind, something she didn't recognize. She could get to like this all too easily. "How old is this?" she asked, looking from the sword to Thranduil. "This...this is bloody addictive, and I've done so little."

"Are you truly certain you wish to know how old it is," he asked, smiling, "if I tell you it is older than your pyramids in Egypt?" His face grew suddenly earnest. "I worry about speaking of age, when your lives pass by so quickly. It would seem like our existence must be as incomprehensible to you as yours is to us….and it has ever been thus. Everything you see here, all the armor and weaponry, is a relic of fighting and defending our home that we have not needed for ages; a bygone era," he said sadly, shaking his head but then suddenly brightening. "But I am glad that you like this." He now peered at her very intently. "Now, I would like to see you pretend that the mannequin is Sean...if you are willing."

Lorna eyed the sword. Egypt? She probably shouldn't be surprised. Still. Jesus. "My gran, she used to say that all'v us are born with an axe over our head, and its name is Mortality...pretty sure she heard that somewhere. Some'v us can't handle talk'v death, but others don't mind it so much." Someday, maybe, she'd let him see why. It was a memory she carefully sat on, not willing yet to share it. "The world leaves us all behind in the end. You've just lasted longer than any other society going - but that's not so hard to do, when you live forever."

She paused. This was not, perhaps, a good idea, but she didn't care. She couldn't hurt Thranduil, no matter how far over the edge she went; he could probably disarm her in half a heartbeat, and she knew already how effectively he could restrain her. She didn't need to worry that she might kill him by mistake, should things go wrong. "I'm willing," she said, facing the thing.

It wasn't terribly hard to imagine it was Sean, with his greedy eyes and grasping fingers, blond hair cut so close to his scalp he might as well not have had any. She'd seen the way he looked at Bridie, at Maire, at half the women in Lasg'len, and the fact that he never actually did anything didn't make her hate him any less. She'd seen what his sort could do, when she was young - what they'd done to girls she knew.

Lorna had fairly decent vision for a human, especially a woman her age. Somehow, when she was truly enraged, it sharpened - Doc Barry back home said it had something to do with blood pressure. Whatever the reason, it wasn't at all difficult to summon it, because the wrath was always there, simmering beneath the surface of her consciousness, a well of rage nearly fathomless in its depth.

Her execution wasn't perfect, which really wasn't a surprise, but it was as close as she could get. Always when she'd fought, she'd gone in low, darting beneath an opponent's reach, but this time she did as she was shown first, sweeping and stabbing with all the force she could muster before staggering backward, yanking the sword free and automatically bringing it across where Sean's gut would be. She'd known, briefly, a guy who'd died of a gut-wound, and his mates said it was horrible and slow-

She never was properly aware, when this happened. Shane had once told her it was like watching her shift into someone else without actually changing - her posture, her expression...he called it 'going blank'. For a moment she went very still, then inexpertly brought her sword around again, charging and rising on her tiptoes, somehow managing not to trip, and drove the blade clean through the dummy's head, twisting it with an almost sub-audible snarl. So lost was she in her own imagination that her thumbs gouged deep into what would have been Sean's eyes, had this really been him, clawing at the blank face, blunt nails raking out bits of straw.

Unseen by Lorna, Thanadir had entered the room as well; having divested himself of his usual outer robe, he had taken up a blade. Explaining to his seneschal silently what was wanted, he gave him a moment to prepare, before simultaneously pulling both Lorna and her sword backward, returning the blade to her hand, and aiming her at Thanadir. "Lorna, you have not defeated Sean with your rage. He still stands. What are you feeling, Lorna? Are you frustrated?"

Turning her loose felt much like releasing a hound on its way to the kill, in his eyes. Her difficulties with anger ran deeper than he thought, and he thought quite a lot. He needed to see what fueled it...was it that she dwelled on the injustices of her life too often? She certainly seemed to have little hesitation or fear of expressing her anger, from what he'd just seen. But every fire had a means of being extinguished, and it was up to him to understand what fed this one. Lorna launched at who she believed to be Sean, only this time her few practiced motions were easily deflected. Thanadir's only order was to keep her at bay and to be prepared for unconventional forms of attack; that would be child's play for him. "Lorna," Thranduil asked louder as she lurched forward once again with her blade. "Are you frustrated yet?" Wisely, it occurred to him to shut the practice room door, in case she tried to run.

Lorna was, at the moment, entirely beyond speech, and almost beyond rational thought, but Thranduil would be able to know exactly what she was feeling. The sword wasn't working, but the sword was new - she didn't know what she was doing, so she discarded it, and didn't have enough higher cognition to wonder why Sean had one. She'd always been a hand-to-hand fighter; it was what she knew, so she ducked beneath his reach, aiming an elbow at his stomach.

The problem, or one of many, with Lorna was that she wasn't afraid to get hurt. When she was in the grip of her fury, she didn't have an ounce of self-preservation. Maybe Sean would hurt her, maybe - Jesus, that was fast. It was fast and she was fast, and sooner or later she'd land a hit, she had to, driven by one all-consuming urge: hurt him hurt him kill him - and then there was only the heat of rage, magma-hot as it seared through her veins, her mind so blank it relied only on animal instinct.

Thranduil came into her mind as the loudest voice she had ever heard. LORNA. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO ACT OUT THE THINGS YOU THINK. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO ACT OUT THE THINGS YOU THINK…. He let it run like a tape loop in her mind, occasionally accented by, YOU HAVE LOST, LORNA. YOUR ANGER HAS CONTROLLED YOU. He heard her own voice, goading her on, and was determined to drown it out with something even she could not ignore. Thanadir continued to easily evade her attacks, even as he privately marveled at what strength of spirit she had...albeit turned to all the wrong uses.

The words in Lorna's mind at first made no sense, but they gained clarity in a hurry, and startled her so badly she staggered back with a cry. All thought of Sean was gone, broken by nightmare, by memory - shit, she was disoriented, and disorientation got you killed-

Phantom pain bloomed in her ribs, ghost of the kick she'd taken to her left side at sixteen. Her rib cage was actually slightly deformed, because she hadn't dared go to hospital. Down her chest, the searing slice of glass - the closest anyone had ever come to really getting her, the scar still monstrous over twenty years later. The things, the fights she'd nearly lost, the horrors that even now invaded her dreams at times. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe, and oh God it hurt…

Thranduil ran up behind her, perceiving her disintegrating state of mind, and recognizing it as something all too familiar. He had hoped to provoke something out of her, anything that might allow him to see a fuller truth concerning what fueled her extreme transformations. He had not expected this, but when the images arose, suddenly a great deal made sense. _Lorna. Please, will you allow me to help you? I can, if you will let me._

She scarcely had the wherewithal to recognize his voice, but her instinct wasn't always a bad thing - it couldn't answer him in words, but it came as close to _please_ as her shattered mind could manage.

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled her down with him to the floor where he knelt, holding her against him, with one hand over her forehead. _Be still, Lorna. There will be no pain._ At an unspoken command, Thanadir came to him as well, and faced him, laying his hands over those of his King. They both closed their eyes, and softly whispered words only they understood. Thranduil could still not say exactly why he was choosing to offer this, to heal one mortal life to whom he was not obligated, when doubtless millions of them suffered as she did. Or perhaps it was not so complicated, after all. Both ellyn understood the devastation of a broken spirit, and Thranduil knew that he would be false, not to admit that he saw something of his own trials in her. He could not help himself, back then...but Thanadir had. And now he was helping this strange, diminutive woman who was as true-hearted as she was astoundingly vulgar, and with whom fate had decreed they would share an experience. When the light of healing had faded from their countenances, he asked Thanadir to retrieve a chair. He placed her in it, as Thranduil guessed that finding herself held by either of them would displease her, they both watched her carefully. She was not asleep, but neither was she oriented; this much he could tell. And even Earlene, who was arguably far less damaged, had taken many minutes to reconcile herself to what she found suddenly missing within her.

Lorna felt...she honestly wasn't sure what she felt. Hollowed-out, but not in a bad way. It was beyond alien - she almost felt like a different person, but...not. Had she gone and taken something? Surely she'd remember that, and this was more...pure, somehow, than any drug. She tried to summon speech, and utterly failed; for some minutes, she was content to stay in this nebulous half-dream, while her brain tried to work out what was different.

Eventually, she managed a single word: "What?" What was this odd sense of - of lightness? It was so wholly unfamiliar. Something she had never known was there was missing now, but it was no bad thing. Somehow, she managed to open her eyes, and saw both Thranduil and Thanadir watching her. Oh Christ, had she gone and done something embarrassing? She didn't think so, but her recent memory was fuzzy at best. Her mind was somehow raw, and she feared to tax it, but it was less like a fresh wound and more like something lanced and drained of poison. This was…

No, this wasn't wholly unfamiliar. She'd felt an echo of it before, during her achingly brief time with Liam. It was peace, or something like it - something she'd never been able to find in herself. She didn't think she was the one who had found it now.

With a word from Thranduil, Lorna found her arm wrapped firmly around Thanadir's, as she was guided carefully through the maze of passages. After a minute, no, a quarter of a minute, she wondered how anyone could ever tell one thing from another in this elven labyrinth. Eventually, though, they came to another wooden door (had she seen any that weren't wooden? They didn't seem to go in for glass, here) which Thranduil opened. Lorna rapidly found herself seated at a beautiful table, with a bowl of hot soup, rolls, and what she could swear was a spork and a knife on the side of the plate. "You are to eat, Lorna, as much as you like," Thranduil said, in his best Kingly "don't argue" tone of voice as he seated himself across from her. Thanadir sat next to her, and she looked up to see that Earlene was present as well, smiling at her with a look that only said, she was glad to see her here.

Normally, Lorna would have automatically resented being addressed in that tone, but just now she still felt so strange, so light, that she wasn't capable of resenting anything at all. She wouldn't have thought she'd be capable of hunger, either, but the scent of the soup woke that with a vengeance.

Fortunately, her table manners had survived whatever odd purge Thranduil had done to her mind. She watched Earlene out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to be a creeper and stare openly. Earlene had mentioned that Thranduil had helped her - was this what she meant? Part of her, the deep part that she could never truly rid herself of, was incredibly disturbed that such a thing was possible, no matter how grateful the rest of her was. Magic still, even now, unsettled her just a bit, but this...she wouldn't have thought this feeling was possible. This had to be peace, or the nearest thing to it she was capable of. It was so very much like what she'd known when she traveled with Liam, but far stronger. Perhaps she'd felt a faint echo of it with Gran as well - just enough to recognize it for what it was.

Lorna wondered how the hell she could ever repay something like that. Helping with legal shite didn't seem like enough, somehow; not when something inside her had been so fundamentally altered, poison she didn't know she carried drained away. It wasn't something she could have ever hoped to do on her own.

She wished either she or Earlene had telepathy - there were questions she wanted to ask, so many of them, but they had no place at a lunch table. (See? She really did have manners. Sort of.) Even she knew some things were too personal; she wouldn't ask why precisely it had been necessary, though Earlene had hinted enough that she could make a good enough guess. Asking about the result, about what it felt like - that might not be too personal.

The soup and rolls were fantastic, though it was all she could do not to dip the latter in the former and eat it that way. (Again, table manners. Gran had actually smacked her knuckles when she'd done it one too many times. Hey, it wasn't Lorna's fault she'd grown up without much in the way of proper dishes.) She ate far too much of both, surprising even herself with how hungry she turned out to be, and even managed to avoid belching. Gran would have been proud - or at least, not completely exasperated.

While Thranduil enjoyed his ongoing amusement from Lorna's train of thought as it continued to teeter down its tracks, he had silently informed Earlene of some very basic matters. Namely, that her friend had just experienced an ordeal of sorts which was private to her, had been aided by the ellyn, and that it would not go amiss after the luncheon if she could persuade Lorna to make use of the heated tub in the next room; she needed to rest and have time alone with her own thoughts. He and Thanadir would leave, as soon as they were done eating, which is exactly what transpired.

"Earlene, Lorna, you will please excuse Thanadir and myself; we must attend to some matters that will require, at a minimum, the better part of two hours." Thanadir was already placing the remains of the meal onto a large platter that he bore away.

"Yes, my Lord," Earlene replied serenely, considering her words only after the automatic response had escaped her lips. Perhaps that would have been better avoided, but...if Lorna was here, it was in a way time to stop hiding reality from her. Her relationship with Thranduil was both as King and husband, and it had begun to feel slightly tiresome to pretend that the first did not exist. She did not expect her friend to understand, like it, or ever wish this for herself. But Earlene had chosen it, and saw little point in continuing to obfuscate that decision...though she would equally not be nauseating about it. The ellyn were gone within a minute.

Earlene looked at her friend across the table, basically grateful to have another break from her studies; her books and notes were at another table across the room, a little nearer to the fire.

"Would you like to sit next to the fire for a few minutes?" Earlene asked. "As much as I like my wood stove, I'm afraid I've gotten a little spoiled, by having it."

Lorna nodded, still seeming very much as though she was not fully present. Earlene thought carefully, before speaking. "I don't know what happened between all of you, nor do I need to. I only want to say that if you want to talk, I'm here and glad to listen. And, as it looks like you are stuck here for at least the next few hours, there is something you might enjoy, quite a lot, in the other room. He has a private bath that is….well, it's unreal, in the nicest possible way, and he's welcomed you to use it if you'd like. Everything's already in there; all you have to do is close the door behind you and enjoy yourself. I've got weeks of studying to do; don't feel obligated to entertain me if you'd prefer to just have some time to yourself. Either way I'm not going anywhere." Her tone of voice she kept encouraging and neutral, because if nothing else, she recognized that whatever had happened, it had been psychologically profound to Lorna. And that it would not surprise her in the least, if their elven gifts had been a part of it.

Lorna managed a vague wave good-bye to the elves, their departure drawing her a little further out of her own mind.

She had to admit, the 'My Lord' grated on her every single Irish sensibility - especially since Earlene was his wife, for Christ's sake. But this really was something of a separate country, for all it sat within Ireland, and its people weren't human. She might not like their customs, but she could keep her mouth shut about it. They respected human norms while out in the world outside the forest; the very least she could do was do the same while in here. No doubt there was plenty about humanity that grated on the elves, too, but if they'd said anything about it, it wasn't to her.

"I'd...yeah," she said, struggling for words even as she moved. "I don't often have a fireplace to sit by. My Gran, she always heated the cottage with a wood stove, and I do, too." The heat felt entirely welcome as she sank down onto a very fat chair. "I'm not - to be honest, I'm not sure what he did," she said, casting Earlene a slightly helpless look. "I think it might be something like what you said he did with you...something in my mind I didn't really know was there is gone now. That he can even do that - it's scary, but it's not, if you take my meaning." Oh how she wished she had a better way with words. Earlene seemed to handle these people, this place, with such equanimity, even if it hadn't always been the case. Lorna probably wouldn't ever stop gawking like a tourist. "I didn't realize what I was feeling was peace. Am feeling. I've never properly known it before. Closest I ever came was with Liam, and even that wasn't like this. I'm half afraid I'll wake up."

Earlene sifted Lorna's words carefully. "Probably only he can tell you exactly. And he would try, I think, if you asked him. When he...healed me, of what I guess I have to refer to as my 'mental health issues,' I didn't expect that he could do that, even though I already knew he could heal injuries of the body. I'll be honest, I've never questioned him more about it since then; I'm not sure why. Maybe because too many other things came up, like finding out we were married." She snorted, at what still seemed to her like the vague absurdity of their relationship, but with a smile. "But in my odd moments of trying to frame it into a possibility I can understand...I'm no psychiatrist, but our minds are just...our bodies. Everything that goes on in our brains are electrical impulses and neurotransmitters and chemicals most people can't pronounce...and when all that stops working right, so does how we think and feel. Neuroscience tells us that our life experiences can cause that damage in the first place. Obviously, Thranduil can repair psychological injury just as he can a broken bone, though the Whats and Hows of that are beyond my ability to know. What I most remember feeling right afterward, when it happened to me, is searching my mind for the familiar sensations. Looking inside myself for the anxiety, the feeling of an elephant standing on my chest, the pain, and the certainty that I would always be broken. And it was gone. All of it was missing. For awhile I was sure it was a delusion, and that all it would come back, but it didn't. It doesn't mean I still can't get angry, or sad...I'm still learning to adjust." Her voice dropped greatly in volume. "It was a priceless gift I can never repay."

In spite of everything, Lorna snorted. She didn't know what she'd do, if she were to discover she'd accidentally got married - even if it was to her boyfriend - but it wouldn't be pretty. She didn't know if she wanted to ask Thranduil or not - it was a decision, like pretty much every other possible decision, that she wasn't capable of making yet, but she probably didn't have to in any kind of hurry.

She stared into the fire, watching the dance of orange and gold, searching for words. "I'm not even sure just what my mind's looking for," she said slowly. "It's always been there. I've always been that way, as far back as I can remember, and how d'you describe something that's been so much a part'v you that it doesn't even have a name? I've always had that rage, that hate, that...that." She absently rubbed at the scar on her chest - it ran from her left collarbone to halfway down her sternum. "It's...anger's a tool, where I came from. It keeps you safe, but I haven't needed it in years - it's just been a stone around my neck. I'm not sure what I'm going to do without it."

She looked at Earlene, shaking her head again. "I was thinking that myself - how the hell d'you repay something like that? All the shite I've got from Niamh, all the shady people I know...it doesn't feel like enough. Any idiot with enough connections could do that."

"Well, if you are me, you use it to learn to be free of unhealthy behaviors. Look, while I don't know all of your life, it doesn't take a genius to see that where I had stability and opportunities, you didn't. And I've never let myself forget how incredibly fortunate I was, to have those things. When people get a bad start in life, whether it's shite family, poverty, poor health, lack of education, or all those things and more rolled into one, what it amounts to is lost potential. It makes the person who lost out have to work ten times harder just to survive, forget about getting ahead. Call it what you want...fate, cosmic injustice, luck...I've no idea. But it's all the difference in the world, in terms of who ends up where. And yet some people manage to survive where others are destroyed. The only truly bad thing that ever happened to me was 9/11. And I felt ashamed that I couldn't get past it on my own, and that one great misfortune left me that way. Some people probably live their entire lives like it's 9/11 every day..." she trailed off.

"Don't think in terms of paying Thranduil back. First, it isn't possible. Second, it would be like trying to pay someone back for being your friend. I'm not going to claim to be an expert on him a whopping few weeks into being his wife, but that you are even here means that he thinks very highly of you. Take it for the compliment that it is, and roll with it. He'll still want to pay you, for the stuff with the lawyer and all; he won't view that as being connected to this whatsoever. Look at this place. He has the means, and he wants to do it. Where I come from, it's called 'salary.' And if I could give a bit of advice, don't underestimate yourself, Lorna. I've seen plenty of people convinced into believing that what they do or who they have access to has no real value, when it absolutely does."

Given her heinous, carefully-hidden dyslexia, Lorna wasn't quite sure how much potential she would have had even with a better history - but she'd never know. For all she knew, maybe she could have made it as a doctor. Christ knew she'd patched up her siblings and her fellow gang members over the years. Squeamish she was not. She picked at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. "9/11...I don't think anyone who wasn't affected by it could actually understand," she said. "I mean, I grew up with the Troubles, but they had nothing at all on that. I can't imagine…" She couldn't imagine losing absolutely everyone she cared about in one fell swoop. Oh, she'd lost people, but it had been gradual, spread out over three decades. She hadn't suddenly found herself completely alone, having watched them all die, even from a distance. How she'd lost Liam, that had been nightmare enough for anyone - Christ, she hoped Thranduil hadn't got that memory from her - but she'd had Mairead, and Gran. She hadn't been left entirely alone. "I watched my husband die," she said, trying to force her thoughts into words, "but I was lucky. I'd never met my older sister, or my gran, but they took me in, and didn't ask any questions. They didn't try to force me into being anything I wasn't - just let me grow at my own pace, sort'v thing. I was twenty-eight, but in a lot'v ways I'd never grown up. I'd never had a proper, legal job...hell, I hadn't even got my Junior Certificate, let alone my Leaving. My oldest niece, she'd say I'd never learned adulting until then. Now...my life's not what you'd call glamorous, but it's mine, you know? I built it for myself, and now I can - I can see it better, with whatever it is Thranduil did. I didn't properly see the value in it until just now."

She looked back up at Earlene. "He's not come right out and said it, but I think he sees a bit'v himself in me. He told me his da was a right nightmare like mine was, and I think maybe he might've once reacted to it like I have, and managed to move on. He must think that I can, too, and now...maybe he's right." She snorted, unable to help herself. "What I do...I've only got all these connections because I went to prison. They're useful as hell, but there's no getting around the fact that I've got them because I went down for manslaughter. What movies and books don't tell you about prison is just how often people keep in touch on the outside."

Earlene smiled. "I could see that. If Oropher were here I think I'd scheme to kill him myself, even though it would probably be the challenge of a lifetime. I wonder if poison works on elves? That bastard…." she muttered. "While I've never been in prison," she mused, "connections are an amazing thing. I'd argue, no one gets anywhere without them. I didn't. My da used to say, "It's not what you know, it's who you know. And as much as I didn't want him to be right about that, he was."

 _Not what you know, who you know._ Lorna had heard that saying, but never really thought of it in this context. "Thranduil, he didn't give me any details, but he didn't need to. If Oropher really was like my da...I can guess well enough." Her own da had only hit her if she got in his way (which, admittedly, was fairly often), but what he'd done to her eldest brother, Pat...she had no idea what had happened to Pat, to this day. She'd looked, but if there was anything to be found, she'd not found it. "I've never really had much cause to make use'v the people I know - not until now. But now...you've no idea," she said, and couldn't help but grin. There was Niamh, but there were also Shane and Orla - Shane had taught her mechanics, and had a legitimate business, but he did plenty of fencing on the side. If the elves needed something moved or sold, he was their man. Orla had gone into forgery, cybertheft, and general hacking in addition to running a motorcycle shop: she'd done time herself, and discovered she had an aptitude for computers that she naturally had to put to felonious use. In some fundamental ways, Lorna had a feeling people never did change - but so long as you weren't hurting anyone, was that really a bad thing? Nobody in this day and age wanted to hire an ex-convict; it was little wonder so many kept on as criminals. What else were they to do?

She'd got lucky - Big Jamie had given her a chance as a favor to Mairead, and she'd discovered that she actually quite liked mixing drinks and tending bar. Getting her Junior and Leaving certificates had taken her a couple of years, but Siobhan, who had studied to be a teacher before coming home to take care of her mam, had done what she could to work around the dyslexia. She had no problem with reading - five years in prison without much to do gave her plenty of practice - but when it came to writing, or reading someone's handwriting, she was still total crap. Part of her hoped like hell elves didn't know what dyslexia was, because she was quite sure Thranduil would make her deal with it if they did.

"Let's just say there's loads I can do for you lot that're a lot more use than I've ever done anyone before now," she said, shaking herself from her thoughts.

Earlene considered, and hoped that what she was about to ask was not something forbidden to her...but as it had to be asked, in order to accomplish anything, it was circular reasoning to think it was avoidable. "I'm possibly going out on a limb here regarding what I'm allowed to say, but as you're not stupid and it has to be asked eventually, do any of those people to whom you referred include someone who can sell gemstones or precious metals at a fair price? I don't think I need to tell you that their savings isn't in Euros."

Lorna didn't quite manage to smother a grin. "I didn't figure it was," she said. "My mate Shane, I know he does some jewelry, but I'm not sure the extent. I'd have to ask him what he's willing to fence - it'd probably take a while, since large amounts'v anything would raise red flags just about everywhere. If he can't do too much, he'll know people we can trust. They'll not ask to meet with you, but they'll probably ask to meet with me. They're not the sort that ask many questions - they'll just want to know I'm not a narc or anything." That was the way of it in any criminal network, really, no matter how minor. You might not know why the person you worked with wanted a thing, but for your own safety, you had to be able to trust them - insofar as their kind could trust anyone, anyway. There was always the risk of being stabbed in the back, but everyone she knew had solid reputations among their compatriots. In the unlikely event this did go south, there was nothing to tie it to the elves - just to Lorna herself, and she had enough friends that nobody but the desperate or deficient would bother with her.

Earlene nodded. "There is more I'd like to ask but...I owe it to the trust he has placed in me not to say more than he would want said, and since I'm not even sure I should have said the obvious, I should wait. Gah. That came out like a mess, but at some point I need a clearer understanding of what things sell for against their value….just because something can sell retail or is appraised for a given price, it doesn't mean that sum can be had in this situation. I had ideas about how to do this, to try and attract less attention but...when it comes down to it, it isn't so simple."

Lorna chewed the inside of her cheek, thoughtful. "Well, once you actually can say more, give me a list," she said. "Just a random list, and I'll take a day trip to see Shane. If he knows what we've theoretically got, he can theoretically give us an estimate, but we've got to note down weight on that list. He told me ages ago things like gold and silver sell by weight, and what they go for depends on the market." Whatever the hell that even meant. "I've got no idea at all about gemstones, but I could find out from someone, if he doesn't know."

 _Meluieg, you may speak to her as you feel is necessary. We have placed our trust in you, in this._

"Len hannon, i Aran nîn,", Earlene said aloud, confusing the conversation in her mind with the one being spoken aloud, before staring into space as she caught herself. "Oops. Wrong discussion. I was just given permission to, ah, speak freely." Looking at Lorna, she tried to decide how to, no, what to say. "I think the easiest way to say this is, what they have would make your head explode. My problem is to understand how to convert what they have into what they need for their interactions with human society, in amounts and at times that will not draw government attention. How to come up with what that sum should be, currently eludes me, because I don't feel I understand the scope of their needs at all, at this point in the game. Right now, I am caring for what transactions they've made out of my own finances, small though they are by comparison. But….there are gems in there large enough to make headlines. And smaller, ordinary enough ones that would attract far less notice. Of every size and description. And while I'm not a jeweler, the quality appears to be very high. I'd thought to perhaps put one large gem out at an auction house, to just see if I could land one outrageous sum of money from a private collector. But…" she buried her face in her hands for a few seconds, before looking up. "No pressure whatsoever," she said, her voice becoming a little shaky. It was extremely obvious, that Earlene felt the weight of this responsibility heavily.

Jesus, this poor woman… "You leave that to Shane and I," Lorna said. "He'll know, or he'll know people who can find out what's safe to do, and when. Shane - he's only six years older than I am, but if anybody came close to raising me, he did. He'll help, whatever I ask, so long as I'm not implicating him in anything over his head." Knowing him, his first question would be to ask if she'd got herself in some kind of trouble. The biggest problem with Shane was the fact that he was over-protective as hell; she'd have to find some way to put this to him that wouldn't put his hackles up on her behalf. "With a gem...would Thranduil mind if I took a picture'v one with my phone, so I can show Shane roughly what I'm talking about? He'll be better able to guess if he's got something to look at." She paused, but figured she had to ask anyway. "How d'you feel about theft? Only I know someone else - my mate Orla - if it's money they're needing in a tearing hurry, she could get it."

"No," Earlene answered hurriedly. "There is no need to resort to that. I came here with...resources enough. I've tried to have a pragmatic view of illicit activity. If one must, one must. But if it is possible to keep clean hands, it will always be my first choice. Not just because I've tried to be a decent person, but also because...the more times someone plays that game, the greater the chances of being caught. Not to mention...I am in a position where what I do now reflects on them, and I cannot see an elf willingly abiding that choice unless it was a question of survival. Regarding the other...I believe Thranduil would allow it, but we have to wait for his return. My privileges do not include that kind of access...nor honestly do I want them to." Sighing deeply, she smiled. "You really ought to think about that bath," she teased.

For Lorna, the chances of getting caught had always been something of an adrenaline rush, but she knew that was most definitely not something most people would share - and she could easily see why the elves might not want in on that, either. She didn't quite know what she thought about 'privileges', because she had no idea what that meant, and didn't think now was the time to ask. Hell, maybe there never would be a time to. She knew there was plenty of stuff she wasn't going to be let in on, simply because it was private to the elves and Earlene. "Well, if they - and you - are ever in horribly dire straits, you won't need to stay there. I can't imagine how you'd wind up there to begin with, but you never know, the world being what it is. I'll have a talk with Shane, before we go any further. If I need more than him, he'll let me know who, and I'll bring all that back with me once I've got it." She cracked her neck, wincing a bit. She was too old to be fighting like that, dammit. "A bath sounds lovely," she said. "I don't fully remember just what all I did, but I did it too damn hard." A pause. "This would be the part where my nephew would say 'that's what she said'."

"That one, I do not know…" Earlene noted, mystified. "What does that mean?"

Lorna laughed. "If you say something that sounds a bit dirty without meaning to, or something that could be taken the wrong way, somebody'll come out with 'that's what she said'. My nephew'll always be the first one in, once the opportunity presents itself."

"Ahhhh. Good to know," she laughed.

It was sad, just how stiff Lorna was when she hauled herself out of the chair, and her vertebrae cracked like a line of firecrackers. Just what the hell had she done - or rather, what had she either hit and/or run into? This was ridiculous. "I love my nieces and nephews, but they're all teenagers now, and stroppy as all hell. Though I've got to admit, Kevin can belch the first verse of the national anthem." She wasn't going to mention that she was the one who'd taught him how.

Earlene exploded with laughter. "When we were kids my brother was grounded for a week for doing the same thing. Dad's sense of humor didn't go that far…." Never having entirely liked her brother, for her, it was a pleasant reminiscence.

"Oh God," Lorna said, shaking her head. "Some things cross the ocean, I guess. I told my sister it's no bad thing if he's doing it, because it's good breath control. Which is rank crap, but I had to defend the poor lad." She paused. "Should I brush all this sawdust and whatever off me?" There wasn't actually that much, but she did vaguely remember mauling a straw dummy like a tiny, infuriated mountain lion.

"I wouldn't bother. Though if you want them tidied up, toss them back out the door once they're off; I know where I can shake them out without making a mess, and I'll toss them back in when I've done it. I don't mind, and it would let me procrastinate studying a little more," she said with a gleam of hopefulness in her eye.

"If it'll help you procrastinate," Lorna said, following her.

The room she was confronted with was over the size of her living room and kitchen combined, with a truly massive pool that looked quite like the hot springs near Kildare, but the water was a vivid turquoise. Steam curled off it, and she could see beneath the surface several benches of different heights, so a person could relax without having to either tread water or cling to the edge. There were so many jars of what she assumed were soaps and shampoos that she couldn't help but grin. "I knew it," she said, breathing in the mingled scents as she examined a rack full of more towels than any one person could hope to use at once. The floor was stone in some places, but in all the areas one would need to walk, there were drains formed from wooden slats. As with everywhere else in this place, she had no idea just what the hell kind of lamps were illuminating it. Obviously it wasn't electric light, but it also didn't seem like fire or candlelight. If she had a bathroom like this back home, she'd never leave it - she'd do whatever work she had to from the tub. Somehow, the pool filled with new water even as the old drained, and she wondered if it was a natural phenomenon, or something the elves had designed.

All of the jars and bottles were labeled, but all the labels were, naturally, written in the elves' alphabet, and she ran her fingers over them. "I knew it," she said again, looking at Earlene. "Nobody's hair is that good without fantastic products." Mairead was a hairdresser; Lorna would know. She forked out more money on her own hair than she could probably justify, but if she was going to wear it this long, she had to take care of it. And yet, even with all the care she gave it, these damn elves had the kind of hair that would make Mairead downright greedy.

Earlene snatched up Lorna's oddly messy clothing (were those straw bits? What had Thranduil done with her, had her clean out a stable?) Grinning, she bundled up the clothes and left their quarters. What she had elected to not disclose to Lorna was that the "nearby place not to make a mess" was outside the gates of the Halls. Anything, anything at all, to stall studying for awhile longer. She'd worked at the language all the way to lunch without a break, and still felt disinclined to continue. And somehow, she truly didn't believe her husband would mind; he seemed more concerned that she was overdoing it than that she was being lax in her obligations.

Earlene loved that she now knew how to confidently navigate to and from at least one destination in the vast caverns. As her slippered feet padded noiselessly through the vast spaces and arched walkways, she asked herself if she would ever be able to believe that finding herself in these Halls was ordinary. _One month ago I was standing in a Manhattan courtroom, presenting one of my last cases. Today, I am the wife of the Elvenking, walking through his ancient domain while wearing elven garments. I have to accept it, but I am not certain I can ever understand how this came to pass. Or that I would not trade this for any other outcome…_

Thranduil had taught her that there was a phrase by which to open the gates; a complete _duh_...if one spoke Sindarin. "Ennyn Thranduil edro" (Open, Thranduil's doors), she said politely, though she somehow doubted the gates were sentient. Taking the garments, she walked to the bridge in a place there were no leaves or other debris, and one at a time shook the hell out'v 'em, as gran would have said. Bits of straw obligingly sailed off into the air, though she did spend some minutes checking and picking at the last clinging bits.

The clothes were worn, well-used. Not threadbare, but not exactly robustly intact, either. Earlene sighed and shook her head. Whether Lorna realized it or not, she had stumbled into a connection with a world that would easily bring her financial stability, if not outright wealth, by her standards. And that, she smiled is what that phrase means, "it's who you know." Her perception of her husband was that to the extent he could manage it, he would elect to change Lorna's circumstances substantially, while strangely enough never requiring her to fully join the crew, so to speak. _Maybe I should feel resentment about that, even though I suggested it, but I do not_ , she reflected. _In the end I would have vowed fealty to Thranduil regardless because...I would have wanted to. I would have fallen for him, loved him, regardless... Lorna is another matter entirely; she should not be caged. Perceptions can be everything to some people, and she is clearly one who needs to believe that her choices remain solely with her...though I doubt any of us that come to care about others are truly ever free of obligation. There are bonds stronger than promises or chains, and Thranduil of all people knows that just as well as I do._

Finished more or less with her flogging of the clothes, she returned, and as promised knocked softly to warn that she was opening the door to toss back the clothes; she did not want Lorna to have the panic of thinking it might be one of the ellyn. Nudity with others could be so….weird. In college, she quickly worked past any issues of being seen unclothed by other women; the gymnasium showers had managed that. But some people never did feel comfortable, or never had that experience, so it was always best to err on the side of caution and not go barging in. Closing the door, and with a huge sigh, she realized that she could no longer defer her studies, and returned to what she saw as her duty.

Lorna had far too much fun with that bathtub.

She swiftly realized that even the shallowest of the benches was too tall; trying to sit on it left her in water up to her eyes. She opted to jellyfish float instead, simply enjoying the hot water for a few minutes while her hair floated around her like some kind of anemone.

Inspection of some of the bottles left her with what she suspected were the right ones for shampoo, conditioner, and some form of body wash. The mingling of the various scents should have been unpleasant, but it was quite the opposite. Scrubbing her mass of hair was far easier when she could just float while doing it. She and Gran had made natural soap products, and used them for so long that she couldn't stand store-bought stuff, but this was far better even than the things they'd cooked up. If Thranduil insisted on paying her, she'd happily take some of it in the form of all these wonderful bath goodies.

While she could happily have lingered in there for hours, relaxing her stiff muscles, she was growing rather sleepy rather fast. Hauling herself out, she dried off, wrung out her hair, and wrapped it into a towel-turban before assembling her now straw-and-dust-free clothes. "Is there a comb I can borrow?" she asked, padding to the bathroom door. Using someone else's brush was a bit personal; she didn't want to just grab one without asking first.

"Around elves?" she heard from the other room. "Yes. Just don't freak when you see it." Earlene handed a comb through the door, hoping that Lorna would survive. It was ivory, with gold, and inlaid with jewels in the shape of flowers...and was also the only such implement anywhere in sight.

Lorna eyed the beautiful thing, that was probably worth more than the sum of everything she had ever owned. "What even is my life?" she wondered aloud, and set about very, very carefully combing out her hair. Whatever was in that elf conditioner made that astonishingly easy; it usually took her a good twenty minutes to patiently pick the snarls out of her hair after washing it. Yeah, she definitely wanted some of this as part of her salary. Even wet, she could already tell it had never felt this soft before. She had so much of it that it would take ages to dry, but she was quite curious as to just what it would feel like once it had.

Seriously, though. _What even was her life?_

Dry, dressed, and sleepy, she made her way back out to the fireplace, setting the comb carefully on an end-table. The sofa-type thing was probably perfectly sized for elves, but she actually had to hoist herself up onto it, sitting backward to let her hair get a little of the heat. She didn't want to interrupt Earlene, who seemed to be hard at work again; the sofa was comfortable, she was clean and relaxed and full of very delicious food, and shortly she was fast asleep.

Earlene looked up from the books at one point to see the inevitable result of Lorna's bath, and slightly envied her… _i lam Thindrim aaaaaaauuuugggggghhhhh_ (Sindarin) summed up how she was feeling just now.

 _Meluieg, came a voice laced with affection and amusement, I have heard enough. We will be there shortly. You are to set your studying aside and take a bath yourself._

Raising her eyebrows, she tried to think of another command that would be this easy to obey, and nothing came to mind. Stacking her materials neatly, she rose and happily did as she was told. Not too long afterward, a hand on the back of her neck startled her out of the dozing she was enjoying in the hot water. Clearing her throat, she said softly, "We are going to have to discuss your silence, husband. Mortals are prone to injury from being startled."

"Then I shall have to make amends," he smirked, quickly shedding his clothing to join her.

She arched her eyebrows. "I am trusting you to not offend our guest's sensibilities," she smiled.

"I shall not," he replied, his face still suffused with a mood she could only describe as 'slightly bratty.' He gently tweaked the tip of her nose with his fingertip, in emphasis. "Thanadir has taken Lorna to his rooms. She will not wake soon, and he will watch over her. It was his idea," he added, for good measure.

"He is very kind," she reflected. "I don't know if you told him to do all that for me when things turned ill, at the party, but I appreciated his actions, so much."

"I did not tell him," Thranduil said, reflecting, "but I can tell you that he likes you, and not just because your connection to me obliges him to care for you. It is deep in his nature, to care for the vulnerable." His words faded to a whisper, and Earlene sensed that their discussion was approaching emotionally difficult waters. She said no more, and turned to hold him. They sat for a very long time, not speaking, sharing an embrace. She did her level best to think of nothing, desperately wanting to afford him some peace and quiet from her constant thoughts.

Finally he announced, "it would seem that we should discuss finances, and that we should pay a visit to my vault. Now is as good of a time as any, I think."

Taking the hint, she soon was dried and dressed, using the same comb as she had handed Lorna to straighten out her tangles. "This is ivory? From what kind of animal, may I ask?"

He grinned. "You are not remembering your movies, Earlene. Oliphant."

Shaking her head with a smile, she returned the precious item to where she had originally found it.

Thranduil offered his arm to Earlene as he guided her through the maze of passages to the vault door, while she idly wondered whether she would learn to find her way around these Halls before she reached old age and needed a cane to get around.

"You should never need such a device, meluieg. I can keep you much as you are now, for as long as you are given years, unless an unexpected accident of some kind were to take you sooner. Though I can heal to the very edge of death, I cannot bring back a fëa that has departed. You will not age to outward appearances, but a day will come when it is unavoidable that you will...stop, and it will lie outside my power to do anything further about it", he said as gently as possible. "It is not given to me to undo the gift of Eru."

That was unexpected...and a far more generous offer than any other human on the planet could anticipate. But… "Thank you, for that is an incomparable gift. Yet I do not understand all of your words, Thranduil. Gift of Eru?"

He looked at her with both reluctance and sadness in his eyes, as if debating the extent to which he should explain. "Elves are bound to the world our Father created, Earlene. Were I to be killed, my fëa would return to Námo, one of the Valar. In his Halls I would rest, until a new body was given me; and then I would dwell in the Undying Lands. Elves cannot die, in the sense of the word that you know. And while it may sound like the greatest privilege of all, our fate is bittersweet. Try to imagine living in the world when it is always springtime, and summer, autumn, and winter can never arrive, and all things around you change and fade while you remain the same. Weary of your own thoughts and existence, and yet having no choice except to continue. But humans are not bound to the world, and when they die, their fëar go only Eru knows where. It is said that the day will come when Eru will make all things again as he originally intended, before evil came into his creation...but of this I know no more than you do."

Earlene smiled. "That is rather a lot to consider. I have ever dealt with questions of this nature by refusing to think much on them. While I am intelligent as humans go, it has always been my conclusion that some matters are too great to understand, and that one's happiness can be stolen away by trying. You will not hear me ask too often, about matters such as this. But you do not need to be afraid to speak of them to me. I have been determined in my heart, both before you came to me and now, to live the best life I could. My time with you is and will be extraordinary, and I cannot ask for more. Perhaps if nothing else, I am providing you in return with something new. A respite from long years of the same old thing. Humans can be useful, in that regard. We surprise ourselves, as a whole, at times. And perhaps we can surprise even you. While we cannot cause your spring to change to summer, we can offer you a world filled with the best of what we have achieved, to relieve the monotony...if you can also ignore the parts that are not so wonderful."

Her words astonished the King, who for the first time felt mildly out of his depth. That she would be so...phlegmatic, about her mortality, had not crossed his mind, but he was encouraged and gratified to see it. Neither of them spoke further on this matter, but spontaneously both stopped in the passage, reaching for each other and sharing a passionate kiss of love and shared experience. Breaking away with laughter, they continued on until they stood once again in what Earlene now fondly referred to in her mind as "the baby dragon's room." She regretted not having brought her own phone, which would have made this simpler, but it was back at her cottage.

"Obviously, I overheard your discussion with Lorna," Thranduil said. "And it should not rest with you, to determine our financial needs; that is rather more the provenance of myself and Thanadir."

"Pardon me, then, my Lord," Earlene answered, only to see him hold up his hand.

"My words were not meant as criticism, meluieg. I only meant that such calculations fall into the category of our ordinary duties. And while we met together, this is some of what we considered. Thanadir has been relentless in his learning, and it has included his best efforts to understand your financial systems and...what things cost? For lack of better words. We have discussed at length, and feel that a sum of five hundred thousand of your Euros would be a good initial goal. As you pointed out, there is time in which to accomplish this. The ease or difficulty of acquiring this sum will provide us with better understanding of how to proceed. And I should mention, a fifth of that alone is to provide for Lorna. I believe that this would be fair compensation for, say a year, not including any additional expenses she may incur? While her only wish from me may be elven hair oils, I am not content to see that be the extent of it," he grinned.

Earlene snorted. "I have an idea, about that. I will formally hire her as my personal assistant. It will be a legal transaction that will allow her to receive the income in an honest manner, though she will be required to pay taxes on it. Since I will be her employer, nothing will trace back to the elves, and since I am already established with a financial presence, monies that flow into my own accounts, at least in the amounts we are currently discussing, would escape notice. I have ways of moving the sums around among my holdings that would technically still be legal while allowing the activity to escape easy detection. As long as Lorna and I are both giving our taxes to our respective governments, the Powers that Be are content. I will set it up for her as a monthly salary, so that it will distribute over time...if, my Lord, this is acceptable to you." She paused. "Lorna will earn in a year what she used to earn in ten years, if I were to guess. I can teach her what to do, to guarantee her comfort and care for the rest of her life. I do not believe that she will be changed for the worse, by this."

"The worse?" the King echoed, puzzled.

"Some who have never had wealth use it very unwisely, when they come into it suddenly. They squander it on foolishness; luxury items, or dispersing it to undeserving friends and family that suddenly have their hands out to help themselves...such things as that. I see Lorna as having more sense. Hm. And if you are willing, I can ensure it. I can create a trust for her, into which some of these monies can go...instead of a large sum being available to her all at once, it would pay out to her monthly for all her life, with any leftovers to be given where she wishes on her death."

Thranduil considered. "I see. Then, look into this; I like this notion. Whatever else transpires, it is my wish that she is permanently cared for, in reward for her aid to us. The trust...that will be separate, and simply because I want to give it. This...prepaid card for her, you have prepared it?"

"Yes, Thranduil. It only awaits an initial amount, to be decided upon."

"Then, ten thousand of your Euros. And," he paused, selecting a considerable variety of gems, "these will go back to our rooms, where she may take her photographs. And we will see what comes of it."

Earlene nodded, smiling, and turned to leave.

"Wait, meluieg."

Chuckling to herself, she faced him once again, guessing what was coming. He held up a delicate necklace of emeralds and diamonds, that looked like a chain of tiny leaves and flowers. It was tasteful, and very pretty. "Lorna will be unhappy with me for insisting that she have this, but being King must have certain privileges," his eyes twinkled.

"That will compliment her eyes, as well as match the rest of her. Being so… if you will excuse the expression, we humans call someone with her small and slight build 'elfin', because it is how we imagine elves and faeries would look. A necklace like that will be very nice on her." She almost turned away again. "Are we done here?"

Thranduil laughed. "No, we are not, my suspicious queen. Your thoughts betray you; you did indeed escape here once without something for yourself, but I would like you to have this, now." He took her hand, and placed a golden band encircled with rubies on her finger, and the rubies were in turn encircled by the tiniest diamonds. It was lovely in appearance, and did not scream out of being a crown jewel. "These beautiful things do no good, sitting here, unappreciated. I would see at least a few of these pieces greet the light of day."

Admiring it, she thanked him. "You are very generous, Thranduil. I know that for you this is...nothing, it is an easy gift to give, and much appreciated by me. Try to remember, though, with Lorna...all such things will seem overwhelming. When you have hardly ever owned a nice piece of clothing, jewelry that would be very costly in the outer world is hard to fathom."

"I know," he said softly. "But, she is among us, now. It is one of many things to which I believe she will manage to adjust, in the end."

Lorna wasn't sure how long she slept, but when she woke, she found herself neatly tucked in on an entirely different sofa.

She rubbed her eyes, bleary, wondering where she was. It was a very large room, but lined with mannequins dressed in various outfits - some complete, some obviously not. They all seemed very elaborate to her taste, though she suspected some were simply normal daywear for an elf. It smelled strange, but not unpleasantly - it was actually a rather nice combination of lavender and something rather more masculine, though she could put no name to it.

Sitting up, she ran a hand through her hair, and discovered that not only was it completely dry - meaning she'd been asleep a good five hours - it was incredibly soft. Softer than she'd ever have thought possible, in fact, and she pulled it over her shoulder to inspect it.

Yes, she most definitely wanted some of...whatever that was. Her hair was shiny. There was more grey than black now in it, but whatever the hell was in that shampoo made the grey look more like silver. A lifetime supply of this and she would be happy forever.

She didn't at first recognize the faint sound she heard, quiet but rhythmic, until her brain made sense of it: a sewing machine. This must be Thanadir's flat, then.

Swinging her bare feet to the floor, she stood, half afraid to move - she didn't want to bump into anything. The stone floor was chilly, but the heat of the fireplace was welcome.

Following the noise (carefully, so very carefully), she found another room, this one as crammed as Mairead's craft room but far more organized, and prettier. Sure enough, Thanadir sat at the sewing machine, deep in concentration but looking so pleased that she was damn glad she'd hauled the thing out to Lasg'len. She wasn't sure she wanted to interrupt him just yet, though sitting and staring like a creeper would be too weird.

"Hi," she said, trusting that she wouldn't startle him. She doubted elves even got startled.

Thanadir had already learned to expertly stop the wheel on the machine, and immediately smiled as he looked up at her, moving his chair back. "Hello, Lorna," he said pleasantly and with only a slight hint of concern. "Are you feeling well? Do you have any pain?"

"I feel fine," she said, choosing her words carefully - she didn't want to toss out any weird phrases he might misinterpret negatively. Part of her wanted to ask if he was okay, for all she was pretty sure she hadn't landed so much as a single hit. "Better, now that I have slept. What are you making?"

"I am altering night clothes that the King requested," he said. "Lorna, this is so much faster," he went on, still obviously having found new love with the antique...that was millennia younger.

Altering...that was the thing she'd actually found harder than sewing something new, mostly because she inevitably cocked it up. "My Gran - my mother's mother - used it all the time," she said. "I'm sure she would be glad you have it, and can enjoy it." She paused. "Thanadir, I have an idea. I heard you play Bridie's violin at the pub. I would like to teach you to play the guitar, and songs in English. It will help you learn to speak it, and about Ireland's history."

"What is...guitar like? Is it like this?" He walked to a shelf of the room and carefully removed a stringed instrument that was not easy to identify. It had a shape reminiscent of a lute, but honestly, she did not know what it was.

"A bit, yes," she said. "The body's not solid like that, but they're similar. May I see it?" She almost didn't want to ask, but she was fascinated by all stringed instruments.

"Yes, you may," he said, handing it to her as though it were an infant.

Lorna took it as gently as though it were made of glass, her fingers delicate on the wood. It was probably at least ten times her age and worth more than her soul. She didn't even pluck a string - just ran her hands along them, intrigued. Not metal, but they didn't feel like any sort of gut, either, which she would have expected of an instrument this old. It was almost too large for her annoyingly tiny hands to play - both her acoustic and her electric guitar had had to be specially made, or else half her sharp chords resulted in a weird buzz because her finger could never reach the entire way across the neck.

After a moment, she gave one string a pluck - on a guitar it would have been E, and it actually sounded pretty close. Gently, carefully, she tested out the frets for Crow on the Cradle, a suitably melancholy Irish folk song that, most importantly, was not strenuous on the instrument. Her fingers itched to tune it to something more like her guitar, but she let it be. It worked just as well in this slightly different tone. "Is this all right?" she asked.

He nodded, with a look of palpable eagerness coming over his features.

She couldn't help but grin. "Now, there are some words in this song I would be surprised if you knew, so ask me later and I will explain. This song is about war, and how terrible a thing it is." That was an incredibly simplistic explanation, but it was the only one he was likely to understand yet. He'd get the more nuanced version when he spoke better English. "It's been a while since I sang anything, so forgive me if I miss a note." Not so long ago, she'd made a fairly good deal of money by panhandling with her guitar, but now she mostly played on rainy evenings when the pub was slow. Still careful, treating the instrument like something holy, she ran through the frets again.

"The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn," she sang, slightly more slowly than she otherwise would have, "now is the time for a child to be born."

Her fingers were getting the hang of this instrument now, and she was no longer quite so afraid to break it if she breathed wrong.

"He'll cry at the moon, and he'll laugh at the sun,

If he's a boy, he'll carry a gun,

Sang the crow on the cradle."

She watched Thanadir, searching his expression for signs of comprehension or confusion.

"If it should be that your baby's a girl,

Never you mind if her hair doesn't curl,

Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes

A bomber above her wherever she goes,

Sang the crow on the cradle."

'Bomber' was one she didn't expect him to get; even if he knew what planes were, it was awfully archaic.

"Rock-a-bye baby, the dark and the light,

Somebody's baby is born for a fight,

Rock-a-bye baby, the white and the black,

Somebody's baby is not coming back

Sang the crow on the cradle

This one was bittersweet for her, though the pain had long since gone out of it. Hers never managed to be born, for a fight or otherwise.

"Your mother and father, they'll scrape and they'll save,

Build you a coffin, and dig you a grave

Hush-a-bye little one, why do you weep?

We have a toy that will put you to sleep,

Sang the crow on the cradle,"

Her fingers stayed light on the strings, but she'd dropped it half an octave. Such a sad song deserved a certain amount of emotion, and part of the reason she'd made so much panhandling was because she actually put emotion into what she played. She'd seen way too many people whose voices were technical perfection, but whose singing was utterly soulless, a chore rather than a performance. In her mind, if you were going to go to the trouble of singing something, do it right.

"Bring me a gun, and I'll shoot that bird dead,

That's what your father and mother once said

Crow on the cradle, what shall I do?

That is the thing I leave up to you

Sang the crow on the cradle."

The last notes lingered in the air, drawn out by her touch. "Now," she said, "what did you recognize, and what did you not?"

He furrowed his brow. "I do not know 'hush-a-bye', nor 'rock-a-bye.' For the rest, I know the meaning of the words and yet I do not entirely understand how they are used here. I have...pictures, in my mind, but do not know if I hear what is meant."

"'Hush-a-bye and 'rock-a-bye' are things we say to babies who are crying," Lorna explained. "For the rest...hmm. Seventy-odd years ago, the entire world went to war. This song is much older than that, but it fits. Do you know what an airplane is? Machines that fly in the sky? A bomber is one of those, but made for war. The song is a tragedy, saying that all boys are bred for war, and all girls will live under the shadow of it. The crow represents death, which to us is inevitable, in whatever form it comes. 'Somebody's baby is not coming back' is just what it sounds like: in war, sometimes your skill doesn't matter. Sometimes you are lucky, or not. The weapons we have now are not like swords, or even bows. Some of them are so terrible that no one dares use them." She had no idea how to explain a nuclear warhead to him, and wouldn't have wanted to try even if she could.

"Then it is something like our songs, like poetry," he said, reflecting. "I very much enjoyed to hear it; thank you. I would like to see your guitar. Though you do not know our language, you might enjoy our songs as well. But perhaps now you are hungry? Soon it will be time to eat. Would you like to see more of Thranduil's Halls? We have perhaps an hour, and it is my pleasure to see that you are happy."

Lorna grinned at him, unable to help it. "I'll bring it, next time I come here," she promised. "And I love music in all sorts. I can't understand Latin, either, but beautiful songs are beautiful songs." Not so long ago, she wouldn't have imagined she'd be hungry again any time soon, but surprisingly, she was. "Food does sound good," she said, "and I've love a tour, though I'll warn you, I'm not so fond'v heights. When you're as short as I am, they're not your friend," she laughed.

"Then if you will allow me a few minutes to finish my task, you may take my arm. I will not allow you to fall." With a general air of happiness, Thanadir resumed his seat at the treadle, concentrating on..whatever it was...for the next several minutes while Lorna paid closer attention to the assorted details of the room.

How did the elves have so much beautiful fabric? She assumed they wove it themselves, but where did they get all this silk - or was it even silk? Thought of crafting even one of these robes entirely by hand...it was a wonder Thanadir hadn't snapped ages ago. It wasn't just the mannequins, it was the racks of dresses and robes and a host of other things she had no name for. Was he the only one who made all this? Surely not. She hoped not - but then, given that he seemed to spend most of his time wherever Thranduil was, he had to have a few helpers. Just what was his actual job description? While there was a lot she knew she wasn't going to be told about elf society - which was fair enough, since she wasn't going to take on the job she couldn't quit - she wondered if she'd be allowed to know that.

She wandered around the perimeter, careful not to actually touch anything. Thought of wearing so much fancy clothing, every day...she'd be terrified to even move in it, in case she somehow tore it, and it had to weigh a ton. Add in the fact that it was surely all washed by hand...yikes. It was a good thing older elves didn't need to sleep much, or they'd never get anything done.

Though...how old was Thanadir? If he'd been human, she would have pegged him as early twenties, but that was no guide with an elf. He was older than Thranduil, but not knowing how many thousands of years old Thranduil was, that was no help, either. Humans must seem like mayflies to them.

She tried not to think about what that meant for Earlene and Thranduil. Even if Earlene made it to a hundred, that was probably no time at all to an elf; from his perspective, she'd be dead in a heartbeat.

She knew he'd been married before, but did he have any idea just what he'd face far too soon? The fact that he'd find out...she'd only had two years with Liam, and it felt like he'd been stolen from her. At least she had some hope of seeing him again someday, once she followed him to wherever humans went when they died, but elves didn't die. Once Earlene did, they'd be separated forever.

Christ, that was tragic.

She shook herself out of her morbid thoughts, examining a dress of rusty velvet. Was Thanadir married? She wasn't sure how he could be, given that he seemed to have literally no free time, but maybe elf spouses were more tolerant of things like that. It wasn't like they had a finite number of years to spend together.

"You appear as though you have many questions, Lorna. You may ask them; I would imagine you must wonder about many things, here." Lorna hadn't noticed that the treadle had stopped, and that Thanadir had silently stood up.

"I was just wondering, how many things does your job entail? I mean, it seems like you do a bit'v everything," she said, not wanting to get into anything heavier yet.

"I am His Majesty's seneschal, which in your tongue is also called...steward. It is many things. Ages ago, I administered these Halls for the King; all those with different responsibilities reported to me. Keeping records, caring for the King's family, even teaching his son. In times of war, I fought alongside my King. When most of our people left, there was less to do. Little to do. So I learned many other skills. Sewing and music, working with wood, and metal. Elves that are never killed have a very long time in which to learn," he said with an air of….was it regret? "His Majesty wishes for much to change, now. I assist him, I learn your language and about your world. And Earlene; she is also my concern, to help in any way that is needed."

That...sounded like a job description and a half, but her mind seized on the word 'son'. Either the kid had died or sailed, but either way, ouch. Lorna wished she didn't understand that one. She'd privately wondered just how much fun living forever would actually be; it seemed she wasn't entirely wrong. "I know something I could teach you," she said. "Something that'll be completely new, unless I'm very much mistaken. You've seen the thing I ride to Earlene's? It's called a motorcycle. The cars you saw in Lasg'len - I can teach you how to build them." She could easily see him quite happily elbow-deep in a gutted engine. If Thranduil was so determined to pay her, she'd pick up some classic lemon and haul it into the village. Mick had space.

Thanadir smiled. "This must be a modern human invention? I like to learn new things. For awhile we will be busy. Then I will have more time, though I must still help Earlene in her studies. Tonight at dinner, we celebrate that we are all not faded any longer. You are invited. There are elven clothes you may wear, if you wish. No one else will be…" he searched for words by which to remain polite to her, "dressed in human garments."

If their language didn't consist of an entirely unfamiliar alphabet, Lorna would have loved to learn it alongside Earlene. Maybe she could get Thanadir to write her a key, so she could practice it on her own and not make a fool of herself. She couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at his slightly awkward politeness. "Meaning nobody'll look like they went mauling training dummies and losing?" she asked, failing to quash a smile. "You've actually got something little enough for me?" It hadn't escaped her notice that elven ladies, while all slender, did have something approximating an actual figure, as well as all being close to a foot taller than her. She prayed silently that some elf ladies wore pants, or this could get seriously uncomfortable. To her knowledge, never in all her thirty-nine years had she worn a dress.

Thanadir laughed. "There were elflings here, at one time, and some of them were ellith...girls, in your speech. There are many dresses here. And what I believe Earlene calls 'leggings.' It is usual for us to cover most of our bodies," he tried to explain, clearly at a loss concerning how much or how little to say. "Thranduil showed me that Earlene prefers these...leggings to wear, and her skirts not so very long. I found the same, for you, if you wish to wear them to dinner. There were many rooms, to search," he frowned, leading Lorna to wonder just how much time he had spent hunting for clothing just for her.

Oh, hell...if he'd gone and done a bunch of digging, she could hardly say 'no' now. She remained convinced that he would be perfectly capable of sad kitty eyes, like Puss in Boots in Shrek. Thank God for leggings, at least, but still… "I'm going to be honest with you, Thanadir," she said. "I've never worn a dress. You'll have to show me how to even get into it...that's what she said," she sighed, trying not to facepalm. "Show me how it works, I mean."

He laughed merrily. "I will help you. In the meantime, I will show you a little more of the Halls." Offering his arm, he guided her out of what she rapidly had come to think of as "smaller tunnels" into the one huge cavernous area. "We have the river, some waterfalls, storerooms, cellars, a forge...there is a room with very beautiful tapestries, and you have already been to the armory...I am not certain what you would enjoy to see?"

"You've got a forge?" she asked, and somehow managed to not sound too much like an over-eager schoolkid. "I've never seen one in real life. Though if I go get all sooty, I think Earlene might kill me. It'd be such a waste'v that lovely bath. If it was possible to build a copy'v that tub, I'd do it in a heartbeat." All other tubs had been thoroughly spoiled for her, now and forever.

"Yes, though it is not in use unless I build the fire for it; I do not work until a list of things needs making. At one time many smiths worked there...and then it was only me, when something was needed. But very soon there will be at least one more; another ellon knows this work. There are to be gardens, at Earlene's and elsewhere. That always means things being broken," he said with a grin. "If you do not touch the tools, you will not become dirty. You would like to see it?"

"Definitely," she said. "Once you've got it going again, I'd love to learn, too. I promise, I'm a lot stronger than I look." She'd always been strong, but years of hauling around beer barrels and automotive tools had kept her so. She couldn't help but match his grin, feeling rather like a kid at Christmas. She'd enjoy it while she could, because she knew wearing a dress wasn't going to end well, to one degree or another.

"I saw your strength. Much more than I expected. You are fearless, but you are not an elf. If you do not learn to fight differently, you will become badly injured. You fight like one who does not wish to remain living." He said the words very softly, but with the firm convictions of one who has considerable authority on the subject. "You should have many years, yet. If you have time to teach me new things, I would feel better to teach you as well. I do not wish to see you hurt, or worse."

Unconsciously, Lorna touched her ribs. You'd never know there was a dent there unless she was wearing a swimsuit, and since she never did, nobody but Shane knew about it. "I dunno that I'd say it was that I didn't wish to stay living," she said, thinking back on her adolescence. "More like I didn't really care if I died, which sounds a lot more dire than I actually mean it as." She couldn't help another grin. "I would love to learn, Thanadir. I've never been taught by someone who actually knows what they're doing." Shane, God love him, had been in the Army when he was younger, but he was hardly what you'd call an expert. Thanadir had said he was a warrior, which she'd suspected already. "Just don't go too easy on me because I'm so little." She knew that could be pure instinct for most people, whether they were even aware of it or not; hell, even she tended to be more careful around shorter people, despite the fact that most of them were taller than her. (She'd wondered a great deal how she'd wound up so small, given that nobody else in her immediate family was. Then she'd met Gran, and suddenly many things made sense.)

He smiled, but a measure of...sternness?...appeared that she had not thought it possible to see on his charmingly boyish face. "They are very close to the same, thing, though, are they not? I will gladly teach you, Lorna, but you will find that I am a demanding instructor. My teaching may cause you to become very angry with me. And that is much of what you must learn to control; you fight with emotion, and not proper training. And while I do not wish to damage our friendship, I will teach you as I feel I must."

Her eyebrows rose. "You mean you'll kick the shite out'v me, and tell me what I've done wrong the whole while? You'll not be the first, though I suspect you'll be much tougher than Shane was." It had been a bit difficult for her to see Thanadir as a warrior before, but it was easy enough now. "I can't promise I won't lose it," she said, with a sigh. "Whatever Thranduil did, it helped a lot, but I've got thirty-nine years'v it being ingrained into who and what I am. I'll have to learn that along with everything else - and speaking'v damaging our friendship, I ought to warn you I can cuss like a bloody sailor, and I can't promise I won't toss everything I've got when you knock me down too many times. If it helps, I'll try to keep it in Irish." She was probably dead wrong, but something in her, the part of her that thought of him as filled with wonder, had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate being called some of the things she knew. "I'm not known for giving up, though. Not when it comes to hitting things, anyway, and if I can hit them without totally getting lost in my own head…"

Lorna sighed again. "What you've got to understand, Thanadir, is that when it comes to humans, going blank like that's never failed me. I've never truly lost a fight, though I've come close a few times - you're the first person I couldn't take down, even if it also meant taking the other one down with me. It's going to be hard for me to unlearn. Overriding that...before Thranduil did whatever he did in my head, I wouldn't've thought it it even possible. It might take a bit, for me to wrap my mind around, so I can't promise I'll not give out at someone. Not yet."

The old elf replied to her earnestly. "You cannot hurt me, Lorna. I do not mean it as an insult; you do not truly understand the abilities of elves. Yet. It is not your fault. I will not be seeking to injure you. I do not have to, in order to avoid injury from you. And you will learn to face an opponent, while remaining connected to your own thoughts. I am sorry to say this, but that you have succeeded all this time has been...luck. You have the capability for more, much more. And while I have always demanded respect from others," he smiled again, now seeming beyond amused to even find himself having this conversation, "I can manage to overlook your...colorful use of words."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't land even a single hit on you," she said wryly. "You're fast people, I'll give you that - very fast. If there's any human on this planet that could match that...well, I doubt there is. And you've no idea how nice it is, to know that I really can't hurt you." She paused, not certain she wanted to share this, but there wasn't any real reason why not. "I don't think it was luck so much as a combo'v brutality and no self-preservation," she said. "Most people, when you get right into their face, hesitate to truly hurt someone. Everyone I got that close to, anyway; I don't think they'd even realized they were pulling their punches, or that they were hesitating - it was just some subconscious thing telling them there was such a thing as too far. I...didn't have that. I liked hurting people. A lot. I didn't know how bad it was, until Thranduil went into my head and did...well, whatever that even was. Now - I don't want to learn so I can go out and use it on someone, which I would've not that long ago. I just want to know, in case I've ever got to."

"And that is as it should be," he said, his features once again returned to their usual charming friendliness as they neared their destination, and opened a door. "This is the entrance to the forges."

Lorna stared. "Cac naofa," she muttered. Some hazy, dim part of her had already decided that if nobody could understand you, it wasn't really swearing.

She'd seen forges in movies, but none of them were like this. Like everything else in these caverns, they were very...elvish, meaning far more beautiful than function warranted. Multiple...stations was the only word she had...all dark now, each with a ringed fire-pit beside table and anvil, with racks of hammers and and tongs and half a dozen things she had no name for. Circular holes in the ceiling would have presumably let smoke out - but how did the fires not go out when it rained? More magic? Firewood, stacked incredibly neatly, could be found in different places around the room - how had they not burned through their forest over the years? Hell, how could they heat this place with wood and still have so many trees, given how many thousands of years they'd been here? One of these days, she ought to introduce them to peat. It smelled strongly of charcoal, but she fancied she could catch the ghostly smoke of fires long dead.

Her fingers itched to touch everything, but she kept her hands to herself. All the workstations were elf-sized, meaning tables and anvils were about level with her chest (were there no short elves? She didn't think she'd seen a single one under six foot in all the time she'd been here). Like everywhere else, the floor was unnaturally smooth to her, for all it was some kind of flagstone...how had they managed that?

Patience, probably, she thought, and turned to Thanadir. "Could I learn how to do this, too?" she asked, unable to keep the rather childlike glee from her voice. She was going to have to talk to Big Jamie when she went home and see if she couldn't start working only part-time, or else she'd never get the chance to do everything she wanted.

"Yes. Simple work can be done easily. But very detailed pieces require much more learning," he sad. "You will first learn to make nails."

Lorna held up one of her annoyingly tiny hands. "I'm good with details," she said - possibly the only up side of having frigging child hands. "I'm guess that's probably harder than it looks." Having only ever worked with machinery, she already anticipated...issues...with the hammer.

Thanadir frowned, on seeing her hands. Walking to one of the racks of tools, he brought a hammer, inspecting it first for cleanliness before handing it to her, handle first. "Hold this, please," he asked, "and tell me how heavy it is for you." He looked at her very intently. "And Lorna, you must be very honest with me; this is important."

She took it, hefting it experimentally. It was as heavy as she'd thought it would be, and while holding it wasn't much of a strain, holding it for an extended period might be. "I'm good like this," she said, giving it a shallow swing, "but actually using it'd probably be another story just yet." She had only a hazy idea how a blacksmith actually used a hammer, but just yet she was pretty sure she couldn't do it without either hurting herself or losing her grip and braining some hapless elf.

"There are hammers that weigh less and I will locate them for you. And while I have not looked yet, I am guessing there is much you could learn on the Internet about this art before we try for the first time. Everything seems to be on the Internet. If Sindarin is, smithing should also be," he opined, amused.

Lorna laughed. "True," she said. "I'll look it up, when I'm off work." She eyed the hammer before looking up at him. "Where would I find Sindarin online? I'm not half bad with languages. Maybe I could learn a bit, to get on while I'm here." So far as she knew, Thranduil and Thanadir were the only two elves that spoke any English at all.

Eyebrows arching in surprise, Thanadir clearly had not expected this, but equally was pleased to hear it. "Earlene could show you; she has found many, many places that teach the language in your own writing. I believe it would please her greatly to have someone…" he paused, searching for encouraging words,"...someone she can tell about her learning. I must be truthful, our language is difficult. But to learn simple phrases, and some words; that is not so hard. Earlene must learn far more, and though she studies much, it is slow for her."

"Having someone to practice with - someone who's learning with you - can make it a lot easier," Lorna said. "That's how I learned Russian." Her crazy cellmate, Tatiana, had had a small class going in the Activities Room. A slightly impish smile crossed her face. "You want difficult? Try Irish. We're raised speaking it, but for anyone not born to it, it's one'v the hardest languages in the world. Russian's more complex, but at least the rules are consistent - in Irish, if you pronounce the same word a different way, it's got a different meaning. Earlene said Sindarin's rules are, too, so I hope it won't take me too long to catch up to her. Make it easier if we were somewhere close to the same level."

"I am sure she would be pleased," said the elf, smiling. "My King promised me that I would not be asked to learn Irish. He has never asked something of any who serve him that he would be unwilling to face himself. He said…." as Thandir remembered, he demurred. "Perhaps I should remain silent on this, as I do not wish to cause offense toward your language," he said, sheepishly.

Lorna burst out laughing, trying and failing to smother it in her sleeve. The sound echoed through the vast, silent room. "I'm guessing," she said, through giggles, "I'm guessing he thinks it's heinous and barbaric, or something like that." One look at Thanadir's expression set her off all over again, laughing so hard a stitch stung in her side. "Sure Thanadir, I'll not be offended if you tell me. And honestly, if none'v you learn it, none'v you'll know when I swear."

Laughing, he conceded. "Then I believe what he said was, that he would lock himself in one of the prison cells for a cycle of the moon before he would learn a word of it."

Lorna only laughed harder. "Níl sé go crua," she managed. "Níl sé éasca, ach go bfhuil tú elves." It is not that hard. It's not easy, but you are elves.

Shaking his head good-naturedly (and absolutely refusing to take the bait) he gestured toward the door. "It is time to prepare for eating, and so we must return. Come, and take my arm if you wish."

Prepare for eating...oh dear. She could already tell this was not going to be fun, but she took his arm anyway, and hoped she wasn't about to make a giant fool of herself. At least neither Earlene nor Thranduil were likely to tease her about it later if she did.

On reaching his quarters and entering, he presented her with the dress he had found, and the leggings. "The King has explained to me that unlike ellith, mortal females are unaccustomed to being seen unclothed. So I will describe, and then turn my back, if that meets with your approval." He showed her which was the front, and how to put her arms through the sleeves before pulling it over her head.

Lorna was at once relieved and still rather freaked out. Fortunately, it was simple - dark green velvet with a front panel that looked like some sort of brocade (for all she knew). The skirt would hit her probably mid-shins, rather than all the way to the floor, and sleeves that wouldn't trail into anything. That took some of the stress away, but she was still afraid to even touch it, let alone wear it. "Okay," she said, half to herself, and once he'd turned she hurried out of her own clothes in record time, squirming into the dress. That it fit so very well was, she thought, a bit sad, given that it was a child's dress, but fit it did...and oh, it felt so, so weird.

It wasn't actually uncomfortable at all, but it was just so alien, and she hardly dared move in it. Would someone shout at her if she tore it somehow? Maybe. Even if they didn't, she'd just bet she'd get the sad kitty eyes. She hadn't even actually seen him make them, but she was entirely certain he could.

Her boots wouldn't look right, so she just pulled off her socks and went barefoot, carding her fingers through her hair. Despite having slept on it wet, it wasn't a complete disaster - thank you, elf shampoo - though as always, when she left it down it appeared to be trying to eat her. At least she knew how to keep it out of her food when she ate.

"All right," she said. "I think I'm as good as I'm gonna get."

Thanadir turned and immediately his face lit up to see her. "The laces in front should be adjusted, would you allow me?" He waited for her terse nod before moving to do so, drawing in the strings a little more snugly. Standing, he stepped back to look at her with a critical eye. "I sense that you are not used to this, and I have no wish to cause you discomfort. But if you would like it, I am able to braid your hair in a manner that would perhaps leave it more….manageable, for you."

"You're right enough there, I'm not used to it," she said, wondering if she looked as stupid as she felt. "If you wouldn't mind getting it out'v my face somehow, I'd appreciate it." Nobody but her had braided her hair since Gran died, but she trusted him. All elves seemed to have long hair; he wasn't going to screw it up.

Pleased, the seneschal swiftly procured a comb and set to work, parting her hair in the middle and while not pulling it too tightly, installed on each side of her head what began as a French braid and morphed into a waterfall braid, anchoring the pattern with the use of one much thinner braid that trailed most of the way down. An extremely thin and inconspicuous piece of ribbon secured the end in place. "I hope you can forgive me for saying so, but your appearance is lovely, Lorna. The young one who left this dress behind would be pleased to know that it is once again being worn."

Now she felt about six thousand shades of awkward. Strangely, her bullshit detector wasn't going off - either he actually meant it, or he was a fantastically adept liar. "Oh, hush," she said - awkwardly, naturally. "You've got to teach me how to do these braids, though. With all this, it's usually in a braid, and I'm always open to learning more kinds." This would probably be the part where an ordinary person turned utterly red, but she still apparently wasn't capable of that.

"I will add it to the list", he said with good humor. Apparently he wished to upgrade his own clothing, and for a nervous moment Lorna prayed he was not about to undress in front of her...but he only removed and hung up his outer garment, exchanging it for one that was embroidered, more elaborate. She had only ever seen him in muted forest colors such as dark browns and greens, but this was a delicately embroidered coat of burgundy red, with gold threads that seemed intended to depict trees in wintertime. "If you will follow me, we are to meet the King and Earlene beforehand." Opening the door for her, he waited for her to exit. As the other quarters were apparently not very far distant, it took less than a minute's walk to arrive. Thanadir knocked twice, softly, and then entered without waiting for a response, as if it were a predetermined message that had been in use since before the invention of buttons. Once inside, she saw Thranduil dressed regally, Earlene dressed very nicely, and both of them quite obviously trying to keep expressions of complete astonishment at bay. "Your Excellency Thanadir, Lorna," Earlene said, by way of greeting them.

Don't laugh, Lorna thought sourly. She was trying very hard to move like something other than a very jerky marionnette, but she remained afraid she'd somehow ruin the dress if she sneezed. The stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but that was actually welcome, since it distracted her from the fact that yes, she was in a dress. _I never want to do this again. Ever._

 _Lorna_ , she heard from Thranduil, who smiled kindly. _You look lovely. Perhaps you also need to hear, that elves do not lie. And you need not worry about the dress; should tragedy somehow befall it, I am fairly certain there are a thousand more in various wardrobes in these Halls. Pretend they are your trousers, and move and walk as you wish. I have a vivid memory of the elleth who wore that dress cartwheeling through the dining hall, much to the dismay of her parents, so clearly the garment can survive some exuberance. I thank you, that you would honor us by consenting to dress as we do._

Elves didn't lie, huh? Well...there was food for thought. What sort of thought, she wasn't yet sure. _I'll try not to ruin it anyway_ , she said. _I'm not used to pretty clothing. Please, for God's sake, tell me you don't want me to dress like this every time I come here - I feel like an alien_. She was glad that she'd gone with Thanadir's suggestion, and not turned up in her ordinary clothes, but she didn't feel like herself in such a beautiful thing. She wasn't an elf, and she wasn't like Earlene, who could carry off lovely clothes like a model. _I didn't want Thanadir to give me the sad kitty eyes. I know he's capable'v them. I just know it._

If such a thing as mental laughter was possible, she was fairly certain she was hearing it now.

 _I would not require it of you just as I do not require it of you now, Lorna, but I still appreciate your willingness to indulge us. Tonight is a special occasion; I would guess that most times you visit will not be. Though perhaps, when we are all elsewhere, I may choose to be a little bit awful and challenge you as to just why you feel like an….alien, for wearing a dress. As for Thanadir, you will be surprised, at the range of what he is capable._ Lorna thought she detected a slight smirk on Thranduil's face, but she had no time to consider it as they were all suddenly moving out the door, finding themselves in short order at this Dining Hall.

Thanadir preceded them, approaching a private dining table, ringing a handbell. Those below (Lorna quickly realized that all the other diners were on another level, whereas they were on something that looked like a balcony) fell silent immediately. Thanadir bowed deeply to Thranduil, backing away. Thranduil smiled, and spoke; this was the first time Lorna heard their silky and completely indecipherable language spoken clearly and at any length. She saw that when he finished (completely approving that he knew how to give short speeches), all the other elves held their hands over their hearts. Earlene nudged her gently as she made the same gesture, and Lorna quickly imitated, having no idea in hell what any of it meant. And then, Thanadir ushered her to a seat to the right of Earlene, taking his own place next to her; Thranduil sat on Earlene's left. Once again, she heard Thranduil.

 _If you imitate Thanadir or Earlene, you will be fine, Lorna. We have no peculiar table manners or rituals. I only ask that no food be thrown; if you can manage that, you will have improved on many a Feast Day._

Lorna managed not to laugh...barely. It took biting the inside of her cheek to keep it all in, but at least it worked. Imitation she could do. _Gran did thump a few manners into my thick head_ , she assured him. Most'v them stayed put. It helped immensely that both hair and sleeves were well out of the way.

Three male elves arrived soon, bearing assorted platters, pitchers, and covered baskets of food, before hurriedly retreating.

 _It is equally customary that male elves serve the females what they wish to eat, or that each one helps themselves. You may choose from what is in front of you, or tell Thanadir what you wish to have._ An array of buttered rolls, cooked vegetables, a lentil stew (possibly with some meat in it?) and a smaller plate of what looked remarkably like tiny, individual fruitcakes was shifted around on the table.

Earlene leaned over, and spoke quietly in her ear. "All I can tell you is, I'm probably a few meals ahead of you, quota-wise, and no matter what it looks like, their food is to die for."

Lorna found the idea of being served way too weird, but gave Thanadir a slightly helpless smile as she took a little bit of everything, steadfastly ignoring her Gran's voice at the back of her mind, telling her not to be greedy. She'd gone hungry too often in her early life to be anything but greedy when it came to food, especially good food. "I can't say I'm surprised," she whispered back. "I don't think there's a single thing they do badly. It'd be easy to get spoiled in here." Superior food, superior shampoo…she wondered if the elves would be willing to translate and publish a cookbook, or if part of what made it all so good was the ingredients.

"Did you have a nice afternoon, or did you sleep through?" Earlene asked. "I was jealous, of the nap. Learning their language is like mountain climbing. With a weighted backpack, and no oxygen," she joked.

"Bit'v both," Lorna said. "I slept most'v the afternoon away, but when I woke up, Thanadir took me to see the forge. There's a forge," she said, trying and failing to stifle a grin. "I'd only actually seen one in movies. And actually, I was talking to him about this - I'd like to learn their language myself, and I'd love it if I could study alongside you. I've got a lot'v catch-up to do, mind you, but I could get there eventually." It couldn't be harder than Russian, could it? Christ, she hoped not. She hesitated, wondering if Earlene would doubt her ability to manage such a thing, so she said, "I've got four languages - I can handle one more. Hopefully." Yes, her Welsh was shite, and so was her Russian, but they were still there. She could drag them out of the closet, even if far from perfectly.

"You mean you want to join me in Hell?" she teased. "Offer accepted! Though, to be truthful, I'm just venting. I'd been doing well, I thought, but then I hit a snag...there were not enough things to read aloud, or practice with. So Thanadir insisted I backtrack and learn their letters and...let's just say that my mind is resisting it. But I know I'll get there, and he's been loads of help already. Tomorrow morning I'm going back to the cottage, where I can at least slog away over tea with alcohol in it. If you are actually serious, I can email you the bookmarks I have. I love it here but...no wifi."

That was something Lorna could actually relate to quite well, though she wasn't about to say so (or why). "I'd love it if you'd send me some," she said. "I won't have time to look at it all until evening - I've got work tomorrow at eleven, because Mick refuses to get up before eight unless there's a job waiting. I've finally got just about everything actually clean, so he'd best not let it go to hell again once I've gone." She paused. "I wonder if it'd be possible to get wifi in here somehow? I don't know a damn thing about that sort'v stuff, and maybe the magic would interfere with it...I still can't believe that's a sentence I'm saying." She shook her head, unable to help a smile.

Earlene frowned. "The thing I worried about is...location. It is huge to them, that these Halls be...un-findable. I'm not a cyber-whiz, but I thought things like wifi gave off signals that could be detected electronically. While I would love it to death, my fear is that it's out of the question...anywhere, that is, except at my cottage. Not to mention, there is the small issue of electricity, or the lack thereof. And yes," she chuckled, eyeing her, "the magic could play hell with it, too. I've already seen it play hell with some of the other things that I thought were Laws of Physics, so no reason to think a modem would be any exception."

"You might well be right," Lorna said, buttering a roll. "I'm not one, either, but if it's got a signal, I suppose it's traceable. I just...I've seen magic now, I know it exists, but part'v me still...rebels, I supposed. Every time I get used to one thing, there's something new. I'm sure these halls could keep surprising me for the rest'v my bloody life - and my family lives a long time," she added, with a quiet laugh. "Is it that odd for you? I know you found out about the whole thing, er, differently than I did, but was it completely weird at first?"

Her brows furrowed in concentration, she reflected. "No, and yes. I tend to think a lot like a….flow chart." When she thought she detected from a passing flicker in Lorna's eyes that a flow chart might not be something familiar, Earlene elaborated in a way she hoped did not seem condescending. "Those are diagrams, that can be used to show the order in which a person reaches a decision about something. For me, it was weird only in the moment when I had to finally confront that I had been completely wrong about the existence of things that were outside of my experience. But once I had accepted that, everything else was just...odd and strange. Once my bubble was burst, I was ready to accept anything. At least, anything having to do with elves. And then rather than be weird it was more like...too many things that I had no way of knowing. I am sure there are still many tidbits of which I am not aware...but with time, them, and the Internet, I'll have a grasp sooner or later. Now, you want completely weird? Completely weird is that everything about them is on the web. Their history, their language, those books, those movies...I can cope with magic and enchantments and telepathy better than any of that, quite honestly."

The delicious meal was concluded, and when Thranduil saw that all of them had eaten their fill, he rose, as did Thanadir; each of them respectively pulled the chairs back for Earlene and Lorna. Once they were out of the Dining Hall, Thranduil spoke. "Lorna, it is late; outside it is nighttime. It would please me very much if you would allow Thanadir to show you to your rooms, so that you may sleep here. After an early breakfast, we will return to Earlene's cottage. Though if it is your wish, Thanadir will see you back through the woods after you have changed your clothing."

"Er...thanks," she said, too startled to be any more eloquent. Sooner or later all this generosity would cease to surprise her, but it probably wasn't going to be any time soon. "Seriously." She might not be able to express her gratitude like a normal person, but he'd pick it up. Not so long ago, the telepathy thing had freaked her right the hell out, but by now she found it useful: she was terrible at using her words, and with this handy thing, she didn't have to.

It took very little time for Thanadir to retrieve Lorna's clothing, and he cleverly concealed that there was yet another garment underneath them. Guiding her through more passages and tunnels, he opened this door for her as well, and showed her inside. "The King has instructed, Lorna, that whenever you choose to stay with us, these rooms are to be yours. If anything is not to your liking, you are to please tell me." While not so large as Thanadir's, nor so opulent as Thranduil's, this room easily qualified as the nicest place she had ever been told to call her own. He showed her through the first room, which held a beautiful carven table and chairs at which to sit, a couch, wall hangings, cushions in abundance, and a small fireplace which had clearly been tended awhile ago, as it had burned down considerably while leaving the room pleasantly warm. A mysterious array of stoppered bottles was on the table, each labeled with string and a tag of some kind around the neck, and numerous small objects and decorations were scattered all around. The next room was a luxurious bedroom; a four poster bed was covered with a heavy counterpane of emerald green, embroidered with trees in silver thread. A fireplace was lit in here as well, plus a large cushioned chair near the hearth, plush rugs, small tables on either side of the rather large bed (one holding an exquisite comb, hairbrush, and mirror), and a wardrobe. Thanadir showed her also, that behind yet another door was apparently the toilet.

"Everything in these rooms belongs to you, Lorna, by the King's wish," he said, placing her shirt and jeans on the bed, as well as the other garment...the night clothes he had been altering using her gran's sewing machine. "Tomorrow morning, an elleth will come to this room to tend the fireplace, perhaps an hour before it is time to eat. If you close the curtains on your bed, she will not disturb you. If you leave them parted, she will wake you before she leaves. And if you have no questions, I will wish you a pleasant rest. I will come for you, before the morning meal."

As Gran would have said, she was being presented with a feast of fat things, and just now she had no idea what to do with any of them. "I...thank you," she said, cursing her inability to expression emotion like a normal person. "I mean it. You lot haven't got to do this - any'v it - and...oh, hell. I'm shite at talking, but nobody's ever done anything this nice for me in my entire bloody life." Gran and Mairead had certainly tried, but she suspected there was an amount of understanding behind this that neither of them possessed.

When Thanadir left, she prowled the room, investigating the glass bottles - she was both amused and pleased to find they contained the shampoo and conditioner she loved so much, as well as something she suspected was a smoothing balm of some kind.

The pyjamas on the bed cinched it. The nightgown was by far the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned - Thranduil had said elves didn't lie, so she assumed this too was hers while she was here. Christ, she was such a sap. It looked like it would actually fit, too, which was novel; most things she owned were too big to varying degrees (she refused to shop in the children's section, goddammit).

Much as she didn't want to take her hair out of those lovely braids, she knew sleeping on them would be a terrible idea, so she sat in front of the mirror and slowly unraveled them, carefully laying the combs on the table.

Where the hell was all of this coming from? It was so far beyond what any reasonable employee could expect that it was ridiculous. Hell, hadn't Thranduil told her, not long ago, that there was a lot she wasn't going to be able to know without swearing fealty? She'd been perfectly all right with it, figuring it was only fair that the elves keep their secrets from someone determined to stay a free agent, so to speak - so why was she here now? Why let her into the heart of their home? True, she wouldn't be able to find her way here again on her own even without the enchantments, but still. Why was she the lone outsider - possibly the lone outsider ever, according to Thranduil?

The truly weird thing was that she didn't think there was any ulterior motive here. Whatever the reason she was being given all of this, she was sure it wasn't any kind of bribery - the elves and Earlene would probably be highly insulted by the mere notion. For whatever reason, they seemed to actually want to do this...she just wished she could understand why.

Thranduil didn't seem the sort to pity anyone - a good thing, since she'd have resented the hell out of it - but there was a great deal of sympathy in him. Maybe he saw more of himself in her than she'd thought, and wanted to give her what he hadn't had when he was younger - he'd said he had Thanadir's support, but unlike her, he'd had the responsibility of a kingdom weighing on his shoulders. He'd had to save a certain amount of face, and God knew that had never been a consideration she'd had to deal with.

How strange it was, having that one thing unfortunately very much in common, even though they were otherwise vastly different people. And Earlene, she had to be in on this, too; on many levels, she and Lorna were very different as well, but they both knew what it was to love, and to lose everything in the entire world that mattered to you. Some commonalities transcended life experience. Earlene's had been better, more comprehensive, but Lorna found she wasn't envious of it. Neither of them could help the circumstances they were born into, and Earlene had made the most of hers. (Lorna had made the most of hers, too, except that wasn't exactly a good thing.)

Earlene wouldn't fault Lorna for her own ignorance - because quite honestly, Lorna was ignorant in a great many ways - but it was still something to be hidden. That Earlene wouldn't judge her for it made it no less embarrassing, but it wasn't like she didn't have access to a library, even if she didn't have a great deal of time to read most days. Just because she was ignorant didn't mean she had to stay that way.

The fact that these three people - people she'd come to like so much, though she'd only known them a handful of days - the fact that they were so kind to her, even though she'd as yet done little for them...she'd known precious little of that in her life. Before now, only Mairead and Gran had accepted her without question, but they were Irish and her family, so that wasn't precisely unexpected. Two elves and a lawyer (there was a joke in there somewhere, she was sure, though it wouldn't make anywhere near as good a band name as Earlene and the elves) who hadn't known her from Adam less than a fortnight ago...yeah, she was actually glad of Thranduil's telepathy, because Christ knew she couldn't properly express gratitude in words.

She changed into her lovely nightgown, crawling under the blankets. Her mattress was criminally soft, and she knew what she was going to do whenever she got paid: get a proper bed for her cottage. This one made her realize exactly what she'd been missing all these years.

After Thranduil helped Earlene out of her dress, she crawled gratefully into the heated bed. _How does he do that?_ Though, a part of her did not wish to know; it was more fun to assume it was magical. Curling up against the soft pillows, she regarded her husband as he undressed, still wondering on some level how she had managed to end up...here. With him. Smiling, she shook her head. If these were her thoughts now, she wondered what sort of day poor Lorna had just had.

Thranduil looked up, with mirth in his eyes, before his expression softened.

"Meluieg, I wish to commend you. I know that you are not blind, and that you can see I have gone far beyond your advice to me and taken an interest in Lorna which must seem inexplicable, and even unfair, on many levels. She has been granted that for which I required your last freedom, before giving the same to you. And yet I have not heard even a passing thought of resentment, though I very much would have understood. I confess," he said, looking directly at her, "I expected it, and was deeply surprised when it did not occur."

Earlene smirked, but only a little. "I have had many advantages in this life, Thranduil. It would be blatantly wrong of me, to have been given so much, and begrudge another who has had so little. While I cannot see Lorna as you must, we surely are not much alike, inside of ourselves. Nor do we need to be, for her to be my friend, and yours. I know that I have your love as my mate, and as my King, and it is more than enough for me. I expect to have to share you, because of who you are. And if, as I suspect, you are helping Lorna, then I am grateful to you as well, for you can do what I cannot. She deserves better, than what she has had...by far. Maybe, for the first time in her life, she has a genuine opportunity of her own, and that opportunity is...elves."

Dimming and extinguishing assorted lights, he joined her in bed, drawing her to him, enveloping her in his blissful warmth. "You are not wrong, in any of your observations. And yet," he teased, "you do not share me in every way. Some things belong to you alone."

As she reached up with her hand to caress the sensitive tips of his ears, her thoughts came through with unusual clarity. _Suddenly my mortal mind has become quite forgetful, my Lord. What are these things, to which you refer?_

With a hearty laugh, the Elvenking was only too happy to remind her.


	22. Chapter 22

Lorna woke the next morning to the quiet sounds of a fire being built.

She couldn't identify them at first, and for a moment was entirely disoriented, registering only that she was on an insanely comfortable bed. Memory hit a moment later, and she opened her eyes, staring at the canopy. One thing was for certain: she had to buy a new bed for her cottage. After this one, she could never go back to the old mattress.

She sat up to find an elf lady expertly rekindling the fire, with the ease of one who had done this a thousand times before. Despite knowing the woman - elf - wouldn't understand her, she said, "Good morning." The sentiment was universal, even if the words differed.

The lady rose and gave her a bow before leaving, which, okay, that was weird, and Lorna didn't like it at all. It was one thing to see elves bow when she was walking with Thranduil or Thanadir, but having it done to her alone made her extremely uncomfortable, and she'd have to talk to Thranduil about it. He'd probably say something about her being a guest or whatever, but he'd also know just how uncomfortable it made her, so hopefully he'd humor her.

She had to hop a little go get off the bed, the stone floor chilly beneath her bare feet, though the room was rather warmer than she would have expected given that the fire had gone out at some point during the night. Now that she was properly awake, she examined the nightgown Thanadir had given her: it was a beautiful piece of clothing, easily the nicest thing she had ever - off-white, with a touch of lace overlaying it on the sleeves and down to her waist, but far softer than any lace she'd ever seen; the stuff Gran had used had always been starched and scratchy. The sleeves were three-quarter length - a good thing, since they had slight bells at the elbows, and she might well have suffocated herself with something longer. She couldn't identify the material, but it was soft and warm, and it fit so well she wondered if he'd somehow measured her clothes for reference. That should probably have been creepy, but instead it was weirdly endearing. It was a thing substantial enough that she could wear it around other people and not feel embarrassingly underdressed; even though it was white, it was entirely opaque, so she wouldn't need to worry about her Star Trek knickers showing. (Yes, she had Star Trek knickers. Whatever, they'd been on sale, and it wasn't her fault the Enterprise was the coolest spaceship out there.)

Lorna padded to the dressing table, which reminded her of a much fancier version of Gran's. She couldn't quite get over the wonder the elf hair products had done to her hair; it had never been this soft, nor this smooth, and the grey strands really had gone something like silver. Was there a way to give some of this to Mairead, for her work? Would the elves allow her to share it with anyone in the outside world? Yet another thing to ask. While they probably had more money than all of Ireland at least twice over, having legitimate sources of income might make Earlene's job a bit easier. It would certainly make having large amounts of money in her bank accounts look less odd.

Lorna ran her fingers through her hair, and eyed her reflection. Thranduil had asked her why she felt like an alien in a dress, and the answer was quite simple. She was attractive enough, in her own odd, slightly weathered way, but it was just that: _her_ way. She wasn't Earlene - she wasn't built for beautiful elf clothing, or beautiful clothing in general. It made her awkward and ungainly, and she wasn't the most graceful of creatures to begin with, unless she was attacking something. Liam had once told her she was meant to be wild, and she believed him. Putting on such beauty felt like putting on a mask, and she hoped Thranduil could understand that. Bettering herself was one thing, and a very good one; changing everything about who she was, was not. She wasn't truly like them, and she was never going to be, but she was just fine with that. They were giving her such great opportunity to improve herself, and she knew they'd do their best to help guide her through it, but they needed to understand that at her core, she wasn't ashamed of being what she was. She wanted to learn, to move beyond her past, but she didn't want to ignore it.

Normally she didn't like wearing the same clothes two days in a row, but putting hers on now were a relief. She very carefully folded the beautiful nightgown, laying it over the back of a chair while she tried and utterly failed to make her bed - wrestling with such a large mattress was beyond her. Having such lovely sleepwear here seemed only fitting, and she'd thank Thanadir when she saw him, but it was going to stay here lest she ruin it at home. Once she'd combed and braided her hair, she took her impromptu handbag and headed out in search of the dining hall.

She'd thought to print two copies of all the paperwork Niamh had sent her, one for the elves and one for Earlene, in case she wanted to take one to her cottage. Lorna knew Thranduil and Thanadir both read the Roman alphabet, but Earlene was the only one who would be able to decipher the full extent of the legal-ese.

Thanadir found her, quite close to the dining hall and was suitably impressed. "Good morning, Lorna. I came to find you. I am not certain the King mentioned that breakfast was in his and Earlene's rooms. We can go there now?"

If he had, she didn't remember it. "Good morning," she said. "I don't know that I'd be able to find the way there on my own." She wasn't kidding; after how much she'd drunk last night, she doubted she'd know how to make it anywhere but the dining hall. "Thank you for the nightgown. It's the prettiest thing I've ever had."

"You are welcome," he said in his endearingly odd monotone. That was when it occurred to her...when he spoke English, he didn't inflect many of his words, making them sound like an unending, even cadence. Then again, that he spoke English at all was pretty damn impressive, making it hard to want to mention something that petty….and as she followed him through the rabbit warren, they were at Thranduil's door soon enough. He waved her inside to see the table laid and Thranduil and Earlene sitting near the fire, talking about something that didn't seem terribly important to either of them.

"Good morning, Lorna," Earlene said. "It's more porridge today, but wait until you taste it." Though truth be told, Earlene was looking forward to cooking a few meals at her own home...she liked fresh dairy products a little too much, she now realized, and the lack of cream, butter and cheese here was wearying, however delicious the oats were.

"Good morning," Lorna said, unslinging her bag from her shoulder. "I can't argue with porridge. Reminds me'v Gran. I've tried making it myself, but it never comes out right." She dug the paperwork, mercifully uncrumpled, out of her bag, setting it on an end-table. "I've got that for after we've eaten. I think it's pretty straightforward, but I've no background to be able to know otherwise. Fortunately, you'll not need any genetic testing - just a basic physical. You don't look enough alike to be brothers, but maybe half-brothers - it's best to say you're related, I think, because even when I thought you were both human, you still...stood out." She and Mairead didn't look a damn thing alike; it was plausible Thranduil and Thanadir could be half-siblings. And the elves...yeah, she hadn't believed for a moment that they weren't human, and she didn't believe anyone outside the village would, either, but they'd certainly seemed different.

She cast a glance at Thranduil, not wanting to bother anyone else with this. _Can you please do me a favor and tell people not to bow to me if I'm not with you or Thanadir? It weirds me out._

Smiling, Thranduil regarded her. _I can try, Lorna. But you must realize that it is our custom to bow to each other in acknowledgement, regardless of station. They may find it hard to do otherwise….it is not only done to me on account of being King, though that is most of what you would have seen in your brief time here._ Aloud, he asked, "that seems well enough. This…'physical,' this is something involving a human healer?"

Earlene chimed in. "Yes. Sometimes it is as simple as listening to your heartbeat and breathing, looking at your eyes and ears, taking your temperature and blood pressure...which makes me wonder what those are, on an elf? Maybe we should find out at the chemist's before we learn otherwise at an exam like that. Other times it can involve a visual inspection of your fully unclothed body...I wonder if there is a discreet way of asking about that." Nudging the forms closer to herself, she began to glance at what was written, but then realized politeness dictated waiting until after they'd eaten. Which Thranduil seemed to feel they should do, and right away.

He must have been eager to attend to business, because no sooner was Thanadir clearing away the dishes than he began to line up his handful of gems in front of Lorna. "I believe such as this are what you wished to photograph for your...acquaintance?" He had selected about thirty different choices. All were cut, all were faceted; the smallest one was at least two carats. Some ranged up to what appeared to be eight to ten carats, and they all seemed to be from among the costlier choices such as diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies. "There are larger, and there are smaller, of all of these. And more. But Earlene has indicated that these are more common than...some others.

Lorna's eyes widened. "Jesus bloody Christ," she said. It boggled her mind, how he could regard all the beautiful gems so casually...yeah, she knew he was a king, so logically it made sense, but still. "This is pretty much exactly what I was thinking," she said, fishing her phone out of her shirt pocket. "Shane, he won't ask why, but he might want to know how old some'v them are, for appraisal reasons...d'you want me to lie? Only if some'v these are as old as I'm guessing, he'd not believe the truth." She shook her head. "You know, I'd been thinking you lot could make a fortune off those hair products, but I don't think you need to bother. I mean...damn."

Thranduil frowned, while managing to ignore the comment on hair products...it was a legitimate question. "Age…" he said. "On one hand, there is no means by which to determine such a thing as they are minerals, and you are correct; he would not believe the truth. Perhaps if you simply said that they have been a long time in the family of the seller, that would suffice? And that it is a very old family? I can see how over time, it would become quite the topic of speculation as to how one source has...so much."

Lorna pondered this a moment. "I could safely say they were three or four hundred years old," she said meditatively. "Four hundred would make sense, and though I wouldn't have to actually say much to Shane, he'd draw his own conclusions - the seventeenth century was the Golden Age of Piracy. He'd probably assume I'd found an ancient pirate family, though he'd never actually ask." Thought of anyone assuming the elves were pirates was bloody hysterical. It would mean he wouldn't question where all of this was coming from, at the very least.

Chuckling, Thranduil nodded. "I am pleased you like our...hair products. Thanadir could likely also school you in their manufacture but...there is a certain element of grace that our people lend to anything they create that makes exact duplication by other races impossible. And, while this will annoy you tremendously, I have a gift for you. I will tell you the same thing I have told Earlene. Lovely things do no good, shut away in the dark, which is why some items need to see the light of day. This is yours, now. Partly in appreciation for your help, and partly...because." In front of her, he laid the pretty necklace he had chosen for her on the tablecloth, looking forward to engendering what he was certain would be an unprecedented state of mental discombobulation on the part of the diminutive Irishwoman.

It took Lorna a moment to register what exactly had been set in front of her. The interlocking chain of leaves and flowers, the little emeralds winking in the light… "Christ, you're...Thranduil, I can't take this. It's gorgeous, it's ancient, and it's probably worth more than my soul. I just - you want to just give that to me?" Why? She hesitated to even touch it; yeah, if it was elf jewelry it was probably bomb-proof, for all it appeared so delicate, but...oh, hell. She was never going to get used to elves, if they could pass out something so beautiful so casually. People didn't give something like that to someone like her. That just wasn't how the world worked.

 _The world is a strange place, Lorna_ , she heard in her mind as he brought it around her neck and clasped it shut. All, somehow, without feeling like he ever touched her, or her hair, which was just….weird. Elves.

"That looks lovely," said Thanadir, approvingly, while she saw Earlene nodding and smiling as well.

"It's perfect on you, if you want my two cents," said Earlene, "and I've had to rent a lot of jewelry in my life. It matches your eyes."

"You need not fear for it, Lorna. Short of great effort on your part in Thanadir's forging lessons, it would be difficult at best to damage. It has survived worse than you." He declined to mention it was part of the hoard of Erebor, and had probably spent some of its existence being stomped on by Smaug himself. "And yes, I do want to just give it to you. As I said, these things do no good shut away in the dark. Now," he said, changing the subject, "it would appear that there is paperwork to examine, studying, and other matters to settle over the use of computers. If all is concluded here, shall we?" He gestured toward the door.

Lorna looked at Thanadir, and at Earlene, and touched the necklace. These people were going to be the bloody death of her, with the way they regarded some things. She was pretty sure that wasn't going to change, so she had to try to accustom herself to it, but...she didn't have a lot of faith in that. Not with the way she and everyone around her had always lived; Mairead's family was solidly middle-class, but nowhere near wealthy, and most of the people in Baile were somewhere in that bracket. Lorna herself wasn't as broke as she looked; she had a little over a thousand euros in savings, which to her seemed a downright extravagant amount. To these three, it must seem like pocket change - for Earlene seemed pretty accustomed to having nicer things around, and Lorna was pretty sure American lawyers weren't exactly poor. Not if they were successful, anyway, which it sounded like Earlene had been. "Why not?" she asked, snapping a few more pictures of the jewels. Shane might well shit a brick when she asked him to deal with all of this, but once she assured him nobody was going to come after him over it, he'd be fine...and she really, really liked the idea of letting him infer that the elves were actually an ancient pirate family. She knew him well enough to know he totally would.

Once she had as many as she needed, she stuffed the phone back in her pocket and followed Thanadir, lightly touching her necklace. It had to look fairly ludicrous when contrasted with the rest of her gently shabby clothing, and she hoped Thranduil wouldn't be offended if she left it in the forest - with Earlene, if not here. Wearing it around Lasg'len or Baile would raise way too many questions she couldn't yet answer. If the people of Lasg'len knew the elves were handing her priceless jewelry just... _because_ , her life would become very awkward, and she liked most of them too well to want to have to continually tell them to fuck off. She could explain last night's absence by saying she'd fallen into a food coma on Earlene's couch, at least, but she couldn't do that too many more times while she was still working in the village, or it would start to look weird. The villagers already weren't sure just what sort of connection she had with the elves - fair enough, since she wasn't, either - but she didn't want them getting...suspicious, or whatever. If they were ever to find out that she'd been allowed to see the elves' home before the rest of them...well, it was good they'd never know. They liked her well enough, but she was still an outsider, and by any sane human logic she shouldn't be the first Irish person to see just what the elves had going on. Earlene was different - she'd started off an exotic foreigner, so it was only natural she'd know about everything going on around her house, but Lorna was just...Lorna. There was no reason, aside from these three's inexplicable interest, that she ought to have been first. And yes, there were people in Lasg'len who would resent that. She wouldn't blame them, either.

As Thanadir led the way out of the Halls, had Earlene been looking up enough, she would have seen an endless play of fascination and humor on her husband's fair face, as he tried to follow the twisting rollercoaster that was Lorna's mind. As he gave way to his own reflections, it occurred to him that he could not recall the last time he ever cared that much about anyone's opinion, except perhaps Thanadir's, to the extent that Lorna was evaluating the probable judgements of others. It was perhaps a lesson in the complexities of human society, that she weighed the perceptions of her peers along a hierarchical set of guidelines that obviously mattered very much to her. It was as if the mortals had an unspoken language, of interconnectedness. While each was autonomous, they were much like….ants. They had roles, and territories, and...it was an amazing thing he was not certain he wished to fully understand; that he had loyal humans around him to manage these issues was enough. Within reason. No ruler had the luxury of abdicating everything to the judgement of another. And yet this was all new for Lorna, and would need time to settle. And he would have to recall, for now, that the tiny tiara in his vault would need to remain out of the question...it was all he could do not to snicker at what the look on her face for that would be.

Earlene was already deep in thought, creating unwritten to-do lists for the day, sifting potential recipes, and noting things to buy at the grocery. And wondering if later, any of the promised changes in furnishings for the home might occur, especially the table and chairs, and a different couch. And more studying, legal work and….Thranduil's eyebrows arched, at the river swelling to life that was his wife's stream of thoughts. He was feeling unstoppably mischievous today, though he would admit it to no one.

"Meluieg, I thought we might watch Star Trek this morning," he said, quashing his laughter as he heard her thoughts colliding and derailing as she tried to factor this notion into the pattern of plans she had been making. And just when she had almost succeeded, he added in "or not, if it does not suit you." A polite throat clearing from his seneschal brought him back from his amusements, as he saw that particular look from the old elf that indicated his games were not entirely hidden from sight. Chuckling, he desisted. He had to be allowed _some_ fun, he smiled, but Thanadir seemed to disagree that tormenting the mortals was a suitable activity. Quickly enough, they had all reached Earlene's cottage, and each of them set about caring for some chore like starting the wood stove, boiling water, or...what have you.

Elves were pretty hard to read, but that little throat-clearing told Lorna there was something going on unheard-of by her, and she'd just bet Thranduil was thinking something snarky. Thanadir was older, for all he didn't look it; Lorna wouldn't be at all surprised if there was some kind of telepathic scolding going on. The thought made her have to swallow a laugh, though Thranduil would know of it anyway. The thing she'd already decided was that she could at least keep the bizarre shit she thought unvoiced, so that everyone but him would be spared the random thoughts that rolled through her head. Given that he seemed to find them entertaining, she couldn't feel too bad about it.

The stove was rather like Gran's, so she split some kindling before building a fire, cursing the fact that Earlene, not being the size of a ten-year-old, had an actual full-sized axe. Gran had always warned her that she'd cut her foot off one day flailing with one, but that wouldn't be today, fortunately. She'd die of embarrassment if she lopped her own limbs off in front of the elves. Earlene wouldn't laugh at her if she did, but she wasn't convinced they wouldn't, even if they only did it on the inside.

Looking at Earlene's cottage made Lorna think that she really ought to make some improvements on her own. It was beautifully well-built, but it was also a hundred and fifty years old, and hadn't seen any real work since the 1940's, when Gran inherited it. Once she got home to Baile...dammit, these three were making her actually think about her own surroundings. They were rubbing off on her.

Thanadir watched Lorna use the axe with a critical eye, and shook his head. "Lorna, there is a skill you will also need for work at the forge. Do you see how you are bringing down the axe head? You are using too much of your own strength and not enough of gravity to do the work for you. You will tire, and perhaps slip. It will be the same with the hammer. You should try to use the tool in such a way as to minimize the motions of your muscles. Do you understand?" he asked, nicely.

Lorna eyed the axe, and her little pile of wood. Her modus operandi all her life had been to just hit things as hard as she could - which, really, said a lot about her. "I think so, but could you show me?" Granted, she'd have to work out how to mimic him when she was over a foot shorter, but at least she'd have a visual reference.

Taking the tool from her, the elf stood off to the side a bit; he worked right-handed. He held the end of the handle in his left hand, but used his right to slide his hand up the shaft toward the axe head as he brought it up in an arcing motion; reversing this motion once the axe head was falling toward the piece of wood. If he was using any effort to smash the tool down onto the wood, she could not see it; he appeared to just let it fall where he wanted it to….and it looked like no work whatsoever. He repeated his action slowly, three times, so that she could watch, before returning the axe to her. "It will not be as easy for you because you should be using a smaller tool," he said. "But you still can use this one, letting it work for you. Expect this to feel strange, at first. And keep the wood on the side of your body that you swing on; you should be opposite of how I was."

Lorna watched him carefully, mentally translating the action to something suited for a southpaw. Her first attempt was...well, the less said of it, the better, but she got the hang of it when she tried again. The axe remained a bit unwieldy, but it was so large that an element of that was unavoidable. The rest of it, however - damn. She wished someone had taught her this years ago; Gran had chopped wood just like she had, so she'd not known there was any other way. "Is it the same idea with hammers in a forge?" she asked, warming up to the task now. It definitely grew easier with practice, though it would probably take a bit to truly master. She probably looked like an idiot trying this, given that the axe was about three-quarters as long as she was tall, but oh well. When one was this short, one was used to looking a bit absurd.

"Yes. In the sense that, it will be important to direct the hammer as it falls instead of banging away at the metal. You will only have one hand for the hammer; usually the other is holding your piece with tongs or...something. But the swing must be the same. And, you are doing well, like that."

Lorna eyed both her hands, trying to picture swinging something like the hammer she'd held with one hand. If she didn't try it like this, she'd probably wear herself out in a hurry; she might anyway, since it would be using muscles she didn't normally use. "I'll probably want to practice with a cold forge, first," she said, nightmare visions of somehow managing to burn the shit out of Thanadir dancing through her head. Yeah, he was an elf, and she probably couldn't hurt him even by accident, but with her luck...well, one never knew.

Once she had a nice little pile of firewood, she finally pulled the somewhat crumpled packet of cigarettes out of her pocket. She hadn't wanted to smoke in the elves' halls; huge though they were, it was still like smoking inside someone's house, so she'd held off until she was jonesing bad, lightning up with Liam's Zippo. She was away from the cottage's doors or windows; she wouldn't be smoking anyone else out.

Thranduil had come outside to observe the proceedings, and saw Thanadir making more kindling beyond what Lorna had done because...apparently he enjoyed it. He frowned to notice that Lorna was fussing with one of her...tobacco products, of which he did not approve. Though, the look on her face seemed to indicate that all was not well in her world.

Lorna eyed the cigarette, confused. "Jesus, this tastes like shit," she muttered, which made no sense - they'd been just fine yesterday, before she went to the halls. Had being surrounded by elf magic somehow...soured them, or something? She took another drag, every bit as disgusting as the first. Even the buzz of the nicotine was muted, totally unsatisfying...well, shit.

She crushed that one out half-smoked and lit another, wondering if maybe that had just been a dud, but nope, the second was just as bad. What the hell? "Is there something in your food that we haven't got out here?" she asked, somewhere between Thanadir and Thranduil. She gathered up the spent butts, dumping them into the trash bin. "I kind'v liked doing that." The Zippo, its engraving still clear even after all these years, glinted in the sunlight. Yes, it was scratched, but to her it remained beautiful, and she really didn't like not having a use for it.

 _I am afraid you may have me to blame for that, Lorna. While it was not deliberate that this...ruination of your ability to use tobacco has occurred, I cannot lie. It is not an indulgence of which I approve; I have seen it damage the health of many of your kind. I hope you can be content with the solace that alcohol provides._ Thranduil's face was a mix of about thirty percent guilt, twenty percent surprise, and fifty percent inadvertent smugness.

Lorna burst out laughing, though there was an edge of aggravation to it. It was a small price to pay for the aid she'd been given, but the shock of it wasn't precisely welcome. _One of these days, I will introduce you and Thanadir to weed_ , she sent him, _provided Earlene doesn't mind me bringing it into her house. It's technically illegal, but there's no reason for it to be._ The thought of either of the elves getting the munchies...it was too good to pass up, but she wasn't going to bring it if Earlene disapproved, and since Earlene had been a lawyer, there was a healthy chance she might.

She eyed the lighter again, and sighed as she put it in her pocket. She'd find another use for it, somehow.

Thranduil stared at her, smiling, weighing internally if he wanted to truly understand what "munchies" were...and thought better of it. It was enough that Lorna was not very angry with him; he had likely pushed her as far as possible in a given twenty-four hour period of time. With a grin, he filled his arms with wood, and nudged the door open to deposit the wood inside. The kettle had just begun screaming, and Earlene leaned out of the doorway to ask who wanted tea?

"I could do with some," Lorna said, gathering wood of her own. The cigarette had left a positively putrid taste in her mouth, and while it was likely for the best Thranduil had cured her dependency, some weird part of her actually mourned it a little. Tea would surely cure that. "I think you've got enough firewood to last you a month out there."

Earlene filled the mugs, and set them out for everyone, along with cream and sugar for anyone who wanted it (she did). She sliced apples too...because. And then with a sigh, found a notepad, and opened her laptop. If Lorna was surprised to walk in and see all three of them peering into their respective computers, she hid it well. Earlene was already scratching furious notes on her tablet.

"Lorna, do chemists here usually have the machine for taking blood pressure here? I think today I've at least got to darken their door if I go shopping in town."

"This one does," Lorna said, cradling her mug of tea and inhaling the fragrance before she drank. It was a ritual she'd had as far back as she could remember, since it meant that she was at someone else's house, and safe enough for the time being. "Since it's the only chemist in town, it'll have most'v what you need. Do you know how to take someone's pulse?"

Earlene nodded. "There's an app for that," she said, reaching for her phone and seating herself next to Thanadir. "May I have your hand, Thanadir? Or rather, I need your finger."

The elf looked up at her with an expression of bafflement, though it was a simple request. When he extended his hand, Earlene took his finger while balancing his elbow on her knee. With a frown, she shook his finger lightly. "You must relax your hand, Thanadir. Do not tighten any of your muscles." She then proceeded to hold his finger against the camera flash on her phone, after she had tapped the screen, and waited. "They have the same temperature we do," she announced happily. "Or at least, close enough to it to not create a ruckus. And the pulse is more or less similar as well." Thanking Thanadir, she tried the same thing on Thranduil, with similar results. "Good. One less thing to worry about."

That really _was_ good, because Lorna didn't know what the hell they would have done otherwise. She was good at faking many things, but - _that's what she said_ , she thought, with an internal, defeated sigh. God dammit, Kevin. Still, the point stood. She wouldn't have had a clue how to fake _that_. "The main thing, I think, is going to be keeping your ears hidden, and giving you something more like an Irish accent. If you've lived in isolation, people'll expect it to be a bit odd, but neither'v you sound Irish at all."

"And I'm no help, with them probably exposed to my speaking more than that of anyone else. You know, I think it's time to start having Irish radio and TV on around here more, just to add to the chatter in this house. They can hardly start to imitate what they aren't hearing. Surely there is something that streams live around here…."

"There's YouTube, too," Lorna said. "I haven't listened to the radio in ages - too many bloody commercials - but there's some fantastic Irish channels that'll expose you to accents from all over. And the Irish, in all our...uh, glory." Logically, she knew they would probably be just fine in the outside world eventually, but she couldn't help but feel, absurdly, a bit like an over-protective mother, which Thranduil no doubt found hilarious. She was glad Thanadir couldn't read her mind too, at least not without actual effort; she didn't know what she'd do if she knew they were _both_ captive audiences to her brain's random vomit.

"Good idea," said Earlene, scrawling another note. "Okay, everyone is going to have to excuse me for awhile...it's been more than two days and I have not looked at...lawyer stuff that I don't want to look at but have to," she sighed, looking depressed.

"You do what you've got to," Lorna said. "Have you got eggs and milk? I know we just ate, but I can make some mean French toast. One'v the few things I'm anything more than basic at." She looked around. "Er...also, d'you have a kitchen stool?"

"Yes, yes, and knock yourself out," Earlene said, already frowning and typing...something. It was obvious that she was already completely sidetracked.

Thranduil stood up to assist her, by now having become halfway proprietary about the preparation of eggs, and very curious as to how the French made toast. He brought out the stepstool he knew Earlene had stored in the pantry, and set it down for Lorna. "I hope you do not mind, I wish to watch," he said, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.

"Not at all," she said, digging out a bowl. The counters in here were just high enough to give her a bit of trouble, but not high enough for her to really need the stool just yet; she dragged it with her anyway, and ignored the fact that even standing on it, her head barely reached his shoulder. _Thanks, Gran. Thanks for the height._ "Okay, so, Gran taught me to make French toast, but my sister refined it. Mairead's always had more money, so she was willing to add a couple things Gran wouldn't've." She cracked four eggs on the edge of the bowl, mercifully not dropping any shells in. "Tiny bit'v vanilla - not too much, though. I made that mistake ages ago, and it was bloody awful. Plenty'v cinnamon, but what gives it the kick is just a little bit'v cream." She had to hop off the stool to get that out of the refrigerator, studiously ignoring the fact that she felt way too much like a damn child every time she did it. "All right, now you turn the stove on to let it heat up - just about medium, here - and whisk the shit out'v this until it's an even consistency." Back up onto the stool, but she whisked it with a fork, just as Gran had done. "See how this goes? You'll save on elbow work if you do it this way. Here, can you pass me the bread?" She was giving a God-knows-how-old elf cooking lessons. Not long ago, that sentence would have struck her as far odder than it did now.

Thranduil disappeared into the pantry, to return with two choices. One arm held a loaf of sliced sandwich bread, the other a loaf of unsliced rustic….something or other. "Which do you require?" he asked.

Lorna eyed them both. "Sandwich bread's probably safer," she said. "Normally I'd like something a bit more natural, but since I don't know what's in that, or how it'll work, let's go with the sandwich. Okay, now this bit's the important part," she added, fetching a pan. "I know a lot'v people don't like using butter to grease a pan, but they're not doing it right." With a practiced hand, she scooped out just a bit from the tub, letting it run around the pan as it melted. "If it doesn't hiss, you're at the right temperature. Now, you take your bread -" she took slice from him "- and you dunk it into this mixture, but not enough to let it get soaked or anything, or it'll get soggy." She dunked it, flipped it with a fork, and dropped it neatly onto the pan. "You want to try?"

"Just one," he said. "Do I wait until that slice is done, or put it in now?"

"Go right on ahead and drop it in," she said. "So long as there's room, we just keep adding, and take them out in the order they cook in." She hopped off the stool again to grab two plates, setting them on the counter beside the stove, and the spatula, which looked comically large in her tiny hands, dammit. Oh well. She was little. Nothing she could do about it. "Once they've sat a bit, start lifting the corners and checking on them," she said, demonstrating. "Once it starts to get golden-brown, that's when you flip it. Too soon and it won't cook all the way, but too late and it'll burn, and burnt French toast is an outright sacrilege."

Given that there were four of them, she'd probably ought to make two slices apiece. She peeked again, and discovered the slice was perfect. "Okay, this is what it ought to look like, so you flip it like this." Why yes, she did in fact show off just a little when she flipped it, because what the hell, it wasn't like she had many actually entertaining skills. She repeated the action when the second was ready, then handed the spatula to Thranduil. "Okay, your turn."

He imitated her expertly because….elves. Though not without comment. "You are a good teacher, Lorna. I have only begun to learn something about cooking since Earlene came. Before that I could only boil water for tea."

"I had good teachers myself," she said, more pleased than she let on. "Gran and Mairead, between them they managed to get a few things into my head." She wasn't surprised he'd not known much about cooking before he met Earlene; being a king, he'd probably never had any need to. Strange, how that thought no longer inspired a knee-jerk derision in her - but then, she'd met Thranduil as Thranduil first, king second, and he seemed pretty willing to keep that aspect of his and Thanadir's lives quiet for now. Probably a lot easier to do, outside of the halls.

The first slice was about done, and she grinned. "Okay, so here's how it works at Mairead's house," she said, handing him a plate. "You go across the kitchen, and if you catch it when I fling it, you can eat it. I've never missed a toss once."

Earlene, deeply focused on a delicate point of litigation involving international financial law, caught something sailing overhead in her peripheral vision, and managed to both witness a piece of French toast landing on Thranduil's plate while also meeting Thanadir's vaguely horrified and wide-eyed expression with her own. That Thranduil was laughing heartily and thereby fully endorsing whatever had just occurred left both her and the seneschal at a hopeless disadvantage, since they had no choice but to allow him his indulgences. Turning back to her screen and squeezing her eyes shut, she forced her mind back onto the nuances of the last three court precedents while silently wondering what her life had become.

Lorna burst out laughing herself. "If I had a hat, it would be off to you, good sir," she said. "Get ready for slice number two, and then Thanadir, it's your turn. Earlene's busy, she gets a pass."

A volley of Sindarin from Thanadir flew at Thranduil, who retorted in their gibberish just as swiftly. Had anyone been looking, they would have noticed that Thanadir also squeezed his eyes shut while trying to bury his head behind his laptop as he attempted to compose his features. In over ten thousand years, Valar preserve them, he could not ever recall being commanded to catch flying food. Standing, and smoothing his tunic, he hoped the slightly strained look he could not entirely banish from his features was not discernible to the mortal women. Woman, as he could see that Earlene was equally appalled and straining to focus on her work. Breathing deeply, he once again told himself to follow the fine example of his queen, give or take the slight twitching he noticed at the corner of her eye.

Poor Thanadir...Lorna didn't feel anywhere near as bad as she ought to, however. Earlene's slices she deposited neatly onto a plate, along with a dollop of butter to the side. She put a second plate upside-down over the top of it, to keep it warm in case Earlene didn't want to eat it right off, and rested a knife and fork on it before bringing it to the table. "I'll not ask you to catch flying food," she said. "It's here for when you've got a moment - if it gets cold, just let me know." She fetched a mug of tea, too, and set it to Earlene's other side, with cream and sugar. Having lived with a Type A-personality sister, she knew what was needed at times - including space.

Something like 'thank you' and apologies were mumbled; about thirty seconds ago Earlene's fingers had begun flying with astounding speed at the keyboard, and her forehead was furrowed in concentration.

 _Please forgive Earlene, Lorna. While I do not understand much of what is in her mind, I can tell you that it is difficult even for her and immensely complicated...she is not really even with us, just now. But your food is delicious, and I believe that if you keep Thanadir's plate full, he may yet recover his sensibilities. I can also tell you that Earlene will only eat one slice, when she does return to this world._

Sure enough, a glance at Thanadir revealed that he had become much happier, now that he was busy eating. To Lorna's amusement, an absolute crust of sugar was visible on the piece he was now happily slicing and eating.

 _It's no problem,_ she sent. _My sister's the same way, when she's focused on something._ Thanadir, though...she bit the inside of her cheek very, very hard in an attempt to keep from laughing, and failed utterly, turning back to the stove long enough to scoop up two more slices - though this time she was a benevolent cook, and brought them over on a plate. _I haven't seen anyone put sugar on French toast since my youngest nephew. It's a good thing he's an elf, or I'd worry about diabetes._ Still giggling, she padded back across the kitchen and up onto her stool again. _You want any more, or should I finish off this batch?_

"Thank you, I have had enough. Thanadir, would you like more slices of this?"

One look from the seneschal gave him an answer. "Thanadir would like one or two more slices, if that is possible," he said with a grin. Just then Earlene surfaced, managing to defeat at least one email. Opening the lid on her plate, she quickly volunteered her second slice to Thanadir, while diving into the other and declaring it delicious.

"Nice touch on the cinnamon and vanilla, Lorna," she said approvingly. "This is really well done. Nothing's worse than inferior French toast."

Thranduil took the opportunity to ferry her unwanted slice to Thanadir's plate, laughing at himself. If he could have imagined, even a month ago, that he would be doing this…

Had Lorna known what he was thinking, she would have labeled herself a bad influence, because, well, she _was_. The fact that she was child-sized often didn't help, since it seemed to make people more willing to join in on her lunacy. As it was, she tossed two more slices of bread onto the pan, inordinately pleased. Despite the fact that Gran and Mairead had both been conscientious about letting her know when she'd done something well, it remained, even now, a bit novel. "Thanks," she said. "My sister, she's grand in the kitchen, and her husband's a chef. I picked up a few things." She eyed Thanadir. "All right, I know you're tall, but where d'you _put_ all'v it?" she asked. "Do elves have denser bones or muscles or something?" She was actually genuinely curious. God knew they were stronger than any human, but why? Thanadir was quite slender, so much so that if he'd been a human, she might have been afraid of breaking him, but she knew he was tougher than any human. Maybe they were like Wolverine, except they were born with adamantium in their bones. If people had iron in their blood, why not?

 _Because that's impossible, Lorna_ , she told herself...except she'd come to realize that that was a word she just shouldn't be using anymore, so maybe they really were like Wolverine.

Thranduil was openly laughing now. "Many of us, Lorna would not seem that much stronger than human males. You are dealing with two...unusual cases, would be the word. The oldest of our race were stronger, and I was gifted with great strength even for an elf. There is nothing supernatural about this part of us. That we were also skilled fighters with bodies trained to many physical disciplines is part of what you see. Of old, there were men and dwarves as strong as or stronger than elves."

Lorna arched an eyebrow, flipping the bread in the pan. "Human males, huh? What about us females? I know next to you two I've got nothing - and I'll admit, that's bothered me a bit; I'm not used to being around people so much stronger than I am - but there's plenty a man I've knocked the shite out'v." She tried not to think about what she'd done to that one bloke with half a brick and his teeth, and of course immediately thought of it...Mick had been there for that one, actually. It wasn't that she was precisely _proud_ of doing things like that, but...well, she was a little woman, and she'd always been a little woman, and there were plenty who thought that meant 'target'. She'd worked, and she'd worked hard, to get as strong as she was - though part of it was just genetic, given Gran was Gran, and for a little old lady could haul a surprising amount of farming tools.

"It is not meant as any slight to you," Thranduil said. "If you had precisely the same physical skills, it would still be difficult for you to harm us. We have greater speed, in addition to greater strength. But against one of your own kind...there is little doubt in my mind that you are able to damage males. But I would hazard that an extremely well-trained fighter of either gender could yet harm you. Most male elves are not appreciably stronger than female elves; but few of our females have ever taken an interest in fighting and warfare. And unless I am much mistaken, you are unusual in this regard? I have seen few human women that have your…proclivities."

Lorna laughed, scooping one slice onto a plate. "Oh, I'm well aware how fast you lot are," she said. "I didn't land so much as a single hit on Thanadir the other day. He's agreed to teach me to fight, since I don't actually know what I'm doing aside from hitting really hard when I get a chance, and I've promised I'll try not to swear at him." The other slice went neatly onto the plate, along with a pat of butter. "I think...I'm not sure if I would've taken an interest, as you say, if I'd grown up differently. I might've had the temper regardless, but...I know you can read my mind, but you can't really know what it's like to be a tiny woman in the human world. You get pegged as soft, and weak, and an easy target, unless you learn how to be something else. I _enjoyed_ it, way more than I should've - you saw that yesterday. We all do what we've got to do, and I don't know that I'd say I'm so unusual as you might think. There's women in the Army, and the police...some'v us just like it, I guess. There's a phenomenon called 'runner's high', but you can get it from weight lifting, too." She set the plate down in front of Thanadir, right on top if his empty one - there were plenty of dishes to do anyway; one more couldn't hurt.

As Thranduil considered her words, he took a second look at her, noting her height. Frowning, he came close to her and sank down until his head was at the same elevation as hers, and found that in order to do it, he had to kneel. At which point, he was now the same height. This was not exactly a posture he was in the habit of assuming. Looking around, the first thing to catch his notice was the kitchen counter. The view was very different, he conceded, from down here. Slowly, he held out his hand, palm outward, asking her silently to hold her hand out against his. He had not realized either, that his limbs dwarfed hers, by comparison; the entirety of her hand encompassed little more space than his palm. Rising again, his face took on a very contemplative appearance. "I had never considered, how different it must be," was all he said, though his thoughts seemed to continue.

Lorna hadn't expected he'd do that, and she wondered what he made of it, seeing things from her eye-level. "Well, why would you have?" she asked good-naturedly. "Most people would never have a reason to. But my Gran, she used to say that short people aren't any more belligerent than tall people - it's just concentrated, so it seems worse. See, someone'd look at you or Thanadir and automatically get out'v the way, but little people like my Gran and I usually have to kick someone or get stepped on." She had actually seen the world from a rather taller perspective herself, mostly because of the time she'd been stabbed in the foot at fifteen and had to be hauled around piggy-back for a few days. Shane was about Thanadir's height, which had put her line of view at roughly Thranduil's. It had been very nice, even if she'd had to duck every time they went through a door.

She was honestly rather jealous of Mairead's height. Her sister stood a full five-foot-ten, which apparently came from their granddad, though she had Mam's curly red hair and blue eyes; looking at them, nobody would have guessed they were half-sisters. At least Thranduil and Thanadir were closer in height, and had roughly the same build; all the elves she'd seen were on the pale side, but Thranduil's eyes were going creep people out unless he clouded their minds a bit. Lorna knew full well just how much having creepy eyes could affect how someone dealt with you; Da had hated it so much when she looked at him that he was content to chase her off more often than hit her. Gran had once told her they came from great-Gran, which Lorna believed, especially as her nephew Kevin had also inherited them. She'd always heard that green eyes were meant to be lovely, but most people seemed to find hers off-putting. Which she could actually sort of understand; she didn't see it while looking in the mirror, but seeing photographs of herself gave her the willies.

But Thranduil and Thandir could at least pass for relatives, so long as they could learn roughly the same accent. They were elves, they seemed to be good at everything, the lucky bastards; she had no doubt they'd have it mastered in no time. They were so superior to humans in pretty much _everything_ that she didn't understand why there were so few of them left - but that was probably above her pay-grade, so she'd keep it to herself. While she was curious about some things, it was hardly imperative that she know them, and she counted herself lucky to know all she did already. They'd let her in on far more than she had ever expected they would, certainly further than she needed to do her job or, honestly, deserved - at least not yet. She'd feel less awkward about it once she'd had Shane do a few things, and once Niamh had put the rest of the paperwork through. She had a distinct feeling that the things she'd been given - the beautiful nightgown, the lovely rooms, the necklace - were, like the necklace, 'just because', an idea she was going to have to get used to sooner or later, because it didn't seem likely to stop. Somehow, she managed to feel grateful and guilty all at once, because she wasn't used to being given things she hadn't actually earned from anyone but Liam, Gran or Mairead. Presents from them, things 'just because', had weirded her out too, at first, but eventually she'd got used to it.

She tossed another glance at Thanadir. Part of her dreaded sending him into the village, because she knew, _knew_ that it was only a matter of time before someone wouldn't be able to resist, and decided to pinch his cheek. She could warn them against it all she liked, but there were one or two very old ladies of the sort who ignored anything they didn't want to hear, and she could only pray he wouldn't get offended. She probably ought to warn him about it, just so it wouldn't come as a complete surprise...the problem was that, though he was some degree older than Thranduil, he looked much younger. When she'd first met him, she'd thought him little more than a lad, and an adorable one at that - and there was a certain kind of person, usually female, who seemed genetically hard-wired to do something about that. He could have quite a measure of gravitas if he chose - she'd seen that in the halls, however fleetingly - but these ladies wouldn't know that.

She wondered how she could warn him about it, without leaving him totally horrified and unwilling to go into the village unless he was told to. Apart from walking arm-in-arm, elves didn't, from what she'd so far observed, touch each other very much; the idea of some old lady giving his cheek a pinch would probably be both alien and awful.

Being past the French toast, Earlene tried to focus on some organization for the rest of the day. She still had to deal with Lorna's prepaid card. Or more accurately, she was going to have to shuffle a few things around first. While she kept a substantial sum in her accounts, ten thousand euros was not something that she liked to park in her checking account. And Lorna hadn't given any indication that she would leave soon, so there was an easy solution. Picking up her laptop, she murmured something about being a little bit cold and went to sit next to Thanadir on the side of him that placed her closest to the wood stove. For good effect, she tossed another log into the firebox before settling in. Once there, her computer screen was completely safe from Lorna accidentally seeing anything she was doing.

Creases formed on her brow as she realized that the simplest way to ensure she was not entering a financial or tax minefield would be to call the agent she had used and run the essence of this by them; they were paid to know these sorts of things. This should not be different, in principle, than if she were to hire a housekeeper; that much larger sums of money were under discussion was incidental. Closing down her screen, she excused herself without comment and procured her cell phone. There was reception at the barn; that would be a more than safe place to talk.

Lorna, entirely oblivious, hummed a little as she gathered up the dishes. Gran had always been very firm on that: you make the mess, you clean it up, and she really had made a bit of a mess. Stuffing the stopper into the sink drain, she hunted down a bottle of dish soap and turned the tap on full bore, letting it fill while she took care of the batter - she'd learned the hard way not to pour it down the drain, so she just dumped it into the bin and reminded herself to take it out later, before it could start to stink.

It had been a long while since she'd made anyone French toast. She went to Mairead's on Sundays, but she hadn't actually made anything herself in years. Few people ever came to her cottage; her nieces and nephews came thundering through every now and again, but for the most part she was alone out there. She liked it; she'd grown rather private over the last few years, but she realized now that she'd been missing having people around and hadn't even known it. While she still held back a bit, even now, it wasn't like she did in the same ways she did in Baile. She loved her village, and it loved her, but it was filled with people who had never known the kind of life she'd led. And only now did she realize she'd been lonely.

At least, even once she'd gone home, she still had the option to come back here. It wasn't terribly long of a ride, though it wasn't going to be any fun at all come winter; Irish winters had a deserved reputation for being wet and miserable, which meant she'd have to invest in some proper riding leathers, and leave some dry clothes to change into once she got here.

Aggravatingly, she once again had to drag the damn stool over in order to actually get all the dishes in to soak, though she flatly refused to haul over to wash down the stovetop. She was short, but she wasn't _that_ short, dammit.

Earlene drifted back inside, frowning to see that Lorna was stuck with dishes...generally she went in for a "the cook doesn't clean" method with other people. Even though it was pure hypocrisy, because she _always_ wanted to both cook and clean, but she admitted even to herself that she was a little overzealous about how things were done in a kitchen. But as Lorna was obviously more than halfway through, she simply thanked her for the effort before slinking back to the computer.

The information given to her had indicated that it would essentially be Lorna's responsibility to pay taxes on this. While it was tempting to go "under the table" on the entire thing, the sums of money were too large and could flag unwanted attention. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and then had an entirely different idea...could she simply have this card in both their names, with Lorna having signing privileges that would allow it to be as good as her own? Shaking her head, she rejected the idea. _Don't try and get fancy, Earlene. It's the road to perdition. This method will be fine, and if it isn't broken, don't fix it._ With a few more taps and clicks it was all taken care of, due to arrive likely within a week.

Washing dishes in such a very large sink, Lorna soon discovered, was an exercise in trying not to fall in. Reaching into the bottom of it put her in water up to her elbows, which in turn sank her into a mountain of bubbles - she'd definitely put in too much soap. Still, she managed to get them all scrubbed, but when she reached down to pull the stopper, she gained herself a faceful of bubbles for her trouble. Praying no one had seen her, she wrenched the stopper out and groped for a hand towel.

A rumbling sound from across the counter revealed that Thranduil was smiling as big as she'd ever seen him smile, while trying to keep what was obviously a chuckle from evolving into full blown laughter. When his eyes met Lorna's, he looked up at the ceiling, trying to govern himself.

 _You are better than Star Trek, Lorna. Thank you for brightening my day._

A quick look around confirmed the ongoing obliviousness of Earlene and Thanadir, who were both glued to their screens.

Lorna wanted to scowl, but being told she was better than Star Trek made her try and utterly fail to choke back her own laughter - which of course made her inhale suds, which in turn made both laughter and choking worse until she wiped her face off. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," she managed eventually, between giggles. "Earlene's sink isn't a sink, it's a miniature bathtub. I could go for a good swim in it." Of course she had suds up her nose, so she blew it before glaring at the dishes. "Behave," she ordered them, gingerly turning the tap on again to rinse them.

Looking up at the word "sink", Earlene grinned. "Sorry about that, I've been spoiled having that kind of sink and I couldn't go back." And for whatever reason, that phrase caused her mind to jump onto something else entirely. "You know, it's Thursday. The quilting group meets at four o'clock, and...Thanadir, have you decided if you wish to go to this? I was planning a trip to town anyway, and will work around that if you choose to."

Thanadir looked up as though he'd just been interrupted in the middle of deep contemplations, which made Earlene feel a little guilty, but, the question did need asking.

"I should have asked for your attention first, I am sorry," she apologized. "Did you hear my question at all?"

"Yes, I heard. Yes, I will go. Will you go as well?"

While Earlene would personally rather have dental work done that sit in on a meeting having to do with sewing, she felt she owed it to him to understand the nature of the question.

"Thanadir, are you asking to see if I am interested in this, or are you asking because you would prefer it if I went with you?"

As badly as she did not want to go, she absolutely would if she even thought that he was asking her out of a desire for moral support. After how he'd cared for her during the party disaster, she'd sit through a month of quilting….whatevers, for him.

"The second one," he answered honestly.

"Then yes, I will go," she answered, as she visualized the pint of Guinness that would not be in her hand with longing. She somehow doubted that anything harder than tea would be served at a quilting occasion. "But please realize, that I am not able to participate much, as I know nothing about any kind of needlework."

Lorna, hearing that, winced and finished drying off her arms. "Oi, I ought to warn you, there's a chance some little old lady'll try to pinch Thanadir's cheeks. I've warned them not to, but there's a certain kind'v woman who reaches ninety and decides social conventions're for other people. If one'v them does, I'm sorry in advance, but old people're often a bit...odd. Sorry, Thanadir, but you've just got that sort'v face."

"Sure god, Lorna, for a moment you had me worried...which cheeks you meant."

The mere idea of some old gran pinching His Excellency's derriere was not something she was prepared to face, in any lifetime. There were things you just did not do to an elf and...that really would have to be one of them. But Lorna was right, Thanadir was hopelessly...cute. Those doe-eyes could melt glaciers…

Lorna burst out laughing, briefly trying to smother it with her hand before giving up. "No, no, that's a different sort'v woman entirely, and not one you'll find in a quilting circle. These are the sort who, if Thanadir was human, would call him 'such a nice lad', given how young he looks. Anything but face-pinching'd be seen as obscene." Admittedly her gran might have pinched his arse, but Gran was Gran. The woman swore she'd grabbed Bono's arse in the 80's, and Lorna had been tempted to believe her.

"Alright then, that's settled. If it doesn't go on too long, perhaps we'll stop in for a quick pint, but I won't make promises. Now the question is, what am I doing with the rest of this day..."

Thranduil spoke. "I can answer part of that, meluieg. Quite soon, more elves will come. It is time to begin preparing your garden."

"I've got to check in with Mick, see what he's got in for the day." Not having a consistent schedule was a bit weird, but it only made sense, given his work wasn't precisely steady. "I'll be off around four or five, so I'll be at the pub if you turn up. I'll have to head out soon so I have time to change my clothes before I get to the mechanic. I'll tell Mick I food coma'd on your couch, Earlene. He'll buy that easy enough." She glanced at her rather damp flannel shirt. Yeah, she definitely needed a change, or he'd wonder what the hell she'd been doing. Knowing him, he'd assume she'd murdered someone and dumped their body in a bog. There was no bog around here, but that wouldn't stop him assuming.

Without explanation, Thranduil began laughing out loud as he excused himself to look at something outside. Earlene's eyebrow rose and she suppressed a smile. It was her hunch that he and Lorna had just as many silent exchanges as she did with him...and she had seen more than one inexplicable stamp of mirth on his face, and always when Lorna was with them. _Good_ , she thought. _If he can find some joy after all this time on account of our human oddities, I'll not stop him._

"Sure, Lorna, that totally works. You can tell anyone there's a spare room here...which is technically true, never mind that there's no bed in it, but I somehow doubt anyone will ever come to figure that out. This place makes a perfect excuse if need be, and definitely beats anything resembling the truth." Earlene grinned, still sometimes unable to believe what the forest held.

Lorna pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to laugh herself. "It really does," she said. "Mick'll not question that, though I can't go doing it too often or other people will." Rolling her eyes, she headed to the door and stuck her head out, calling, "I'm probably not wrong!" before returning. "If Mick sees I'm such a mess, he'll think I've murdered someone and dumped them in a bog," she explained. "Evidently, Thranduil found that hilarious. I'm glad my mind amuses him, since it does what it wants. I once thought that if people could read my mind, I'd get punched in the face a lot, so it's good to know it's funny rather than annoying."

"Then again," Earlene said wryly, "he's an elf." Though, she broke into laughter herself, thereby rendering that point moot. "Oh, I give up," she muttered, her face lined with amusement. "Time for cat videos." She liked to check in to see if there was anything new from Henri, le Chat Noir. The deliciously existential feline never ceased to amuse her.

"All right, I've got time for one," Lorna said, glancing at the kitchen clock. Mick would hardly care if she was late, but still.

"Don't hate me, they're in French with subtitles, but they're incredibly funny. Or maybe 'funny' isn't the word, they're so incredibly cynical that...oh just watch the damn thing. If you don't like it I won't be offended." Lorna seemed to be genuinely amused by the dark humor, but as Earlene didn't want to be the one responsible for causing her to be late to work.

Lorna couldn't help but crack up, and made a mental note to check that channel out later. "You've got me hooked," she said. "I'll give everyone a warning before quilting time, and hope that's enough. If you both need a drink afterward, John's got some Poitín that might at least take Thanadir's edge off, and some'v my homemade beer if you want any." She eyed her slightly damp shirt, shaking her head. She wasn't kidding about Mick thinking she'd murdered someone.

Before she left, she carefully took her necklace off and set it atop the refrigerator, where it wasn't likely to get in the way or lost. It was a beautiful thing, and she really did appreciate the sentiment, for all it still made her feel awkward - but it belonged in this world. She didn't want to risk anything happening to it out there, and she didn't fancy trying to explain it. Maybe, someday, when the people of Lasg'len had had more exposure to the elves, but for now...Earlene would understand, even if Thranduil wouldn't. "I'm leaving this necklace here with you," she called. "I'll pick it up again next time I'm back. I know Thranduil thinks it's not worth much, but I'd die if something happened to it, and wearing it in the mechanic isn't to be thought'v." It occurred to her that it would actually match the coat Gran had made her, but when on Earth opportunity to wear both might arise, she had no idea. It was a thing she'd wear in this part of her life, because it really was too lovely not to; maybe someday she'd stop fearing she'd break it. Elf things seemed to be made to last, but instinct was instinct, and not easily overridden.

Meandering out into the sunshine, she headed back to town, wondering just what on Earth her life had become.

Earlene sighed, now that the storm that was Lorna had departed. She'd noticed she was beginning to feel a little...edgy, and she could guess the cause. For someone who had done little but be alone, she was by her standards _surrounded_ , lately. And she could also see easily enough that while she could spend hours in silence around Thanadir and Thranduil, which made it feel as though she were by herself, Lorna brought a vastly different energy to the playing field. And perhaps, just perhaps, the flying French toast had crossed her personal limit today. Truth be told, she felt like taking a walk. Alone.

Thranduil looked at her, following all this, and reflected. "Could I go with you, meluieg, if I promised not to talk?" he asked softly. She nodded, smiling, and went to find a cardigan.

Taking his hand once out the back door, she wandered into the woods, and kept wandering. She tried to walk very quietly, and enjoyed watching the budding trees, and listening for the assorted sounds of birds and the rustlings of small animals. The changing scents of the woods registered, as did the sound of flowing water from somewhere, that she sought out. The closest she came to communicating with him was when she found the small stream, and looked to the other side of it, asking him with her eyes if it was safe to cross. When he nodded his assent, she released his hand, and took a hard run at the water (skirts and all), to clear the distance to the other side. The longer she walked through the woods, the more she noticed, and the more she enjoyed them. Whether it was the mushrooms growing against some sides of the tree trunks, the kinds of birds that flitted overhead, or the colonies of large ants that meandered the humus underfoot, the observations provided the time and framework in which to stop thinking on the annoyances of her day and immerse in something restorative. After more than an hour of walking silently alongside her, his sense of wonder at her behavior magnified. He hadn't realized that humans would care this much about being out of doors, or would try to embrace the life of the earth.

Thranduil knew that she did not want to hear words, but offered what gift he could. As Earlene looked at more features of the forest, she somehow understood more about them. How and when they would change with the seasons. How one kind of tree influenced the nesting of one kind of bird. What kinds of plants the snail slowly tracking across the tree bark would prefer to have. When she finally understood, she turned to him, smiling in a way that showed her pearly teeth, and reached up to kiss his lips softly. One thing led to another, and they wordlessly shared love in a clearing of sunshine and tender grasses. And afterward, she rose, brushed off her skirts and waited for him to take her hand once again. Thranduil had been certain that sooner or later his wife would begin speaking, but this never occurred. She kept her silence until they reached the porch of her house, whereupon she embraced him and said only "Thank you." In all this time her thoughts had been still, muted, and yet she was not trying to hide from him. He did not know what to think, except that their time together had been beautiful and surprisingly...elven.


	23. Chapter 23

Having no idea what anyone wore to a quilting meeting, and therefore basing her garment choices far more on the forecast temperature for early evening, Earlene opted for warm woolen pants and a pretty cashmere sweater. Both to hopefully make him feel appreciated, and because the item was incredibly warm and comfortable, she also chose the elven cloak Thanadir made for her. On a hunch, earlier she downloaded the English-Sindarin dictionary to her smartphone, because just maybe some incredible vocabulary roadblock would occur that this could solve. Which was all to say, she was as prepared for this cultural encounter as she was ever likely to be. And she had to put on a brave face; she could only imagine the trepidation Thanadir must feel. It would be the same as if she were asked to travel to Thranduil's Halls the day after she learned that elves existed. _Earlene, you did travel to the Halls the day after you found out elves existed_ , she reminded herself. She massaged her forehead, wondering how her life had become this odd, exactly. _You've faced off against some of the best lawyers in Manhattan_ , she reminded herself. _A few Irish biddies cannot possibly present much difficulty. It will be a nice evening and you will be helping someone who would do anything for you_. She walked to the barn to check everything was in order with her bicycle, and placed her folded cloak into one of the baskets, wheeling the contraption outside near to the house, and then returning to collect Thanadir.

Thranduil was looking a little too happy about having several hours alone in which to watch videos. Which was hard to fathom, as she had suggested to him that he begin taking a hard look at human history with a series that taught about World War I, complete with astonishing amounts of film footage. It wouldn't be her idea of the perfect evening but, each his own.

At three o'clock, they left her house to walk to town. Though she did not expect it, the seneschal courteously offered his arm and she gladly took it. It was slightly odd, given that she was steering the bicycle with her right hand, but as it was light and no great difficulty, it worked well enough. Maybe she'd been grabbed and groped one too many times since coming here, because to feel guarded by one who could and would keep any such thing from occurring felt incredibly reassuring. Though, she was still faintly annoyed with him for pulling her off of Sean at the party. _Dammit, I deserved to get in one more kick to his nuts, because if anyone should have their testes damaged beyond use, it was that sack of shite_ she reasoned, glancing up at him. But one look at the large, expressive eyes and rosy lips set in his eternally youthful face made it impossible to continue any meaningful level of irritation with him. After they walked on for a time, Earlene spoke.

"Thanadir, may I ask you a question about elves?" Suddenly a curiosity had come over her.

"Of course, Earlene," the seneschal replied, with an air of wondering what about them fascinated humans this time.

"To our eyes, all elves appear to be the same age. Grown, but only about thirty years old. When elves meet each other, is it the same, or is there some means by which you understand that some among you are much older than others?"

Thanadir raised his eyebrows, for this was something he considered to actually be a worthwhile question, and one to which she could not possibly know an answer.

"There is. Or rather, there was. I do not believe a human could see this, or truly understand. As we live, and so many years pass, the depth of our time living is carried in our eyes. In our expression. But all the elves here are very old. Ancient, I think is the word. So, all our eyes seem the same. There is little difference between twelve thousand years and eighteen thousand years."

She laughed, whistling in the dark at the magnitude of the disparity, which seemed to be as profound as she had feared it might be. What could any human make, of living for that span of time? "You are correct, I cannot understand. And I cannot see. But I thank you, that you would answer my question."

"Earlene, how old are you?" he asked, curious.

"I am thirty-eight years. And while you may always ask me anything, anything at all, I must warn you that it is usually considered not polite among humans, to ask the age of another, especially of women. How young and fleeting, I must seem to you," she said with a smile. "We are like falling stars, whereas you are like the stars in the heavens."

Thanadir was fascinated, not realizing that a mortal could possibly be so comfortable talking about this disparity. He regarded her. "If you could have it be otherwise, would you wish it to?"

She tilted her head. "I am not certain, Thanadir. I will be truthful, I would like to have more years than most humans have, which is often only sixty or seventy. Though from the sound of it, if I am fortunate, that is a gift Thranduil can grant me. But hundreds of years? Thousands? More than ten thousand? I would almost have to ask you the same question. Does it not become difficult, to watch all around you change, while you remain the same?"

"It can be", he admitted. "For some, this difficulty was too much to bear, and why they have gone to be with the Valar. I have always had my King. And our people. Someone to care for, someone to serve. It has given me a purpose."

"Then we share one thing, our two races. Those who have a purpose are happy, content. Those who do not...it often does not go so well, for them. I have never told you, how happy I am to know that Thranduil has you. You are an extraordinary being, Thanadir, as is he."

The elf looked at her kindly. He did not need to be told that for a human, she was unusual as well, and very different from the others that lived here. "Thank you, Earlene." After a pause, he continued. "Thranduil told me that you lived in a great city of men. He showed me pictures, in a book. What was it like? Many people live there?"

"New York City? It is an amazing place, and difficult to describe. It is so many things. Over seven million people, Thanadir. Some are so wealthy that they can rival the splendor of our King's Halls with their homes, and others so wretched and poor that they barely survive. The best and worst of humanity is all to be found there. The city never sleeps, day or night. It is so very complicated."

Falling silent for awhile, the seneschal considered this. "What did you like to do the most?" he asked.

"You mean, to please myself?"

He nodded.

"I could not allow myself many indulgences. My work, my...duties, took up a great deal of my time and energy. I worked very hard. But I allowed myself one thing; I subscribed to the ballet. I never missed it."

"Ballet? I do not know what that is, Earlene."

"It is dance. The most exquisite dance there is. It is dance that tells stories. Bodies so graceful they rival the elves, and the most beautiful music ever written." Earlene looked up at him to see his face, and saw curiosity and interest.

"Would you like to watch a performance? I would gladly show you one. I have many favorites, that can be seen on the television."

"I would like that very much." His artistic soul did not require much persuasion.

Their first stop was the grocery, with quite a long list. Thanadir had never seen anything like this, and dutifully pushed around the little shopping cart, searching with his eyes over all the food labels. Though Aislinn had seen him at the party, Earlene smiled to notice the shopkeeper's head peeking down the aisles every so often, filled with curiosity to see what the elf made of her store. Thanadir asked many questions from how the food got into the cans (she promised to show him a video at a later time) to what the boxed cereals were (unfit to eat, and she would explain later about processed food) to what the shiny clear stuff was that wrapped the meats (he had not seen plastic wrap at her home yet, and it fascinated him). Finally they checked out, and he helped her place the many items into the trailer on the bicycle.

Next, she stopped in at the liquor store to procure several bottles of wine. Teasing, she remarked that Thranduil seemed to like wine a great deal, which caused Thanadir to smile. "He has not yet returned to his cellars. I am uncertain why he does not bring his wine to your home, unless he fears it would tempt you."

They passed the Spotted Dick, at whose door she could not help but glance longingly, and continued on down the cobbled streets until they came to the home of Ian and Mary Walsh, the hostess of the Quilting Club. They were exactly five minutes early, which seemed like precisely polite timing to Earlene's way of thinking. With a grateful squeeze to his arm, she reached tentatively for the somewhat gaudy and definitely impossible to miss brass cat-shaped door knocker. Lifting it and letting it fall twice, she hoped that was sufficient; the device made an appalling 'clunk'. Looking apologetically at Thanadir, she shrugged her shoulders and waited.

A bustling noise signaled the approach of their hostess. The door flew open, allowing a comet trail of perfume to exit in a swirl of air. A beaming Mary greeted them and gushed at how pleased she was to see them. Gazing on Thanadir as though he were a prize tulip at a garden show, she took the elf's hand and glided off with him in tow, leaving Earlene to hustle behind them. With great amusement she noted the doilies, the porcelain figurines, and the nice furniture that clearly spelled out a woman who took great pride in her home. And she wondered, too...Ian did not seem like he could be a man of terribly great means...and she guessed that she was seeing many an object that had been scrimped and saved for over the course of a lifetime. Placing Thanadir in the best and most comfortable armchair, and blathering about tea, Mary breezed off to her kitchen. They were apparently the first ones there, and already Earlene was more amused than she dreamed she would be. _When all else fails, there is People Watching_ , she thought, grinning encouragingly at the bewildered elf. Though, she did stake out a much simpler looking seat that she firmly placed next to Thanadir's chair. She would not abandon him to be surrounded, even if she had to insist on it. While they waited, they both looked around them; the only sound was the ticking of a small grandfather-type wall clock that made a rather imposing presence with its relentless tick-tocking. For the first time, she rather wished that Thanadir could speak to her with his mind only, because she would give a great deal to know what he was thinking just now.

As she gazed all around, her attention was diverted by a sharp intake of air and a strange noise. Turning her head, she looked back to see that Thanadir had the largest cat she had ever seen planted squarely on his lap, while another equally imposing specimen had appeared on the back of the armchair, and was reaching out with its paw to tug at Thanadir's long hair. "i Iaul," Earlene said brightly. "in Ioel!" She felt immensely pleased with herself, that she remembered how to say not only "the cat", but "the cats" as well. Reaching over, she unhelpfully began petting the long, silky fur, which caused the animal to begin treading against Thanadir's chest, purring loudly. In a moment, it had flopped upside down on His Excellency's lap, and was now kneading the air with its paws. Just when the situation could not be more humorous in Earlene's estimation, a third monster jumped into Thanadir's lap as well. The seneschal's eyes held a plea for help. Thanadir did not appear to notice that the cat above him was now chewing on his hair.

Chuckling and taking pity on him, she lifted (with some effort) the heavy feline that suddenly became dead weight in her arms, and brought it to her lap. Which was a mistake, because the cat swiftly discovered her cashmere sweater and immediately began drooling copiously as he kneaded at her breast in a most uncomfortable manner. While she liked cats, she had never seen one capable of this kind of salivation...drops were quite literally splashing all over her, one drop per purr. She looked up to see that Thanadir was now smiling from ear to ear at her predicament. A second knock came at the door and Mary swooped into the room, stopping to fold her hands together with a look of besotted endearment. "Hunnie Bunnie! Droopy! Oh isn't that precious, they like the elf!" she gushed. Earlene did not have the heart to mention that all of them liked the elf, but Mary did give her a smile and mention "And I see Wobbles likes you, too!" before answering the door.

A stream of ladies entered the room, and came forward in friendly greeting. Earlene used the need to stand and meet the other guests as an excuse to gently deposit the four-legged faucet onto the carpet, turning to free Thanadir's lap so he could stand as well. With a lazy swipe of its paw, Droopy looked vaguely dismayed as the seneschal's hair was pulled out of his grasp. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she managed to banish the helpless laughter that was perilously close to the surface. Earlene noticed that at 5'8", she was the tallest woman in the room, and Thanadir towered another half foot over her. To her astonishment, an elderly lady who was even smaller than Lorna (was that possible?) but incredibly spry in appearance came storming in with the use of a cane. While she was slightly hunched over, she made up for this in speed of movement. "Sit 'im down, Mary, do I look like I can climb a ladder to get a good look at 'im?" The other women behind her had expressions that clearly meant "here we go."

Earlene intervened smoothly. "Perhaps we could sit and introduce ourselves?" she suggested, gesturing for Thanadir to resume his seat. "I am Earlene, and this is Thanadir, we are very pleased to be here."

The wiry elderly lady marched on full steam ahead. "I'm Mallaidh. Over here's Rhiannon, then Aurnia, and Síomha." Each of the ladies received a gesture from her cane. Her bright eyes glanced at Earlene, then quickly moved on to Thanadir, who she looked up and down several times. "Sure God, you're beautiful," she said, before shuffling over to what was clearly her favorite chair with remarkable speed, leaving the poor elf baffled. "I am pleased to meet you," he said, though whether he was addressing Mallaidh or all of them in general was difficult to ascertain.

Earlene had never heard this many old Irish names all in one place before, and was more than a little grateful that on account of her ancestry, they were not completely alien to her. As the rest of them were still working on which chair they wanted, Síomha was already digging into her large bag to bring out square after square that she'd apparently been working on since their last meeting.

"For the love of God, Síomha, can't you wait until after we've had a cup of tea?" barked Aurnia, rolling her eyes. Turning her gaze squarely to Earlene, she said, "I have to give you a mother's apology. I'm ashamed t'say that the worthless gobshite that ruined your wedding party's my Sean. I want you to know that when I found out what'd happened, I sent ice water down 'is pants the next morning t' wake the bugger up for work," she said smugly. "He'll not be feeling 'is shillelagh for a month, if I've anything t' say about it."

Now it was Earlene's turn to be baffled. "I, er, thank you," she replied with her eyes wide, deciding that anything but brevity could only make this worse. Then again…"Thank you very much," she grinned.

"We gals have t' stick t'gether," she said with a wicked grin and a wink. "Present company excepted, of course," as she glanced at Thanadir. Earlene hoped a great hope that the entire exchange had sailed over the seneschal's head. And as Hunnie Bunnie was right back in his lap, there was a reasonable possibility that this was indeed the case.

"I'm thrilled to meet you both," said Rhiannon. "We were out of town the night of the party, and I was terribly disappointed to miss it. It isn't every day that we meet someone from New York City and...one of the fair folk," she said, clearly in awe of Thanadir. Indeed, most of the room seemed more or less mesmerized by him; he was the unquestionable focus of attention.

"I am happy to be here," said Thanadir carefully, having no understanding that his lovely eyes were currently a great source of enjoyment. "But I still do not understand what a quilt is, exactly. Would someone tell me?"

Earlene winced; she hadn't realized.

Mary heard the question as she swept into the room bearing a large tray with teapots, cups, saucers, and biscuits, setting it down on the sizable coffee table. "Oh! You poor dear, that won't do. Give me a moment, and the rest of you, have at the tea."

In less than a minute, she returned bearing an armload of folded quilts. Without hesitation, she deposited them in Earlene's arms, and shook out the top one in front of him so that he could see it, then handing it to him while she unfolded another. Even though Earlene's knowledge of this craft was pitiful, she could see that these were very beautiful specimens, works of art. Thanadir gasped softly as his eyes widened. _Apparently in eighteen thousand years elves hadn't thought of quilts_ , she mused.

"These are beautiful," he said with great sincerity.

Mary's face split in a smile that made her look as if she might burst.

"We have pictures of all the ones we've done, Mr. Thanadir," Rhiannon said politely, reaching into her own bag to pull out a compact but thick scrapbook that she reached over to hand him. "Here."

Slightly miffed that his attention was drawn from her quilts, Mary nonetheless graciously smiled and re-folded her creations, stacking them once again in Earlene's arms before whisking them away.

As all the others by now had poured their tea, Earlene prepared a cup for Thanadir, who was doing his best to look at the quilt pictures while the cat continued to knead at him. Knowing he would probably like them, she placed two biscuits on his saucer and put a little sugar in his tea as well, before pouring her own. Droopy, in the meantime, had lost interest in the elf's hair and was half-asleep, limbs dangling down on either side of Thanadir's head.

When Earlene noticed Mallaidh pouring liberally from a metal flask into her teacup, she quickly had to sip at her own beverage to hide her smile.

Mallaidh, never shy about her love of drink, caught Earlene's action and didn't bother restraining her own smile. "Young ones these days, they feel they've got to hide it if they drink anything more than beer in the day," she said, capping the flask and settling it back into her quilting bag. "I don't see why. Oh, will you give over, you monstrosity." Lifting her cane, she leaned over to poke at Wobbles, who looked ready to start chewing on Thanadir's boot. That cat wasn't dissuaded in the slightest – at least, not until she poked him in the gut. Then he gave her a halfhearted glare and went to flop at Earlene's feet, but at least he left her shoes alone.

Poor Thanadir...it was subtle, him being an elf and all, but Mallaidh knew a deer-in-the-headlights look when she saw one, and figured it had to be partly down to the cat passed out on his lap. She'd never seen the creatures take so fast and so well to a new person, and it was just. So. Cute. The Lorna-woman had stopped by the pub on her lunch hour to warn her that under no circumstances were any of them to touch Thanadir beyond shaking his hand, and that if anyone pinched his cheek, there would be hell to pay over it. It hadn't seemed like a necessary warning at the time, but now, looking at him, the urge was quite strong. There was something...not cherubic about him, his face was too angular for that; the proper term was probably doe-eyed. It was bloody difficult to think of him as being God knew how many thousands of years old – not when he looked younger than Mallaidh's grandson.

Síomha, heedless of Aurnia's warning, brought out her squares anyway. Bright and colorful, like all the rest of her clothing, she already had enough for a quilt and a half, yet she kept making more. "Once you get good at it, you'll be wanting to make them out'v fabric that means something to you, if you follow. I saved all my kids' baby clothes and made a quilt out'v them, and this one's old things I had when I first married." Her house was too tidy for her to properly be called a hoarder, but she was perilously close. "Once you're done, bring them all here so we can show you how to put it together. It's harder than you might think, the first time out the gate. If you've not got your own machine, Mary's always got time and a spare one." Earlene might at least have passing familiarity with a machine, even if she wasn't a hobby sewer, but Thanadir likely had no idea what Síomha was talking about, the poor dear. She had to resist the urge to pat him on top of the head.

"Lorna gave me a sewing machine," he said softly. "It is very nice. I believe it belonged to her grandmother."

"Grandmother?" said Síomha incredulously. "You don't mean an old treadle, do you?"

Thanadir looked at Earlene helplessly, because to him, the machine was a complete marvel and all he could ever imagine wanting. And what was she supposed to say? She was hardly going to volunteer that anything else was worthless to him, on account of their Halls not exactly being wired for electricity. _Oh here goes nothing_ , she thought. "Thanadir has always enjoyed hand-sewing, so Lorna's gift was something he appreciated. Though if you'd like to show him, I'm sure he'd enjoy very much seeing what a modern machine can do."

A look of sudden rapture overcame Rhiannon's face. "Oh! Well, there's Pfaff, and Singer, and of course if you really want to get serious, Bernina is…"

"Sure God Rhiannon, the poor elf doesn't need a priest's homily on things he's not ever seen before. Why don't we finish our tea and show the lad how to make a square and how squares are put together? He'd probably appreciate understanding how a quilt is assembled, if he didn't even know what one was," ordered Aurnia. "And you can show him an electric machine while you're at it." Earlene had already decided she liked this forthright woman best, who seemed to be the least peculiar and the most in command of the oddities of the rest of the group.

Thanadir smiled and nodded while tentatively nibbling on his biscuit, which he did appear to like after all.

Earlene regarded him with increasing fondness. _I'm making him cupcakes tomorrow, and I don't care what Thranduil says about it. And then he's going to watch Swan Lake with me._ She'd already made up her mind, and that was that.

Wobbles chose that moment to bite the tip of Earlene's shoe, earning himself a poke in the side from Mallaidh's cane. The cat decided it was a far more interesting chew-toy, and could gnaw away all he liked. The three were spoiled beyond all belief, but easily distracted...more or less. The other two seemed pretty determined to stay with Thanadir, shedding assiduously all over his pretty...tunic, or whatever it was called. At least neither were eating his hair anymore.

Mary bustled in with more cream and sugar, as well as several books of patterns. By now all the quilters didn't need one, but Earlene and Thanadir might well want to get some ideas. Her hand actually itched to pat him on the head, but Lorna's warning - or at least, her expression while giving it - was not easily ignored. Mary wondered how Earlene managed to resist the urge, given she was probably around him fairly often. (Just what was his job description, anyway? He'd been such a help after Sean just had to come in and groped poor Earlene like he was some kind of city eejit with no manners.) Earlene didn't yet know it, but her reaction had impressed the hell out of the villagers, who wouldn't have expected an American to be quite so...spirited...in retaliating. That had been a kick that would have made a footballer proud. They'd tell her so someday, once enough time had passed that she could look back on the incident without wincing.

"Now you two don't be shy," she said, setting down her tray on an end table. "If you're wanting anything, tell me. I'll not have my guests going hungry."

Mallaidh, sorting out her spools of thread, snorted. "She means it," she warned the two. "She'll stuff you 'til you burst if you let her." Which, in Thanadir's case...Earlene looked healthy and perfect, but Thanadir could stand to gain a few pounds. He was a very slender-looking lad, almost delicate...he needed to eat an entire sheep. Possibly two.

Earlene politely took one of the pattern books onto her own lap and gave another one to Thanadir, showing him surreptitiously via gestures how he might use the book to crowd out Hunnie Bunnie without being entirely obvious. Somewhat miffed about being displaced, the gigantic cat now came over and was serial rubbing itself against Earlene's trousers. But if it gave Thanadir a break, it was a worthwhile sacrifice. She could not help but notice that the meticulous elf's dark-colored clothing was now coated in fur...but such were the vagaries of interacting with the human world. And, he seemed genuinely fascinated. His lips were slightly parted, and his eyes were glued to the glossy colored photographs. It was as if she could see him thinking, and she wondered when the first elven-made quilt would appear...or how beautiful it would be. The pictures were interesting in their own way, but she could not presently fathom the level of devotion that was accorded to this hobby.

Soon enough the ladies took the party into another room, which she had not seen, though this did not stop Mary from bringing little tidbits of food on a plate to Thanadir at the most inopportune times. Mallaidh raised her eyebrows on more than one occasion, but decided it was never obnoxious enough to warrant intervention - though she did have several opportunities to poke the cats again. The three monstrosities seemed to have claimed Thanadir for their own, though they were happy enough to be distracted by Earlene periodically, and were trying desperately to mark their territory with fuzz and drool in equal amounts.

As it turned out, much to Earlene's approval, the ladies were working on a project (two, actually) for charity. There was a pensioner in town for whom they wished one smaller quilt to be a holiday gift, and another much more ambitious undertaking was destined to be raffled off to raise starting money for a proposed seasonal community garden. That these women would turn their efforts to such kindness deeply impressed Earlene, who made a mental note to try and learn more about all of what was actually going on in this town.

After they had determined the current goals by committee, they began to piece together some of the squares with the use of a sewing machine that made Earlene's laptop seem simple by comparison. In the meantime, someone had put some smaller scraps and a needle and thread into Thanadir's hands, and soon all gathered were marveling at the precision and speed by which the elf neatly hand-stitched the sections together as he had been shown to do.

The cats dutifully followed everyone into what was clearly the quilting room, and in sequence were trying to climb onto the worktable. Earlene watched in morbid fascination as the relatively fragile worktable creaked dangerously each time a cat jumped up. Mary, clearly believing it was the cutest thing ever, sighed in rapture, at which Mallaidh rolled her eyes. She decided to risk the question.

"Mary, are those cats...are they a special breed? I cannot ever recall seeing housecats that are so big before."

"Oh! You have never heard of Ragdolls? All of mine come from Blackberry Hills Ragdolls, and they in turn are members of the United Kingdom Ragdoll Breeders as well as the Governing Council of Cat Fanciers. We had to travel all the way to Wexford to get them, and on more than one trip! Honey Badger (as it turned out, Hunnie Bunnie was a nickname) and Droopy are littermates and..."

Earlene was instantly sorry she had asked, because the next ten minutes were a breathless explanation of the special charms of the Ragdoll breed, as well as information on the pedigree of her furry darlings. Though Earlene felt slightly guilty, she mentioned that while they were very lovely, she thought Thranduil might be allergic to cats. Which was complete and utter nonsense, but if it freed her from talking more on this topic, it would be worth it.

By the time they were making their "thank-yous" and "good lucks", no fewer than four instructional books had been placed into Thanadir's arms, as well as the loan of a seam ripper, a rotary cutter, and a quilting ruler. He politely but insistently declined the offer of a large volume of batting, stating that he had his own materials.

Soon enough, all was tucked into a bag and safely stowed in Earlene's trailer. They were the second to leave, after Rhiannon, who breezily claimed that she still had far too much work to manage for her medical transcribing business and left walking down the street while still chattering to herself. Thanadir could probably have stayed longer, but she thought it would be better to keep this first visit a little on the shorter side. And with a small degree of selfishness, she felt like she had done her duty to the Woodland Realm for an evening. She used the excuse of needing the ladies' room to allow everyone a few more minutes with Thanadir and to avoid the impression that she was dragging him away. And when she returned from taking her time with the necessities of life, the seneschal appeared to be awaiting rescue.

Mallaidh weighed Lorna's warning against her own inclinations, and settled for patting Thanadir lightly on the cheek, calling him a "good lad" and insisting that when he came back, she'd bring him a rubber apron in defense against all the cat drool. When Earlene emerged, Mailladh leaned in close. "If you make a circle'v duct tape with the sticky side out, you'll get all that hair off your clothes easy enough. I've told Mary she either needs to brush those things or shave them, but that'll never happen. If I was her, I'd take a Hoover to them."

"I heard that, Mallaidh Burke," Mary called. "You'll go nowhere near my cats with any kind'v...equipment."

"They're balls'v fluff with legs," Mallaidh called back. "And drool."

After unlocking her bicycle, Earlene walked it slowly away, once Thanadir indicated his readiness. The meeting had been two and a half hours, and certainly seemed to have given him a great deal on which to reflect. Earlene did not wish to disturb him, as he seemed lost in his thoughts, but one question needed asking.

"Thanadir, how would you feel about stopping for a pint of Guinness? I would like to say hello and see if Lorna is in, but if you prefer to return right away I am glad to go with you now."

It was obvious that the request surprised him a little, but with the flawless decorum she had feared he might display, he acceded to her wishes at once. She wondered quite a lot if he actually wanted to do this, but as he did not seem find her request completely distasteful, it would be better not to interrogate him. He held the pub door open for her, and not for the last time, her heart filled with gratitude to find herself living among such a gracious and kind individuals. As she briefly met the seneschal's eyes, she could not help but realize that she had more affection and regard for him than she'd ever had for her own brother, not that that took any doing; she had more regard for a lump of clay than for her brother. Thanadir would always be family to her, now, and it felt like this was what she'd somehow been meant to have. Thanking him, she walked to the bar and ordered two pints from John, placing a ten euro note on the bar which he refused. She arched an eyebrow in query.

"You overpaid me by about six pints' worth the night of the party," he said, placing the filled glasses in front of her. "Fair's fair."

Nodding her head in thanks for his honesty, she handed one glass to Thanadir. "Can you see if Lorna is here?" she asked, knowing that his eyes would have adjusted to the dim interior almost immediately.

"Yes, over in the corner."

Truth be told, Lorna had been rather nervous about the quilting party, but neither Earlene nor Thanadir looked disturbed or upset, so her warning to the old ladies must have actually worked. She raised her mug when Thanadir looked her way, silently grateful his second experience with humans other than her and Ian had been a positive one. After the disaster than had been the party, it was crucial that he see that most humans were not like Sean. The old ladies were harmless enough, even if they were prone to gossiping. They weren't likely to do or say anything upsetting - weird, yes; upsetting, probably not. Little old Irish ladies were pretty good practice for dealing with the outside world...even if three gigantic monstrosities masquerading as cats were involved. Seriously, those things were bowling balls covered in fur, and had what seemed to her an unnatural fixation with trying to eat long hair.

"I see you've survived," she said, not bothering to hide her grin. "I hope none'v those old biddies pinched your cheek, Thanadir." Mallaidh was the one she'd worried about; as the eldest, and given her drinking habits, Lorna had thought she'd be the one who might throw etiquette to the wind and pinch anyway, warning or no warning. (Seriously, though; Thanadir really did just have that kind of face. Whenever he and Thranduil went out into the real world to get their physicals for their identity papers, the poor elf might have to fend off people who found him too adorable for words).

Earlene and Thanadir seated themselves. "We did. I will confess that even though I know nothing about it, it was interesting. And that they make the quilts to give out to others, that's lovely to know. I just might have to buy tickets for their Christmas raffle; you never know...and what they are working on is going to be an art piece in its own right. They are a lovely group of characters and…" her voice dropped to a whisper "those cats are another thing entirely." They chatted on for a few minutes more, with Earlene assuring her that she intended to have Niamh's paperwork for citizenship completed by the day after tomorrow at the very latest. Knowing that dinner wasn't going to cook itself, though, they said their "good lucks", finished their Guinness and left.

Thanadir held the door for her once again, and this time Earlene took the time to put her cloak on; it had cooled off quite a lot more now that the sun had been set for some time. And while she was delayed with settling it on herself, she felt convinced she heard something. Standing still, she listened more carefully in order to hear without the noise of the rustling fabric, and this time it was unmistakable. "Mew." And it was quite close. Looking down, she saw a little head poke around the nearby telephone pole; it was a kitten, perhaps twelve weeks, by the looks of it. The tiny creature appeared cold and unhappy, and Earlene immediately picked it up in order to get a better look. It did not look terribly cared for. Glancing up at Thanadir, she said, "Excuse me, please, this will just take a moment."

Marching back inside, she held out the little creature to John. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Aye, it's been lurking about here for a few weeks now. Always begging. There's a stray that looks quite a lot like it, my guess is, that's the mum."

She looked down at the little orange tabby, riffling through its fur to make sure it wasn't full of fleas or anything else that would be a cause for immediate intervention. "Well, it can't stay out in the cold with no food. I'm taking it with me. And if you hear it belongs to someone, I'll gladly return it, but I'll not leave the little thing out here."

John raised his eyebrows and said only "Aye," rather slowly. He didn't think it was anyone's and given that it was hanging around his pub, she was doing him what likely amounted to a big favor.

In moments, the little creature had disappeared deep into her sweaters and cloak, where its presence could no longer be observed. Truth be told, she had tucked it into one half of her bra, which was of the sort that stretched easily. The stillness and contented purring told her that for now, it was happy enough. Returning to Thanadir, they set out for home. Except this time, he insisted on pushing the bicycle, and giving her his arm to hold. Happily, she accepted the courtesy and decided to ask if he had enjoyed the quilting meeting.

"Yes, I did. They are not like elves, but they were kind. I liked that they are working to give to others. And it was interesting, to see another human dwelling besides yours. But is it usual, for humans to keep cats in their homes?"

Earlene laughed. "Yes, it is usual. Some people make their pets into children. I would say that Mary has done this. There are many kinds of animals that people keep as pets, but cats and dogs are the most common. Did you mind the cats very much?" _I might as well test the waters_ , she reasoned.

"I did not mind. But, the one that...how do you call it, when water runs out of the mouth?"

"Drool. Drooling."

"I did not like the drool so much."

"I think we can agree on that. The good news is, not every cat does that."

"They are not all the same?" he asked, confused.

Now she paid closer attention. "Thanadir, you have never kept a pet before?"

"No. It is not something usual for elves."

Gazing up at him, Earlene could hardly process this. It was true that she had not kept pets from college onward, but they'd had cats, when she lived at home with her family. And gran had always had a cadre of mousers and ratters and a few that generally lazed about. Her choices had been far more about the demands of her life, and had little to do with not wanting a pet.

Thanadir saw her expression and asked softly, with a hint of amusement, "This displeases you?"

Embarrassed to have been staring at him, she quickly looked away. "No, Your Excellency, it does...I mean, No, Thanadir, I did not intend to imply…." She stopped, before the sentence could go more off track. "Nothing about you displeases me," she said finally, wondering why someone usually so eloquent was suddenly incapable of speaking coherently. "It is only that to a human, it is hard to imagine living for thousands of years and never having the enjoyment of a pet."

"I see." His face was filled with genuine mirth, and she was now trying to recall if she had ever seen him display this before. The King's most trusted servant was turning out to be immensely complicated. Adjusting her hold on his arm, she sighed. It would likely take her the rest of her mortal life to even begin to understand him, not to mention the one to whom she belonged.

When they clattered into the barn, Thranduil met them, and the two ellyn carried the groceries. To her surprise, her furniture had been changed, but she had no time to appreciate it just now. Charmingly, that the King was showing his seneschal how to put the food away...but she had other priorities. Earlene did, however, thank him that everything in the home now appeared to be far more as she wished it to be. Preheating the oven, and reaching into the chicken they'd purchased, brought out the giblets and at once set about mincing them whilst cooking the neck in some water on the stovetop. Only after this was cared for, did she remove her cloak. Earlene gave him credit for his powers of observation, because it did not take him long to notice.

"Meluieg, what has happened to your...bosom?"

Thanadir's eyes were now also drawn to the discussion, and being the clever elf that he was, he smiled and turned away to his computer, deducing right away. Turning her back, she fished the little one out of her sweater, and held it up to her husband.

"It was warmer in there. And if you will kindly hold it, I will finish getting its dinner and some other necessities ready." The kitten was placed in Thranduil's hands, where he looked at it in disbelief, staring back at the tiny creature as it emitted another pitiful "Mew."

Earlene 'tsk tsk'd' him. "You cannot stare at a kitten as if you are considering eating it for dinner, Thranduil. It wants to be petted. Like this." She arranged his limbs so that he was holding the kitten against his body, and showed him how to scratch and pet the fluffball, which erupted in purrs. The King's eyes widened. Thranduil was not often speechless but he was clearly struggling with some thought or opinion which he thought better of voicing. She saw this, but chose to completely ignore it. "I do not understand. You must know how to show affection to a kitten?" Suddenly much happier from the attention, the kitten batted at the King's hair.

A strangled noise from across the room drew their eyes to a sight that just two weeks ago she would never have believed could happen. Thanadir was openly laughing.

"Tsk," said Earlene in exasperation. "Elves!"

Not much afterward, Earlene had a small saucer on the floor with warm broth and warmed minced liver, and the little creature gobbled at it enthusiastically. Tomorrow she would have to return to town for a little canned cat food, and later tonight she could order some basic supplies on . There were two more things needed, a little bed and a litterbox. She approached Thanadir, explaining what was wanted and begging him to procure something like a small piece of fleece, some clean but unspun wool, or a pelt, and a basket of some kind. He grinned and nodded, taking his new quilting supplies with him, leaving with a promise of a good dinner on his return. There was a box in the pantry that could be modified for a temporary cat box, and there was plenty of loose dry soil on the barn floor, all of which could be cared for once dinner was underway.

The chicken was swiftly prepared for roasting, a salad of mixed greens and apples with a balsamic mustard dressing appeared, and in gratitude to Thanadir, she stirred together sugar, special high-quality cocoa, cornstarch and the rest, and had a pot of chocolate pudding bubbling on the stove that she poured into individual bowls and covered with plastic wrap to cool...but not before she sprinkled chocolate chips over each serving. All this time, she glanced at her husband. As the minutes passed his expression softened as he rubbed his finger against the little creature, until the corners of his mouth began to tug in a smile. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke. "I take it that you intend to keep...him," he said, after taking the formation of the cat's external anatomy into account.

"Yes," she replied evenly. "Unless someone in town reports him missing, which I very much doubt will be the case, he has no home and no care."

"And?" he asked, smiling, seeing that there was more in her mind, and at least determining that she would not escape without full disclosure. He came up behind her to draw her against him as she finished peeling potatoes that she intended to mash.

"And gran always had orange tabby cats at her farm in New York," she replied softly as she glanced up at him.

His eyes were shining with good humor, and he kissed her head softly. "Very well, meluieg."

Feeling a little braver, she decided to hazard a question. "What did Thanadir think was so funny? Why was he laughing? I didn't know he could laugh," she noted.

With a face bright with fond recollections, he chuckled. "I believe my seneschal is recalling when Legolas was an elfling, and had a penchant for wishing to make pets out of assorted forest creatures. Alassëa only encouraged this behavior, leaving me in the position of having to impose reason. While Thanadir would never speak his mind in those days, he derived no small amount of amusement at watching me have to tell my young son why he could not keep a porcupine, or a fawn, in the Palace. Among other things. That you would bring home a stray creature is, for him, a connection to a fond memory."

"But he told me tonight that he had never kept a pet, and that it was not usual for elves to keep cats or dogs in their homes."

"It was not usual," the King agreed. "The world was very different, and mostly elves have never had a desire to keep animals captive in any way. My son did not intend to do this; he was very young and did not yet understand. Which is why I spent a great deal of time returning forest animals to their own mothers," he said ruefully. "Yet I can see that much has changed, and that these creatures are now meant to live alongside humans. What will you call him?"

Tilting her head as she dropped the potatoes into a pot of water, she considered. "I do not yet know. Gran used to say that if you wait a bit, they manage to name themselves." Recalling that kittens often needed to...eliminate...after eating, she whisked him off with her to the barn, in order to complete a makeshift litterbox. Perhaps she need not be bothering, she reasoned, as she watched the little orange ball enthusiastically dig a hole in the loose barn soil before happily squatting over it. The smell that greeted her nostrils reminded her to invest in very good quality cat litter, and that she was quite content that this had not just occurred inside of her house. Sooooo cute, she thought. Sooooooo cute.

 _Meluieg, your potatoes are boiling over_ , she heard.

Damn. _Turn down the flame Thranduil, please._ Whisking up the kitten and the box, she hurriedly trotted back to the kitchen. Returning the kitten to her husband, she washed her hands thoroughly and resumed her focus on the meal. Thranduil sat down with it, where it promptly kneaded his abdomen for a few minutes before curling into a purring ball and falling asleep in the crook of his elbow.

"Do your healing talents include animals, Thranduil? It might have worms and other parasites, will need vaccinations, and when the time comes, neutering. I should ask if I will need to find a veterinarian."

Skritching it under its tiny chin with a finger, he smiled. "I will make a bargain with you, wife. I will confess to you that I can care for all of these matters, if you will promise not to mention it to Thanadir. I do not ask you to lie to him if asked directly, but if you would agree not to tell him outright."

"Of course. I think you forget sometimes, I am sworn to do as you ask," she teased. "But may I ask why?"

"I fear for his health if he is given too many more reasons to laugh."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled at the non-answer. "It is perfectly acceptable to admit that you two have a rivalry that goes back to ten thousand zillion years ago. And besides, he is beautiful when he laughs. Do you know, I think he actually teased me about something, tonight? You did not tell me he had a sense of humor."

Thranduil frowned. "I am not certain that I knew. He is experiencing many new things. Perhaps there is a side to him that had nowhere to express itself, in all this long time, until now."

"I cannot help but think that it is exposure to us, that plays a part. How we humans can be anything but amusing to you elves, is beyond me. And Thanadir had a very liberal dose of human foibles, this evening."

Searching his wife's memories, he began to chuckle, which morphed into outright laughter as the antics of Mailladh and the cats came into recollection. "Surely this little animal will not grow to such a size?" he asked.

"It seems doubtful that he is anything special, breed-wise, so I would guess he will not be nearly so big. Those cats were something out of the ordinary. I will spare you the details." She placed the potatoes into the food processor with salted butter melted into hot milk, to make the mashed potatoes. Stirring in grated cheese and chives, she placed them in a casserole dish covered lightly with foil, and added them to the oven along with the roasting chicken. Done at last, she joined her husband on the sofa, which now faced the television in a normal fashion. "Thank you again, for this change in the furniture. I appreciate this, very much." As she gazed over at the table and chairs, she reasoned that they could eat there tonight and christen it. But soon her attention was attracted back to the kitten, that yawned adorably. Leaning over as she caressed it with her finger, she kissed her husband. "I appreciate this, too," she said. While she'd known there was little chance he would ultimately object, he could have chosen to be a pill about it.

"Don't you need to change your clothing before dinner, meluieg?" he murmured as their kisses deepened.

"Thanadir is…?"

"Far enough away for what I have in mind. And besides, I saw what you endured for his sake. It is only right that I reward you for taking such good care of my seneschal," he said playfully, pulling her along with him to the bedroom. She was instructed to do nothing but hold the kitten, and had to admit afterward that he managed to make that assignment more enjoyable than she could have guessed was possible. Fortunately she had enough time to rearrange herself before Thanadir returned, bearing the requested items. Which of course, he had already made into a cat bed, having accurately guessed why she wanted them. Taking the kitten from her, he gently deposited it in his creation, at which point a crescendo of purrs came forth as it kneaded the soft lining before settling down to a final collapse.

"Tail", said Thanadir, touching the diminutive little paws.

"Tailig", said Thranduil.

"That's a brilliant name," Earlene murmured. "Your word for 'feet' is 'tail'...it's so silly it fits perfectly. Thank you, Thanadir, for making the little bed."

The ellyn were served dinner at the table for the first time, and Thanadir received the heapingly large bowl of pudding with a squeeze to his shoulder from a grateful Earlene. If extra whipped cream made it onto that bowl as well, it did not matter to her. Afterward she worked on the mix for cupcakes and made a buttercream frosting while Thranduil insisted on doing the dishes. "I would like to have Thanadir for two and a half hours tomorrow. May I?" she asked him.

"You are going to spoil him, Earlene," the King said with a smile. "But yes, you may. He will enjoy what you have in mind, I think. May I watch for awhile too?"

"Asking is not necessary, you know that. And I enjoy spoiling him. He has cared for you since before the human race invented the spoon. You cannot fault me if I want to thank him for that in the only way I have to show him gratitude." She transferred the frosting into a bowl and covered it, saving the spatula.

"I do not fault you," he said, drying his hands. "I love you for it, though perhaps I do not always express it very well."

Thanadir looked up from his computer, having registered that he was somehow the topic of conversation. Earlene brought him the spatula and mixing bowl to enjoy. "I am sorry Thanadir," she said to him. "I did not mean to be speaking about you in front of you; that was not polite. Please forgive me."

"I do not understand what was being said," the seneschal said, trying to catch up but content enough to have the extra frosting. "I forgive you, for whatever it was," he said with humor.

"I am not entirely certain either," she chuckled, bringing her own laptop to sit next to him. "Except that, I am making you a sweet treat for tomorrow, and was asking for the time to watch a ballet with you. Maybe after lunch, if it suits you?"

"I would like that," he said. "What is it about?"

"It is about a prince who goes hunting to shoot a swan. But before he does, he realizes the swans are really women that have been transformed by an evil magician. The story tells how he saves them." She replied to him while ordering a proper cat box and litter online, before beginning to research quality kitten food. Once she felt satisfied as to the information, she closed her computer. "Thranduil, I did not ask you how your afternoon went; did you watch the videos of the war?"

"Two of them," he said, finishing with the dishes and joining her. "Enough to begin seeing that war is very different now."

"And that was a hundred years ago, and is nearly ancient history by our standards," she said softly. "Would you like to watch more? I have no mind for studying tonight, and if I don't watch something, I am going to bed."

"You may watch what you wish, meluieg, but I have seen enough of war for one day." Absentmindedly, he handed her the remote control.

Browsing with no particular goal in mind, she saw something that looked like it might be interesting. It was for children, but sometimes those were very entertaining. _"He's Shaun the sheep, he's Shaun the sheep, he even mucks around with those who cannot bleat…"_ Within five minutes she was laughing, right after seeing that the absurdity was set in a place called Mossy Bottom Farm, run by an incompetent and half-blind farmer. Not many minutes later, it was obvious that the elves were watching along with her. Thranduil pulled her against him, and they all enjoyed a quiet evening filled with laughter at simple humor.

The following morning Earlene rose early. Thranduil woke her with kisses, and promised to return soon. Tail (she somehow thought Tailig did not sound nearly as interesting) was awake and hungry in the bathroom, where she kept him in order to minimize a potential for mishaps. He was fed before anything else, loudly mewing his displeasure at having been kept waiting that long, and she preheated the oven to bake the cupcakes. In among this, she began to work on the paperwork for Niamh. By the time the litterbox had been christened, the batter was in the oven, and the checklist of things she did not know about the ellyn and about which she had made line item notes was growing.

Cooling cupcakes on the counter and a cup of tea later took her feet outside to where the elves had been preparing the garden; she had not seen it yet. When she arrived at the location, she was fascinated. Rows had been marked, and trellises created, but not normal ones. Curving pieces of wood formed the basis for everything and to her fascination, she could not find a right angle. Stones had been brought from somewhere, and laid down in a pathway. It was a skeleton, but a very attractive skeleton, and nothing she ever would have thought of or considered. What was here so far reflected nature, and the elegance and love of beauty she had come to associate with those to whom she had joined her life.

While she stared at it and sipped her tea, an arm slipped around her waist.

"My King, one of these days you will frighten me out of my shoes doing that," she chided, taking his hand briefly before sliding her arm around him.

"Do I need to remind you that you are not to call me that, here?" he said gently but firmly.

"No, but as we are not in my house, I thought I could afford one reverential slip of my tongue, my Lord. Oops, I believe that makes two of them. All I need to do is call Thanadir 'Your Excellency' and my morning will be complete." Earlene looked up to see him just beginning to glower and giggled. "Forgive me, Thranduil. I have a weakness for teasing you, sometimes. I will do as you ask."

His face softened on hearing her words and broke into a smile. "I suppose it is what I deserve, for what I made you endure when first we met. I cringe now at the memory, meluieg. There is nothing to forgive."

"Our situation never will be usual. Do not hold the past against yourself, Thranduil. We are moving forward, and to that end, there are questions I must ask you for Niamh's paperwork. Come inside. And perhaps you will tell me about the state of your stomach, and whether Thanadir wishes breakfast."

"Thanadir is bringing a basket of food from the Halls for us within the next half-hour; if you would be content to make us tea that is all we will require."

"Very well. What we need to discuss is, what sort of tale we are inventing for your non-elven lives. Humans have things like birthdays, parents, family, and life stories. I'm afraid we are going to have to invent those things for you in a manner we can all keep straight."

There being nothing on the books for that day, Lorna decided to head out to check on Earlene, and see how she and the elves were getting on with the paperwork. Even now, Lorna was rather relieved the quilting party hadn't turned out to be a total disaster.

She downed a mug of tea, and was just finishing braiding her hair when Mick, who she suspected had already been awake for hours, came in to dig through the fridge. "You smell like oil," she said. "I thought there wasn't anything to do today."

"There's not," he said, pulling out a Styrofoam container. It held half a pub sandwich, and she fought not to wrinkle her nose. Those were good when fresh; otherwise, not so much. "What're you up to?"

"I'm headed back out to Earlene's," she said. "Check on a few things."

Mick hesitated. "Lorna, what do you do out there?" he asked. "What're they doing out there?"

"Learning about Earth," she said, which was both vague and completely true. "There's a lot'v history to catch up on, even before you get to the modern world. Earlene's taught them to use computers, and I know they watch movies. I taught Thranduil how to make French toast a few days ago."

Mick tried to picture that, and completely failed. He simply couldn't do it. "Tell me you didn't throw it across the kitchen," he said, pained.

"Of course I did," she said, stuffing her right foot into her boot and lacing it up. "Earlene brought Thanadir to the quilting club yesterday, and they both left covered in cat fuzz. They're ancient and immortal, Mick, but they're still people."

"I know," he said, "but it's still hard to reconcile, you know? I mean, look at them...how can you just treat them like, y'know, normal people?"

It was something of a good question, actually. "When I met them, that's what I thought they were," she said. "I didn't believe the lot'v you for a moment; I thought they were just tall, kind'v creepy humans. Whenever they get back into town, you'll get used to them." She jammed her left foot into the boot, doing up the laces. "I'm off for a bit - d'you need anything, when I'm on my way back?"

"I'm good," he said. "Lorna - be careful, okay?"

She snorted. "Careful? There's nothing to be careful about, eejit," she said, lightly flicking his ear before picking up Gran's knitting bag. "You'll see that eventually."

She headed out into the morning sun, meandering toward the forest. There was no point in hurrying, so she took her time. Shane had all the pictures she'd taken off her phone, though his response had been a large amount of near-gibberish mixed with swearing. Soon enough, she was going to have to take a trip to Dublin so she could prove she was actually serious about this whole thing. That, and she really, really wanted to see his face when she implied that the elves were actually an ancient pirate family. Thranduil would probably get a kick out of it, and he could show it to Earlene and Thanadir.

Earlene felt like her head was spinning. "So you are telling me that you do not know your birthdays, because elves only celebrate aur-en-onnad? I understand the Sindarin words, Thranduil but you cannot mean…."

"Yes, we can mean just that, meluieg. We celebrate the day an elfling is conceived in the womb. And since pregnancy is for one year, it more or less amounts to the same thing. We will understand that from now on, in the human world we will use the term 'birthday.' I have looked up the calendars and mine would be your March 30th. Thanadir's would be October 28th."

Earlene made the notes. What she was going to say about schools, residences, on and on, she had no idea. The vague twinge of a headache was starting when a firm knock came at the door. Raising her head, she felt vaguely hopeful.

"It is Lorna," said Thranduil, beginning to rise.

"I will get the door," said Earlene, all but flying out of her chair. _Anything to get a minute away from this exercise in creative writing_ , she thought. It felt like no small amount of pressure, because whatever story was concocted had to be a very good one; airtight, plausible, and one that could stand up to awkward questions. Pulling the door open, she greeted her friend. "Your timing could not be better, she said, almost pulling her inside. I'm trying to work up science fiction for filling out Niamh's forms and I think my head might explode. Can I get you tea?" she asked. "I've always thought that the best lies have as much truth mixed in as possible. So we have their version of birthdays, but what I'm to say for where they went to school, if they went to school, where they lived...ugh."

"Tea'd be lovely, thanks," Lorna said, giving Thranduil a wave. "I'd been thinking about that myself, actually. They can't have gone to proper school without having identification already, but I was thinking - and I realize how this sounds, but it's the best I've got - when I first saw the pair'v you, Thranduil, and found out how little you knew about the world, I thought you were part'v some cult in the woods. There still are a few people who like to live 'off the grid', so to speak, so they're self-educated, that sort'v thing. It'd explain anything outsiders might find an oddity, especially if you run across any human...eccentricities...that you're not familiar with." There was simply no way of getting around the fact that some outsiders were bound to find Thranduil and Thanadir really weird, but that would be a handy explanation.

Earlene perked up suddenly. "Thranduil, you told me a little once about...they are called Valar? Would you tell me more about what you believe, just an outline?"

Thranduil arched his eyebrows. "It is not complicated. Eru Ilúvatar, the father of all, first created the Ainur. The spirit beings. There were thirteen of them that were known as the Valar; one named Melko turned aside from the will of our father to evil. Other Ainur were created called the Maiar; they were lesser in power than the Valar. The Valar were the ones largely responsible for forming and shaping the earth according to the will of Eru. After the creation was complete, the Firstborn, the elves, were awakened. Much later came the Afterborn; the race of men. The Vala Aulë created the dwarves. Evil creatures such as the balrogs, the great spiders, orcs...those were the twistings of Melko or the shapes taken by Maiar who turned against Eru to serve Melko, who came to be known as Morgoth. And I am afraid that is ridiculously oversimplified, but you did ask for an outline."

Earlene looked at Lorna, who looked back at her. "To anyone modern, that would sound as out there as the Church of the Holy Doughnut, don't you think? And for them it is truth, no acting required. All we need is something to call it, and an explanation for where the rest of their...order... went to."

"It does," Lorna said. "And it sounds like the sort'v thing a practitioner would want to go off the grid to practice. Apparently there's all sorts like that in America, so there's no reason there shouldn't be in Ireland, too. Where the rest went, though...that'd be harder. I guess we could just say the rest want to stay off the grid, but have a couple who can deal with the outside world? I'm not sure that's even legal, but Niamh can give us some advice there." Both elves had very long hair; maybe she could spin them as some kind of neo-hippies as well - though of course that led her to picturing both of them in tie-dye and headbands, which was a mistake. It was a mental image she'd never be rid of, now.

"Thranduil, is what you believe...your...is 'gods' a proper term? Is there a word for your beliefs? And please excuse my questions in that, I do not know how to ask you in a way that shows respect for your...your…" she stopped talking and looked up at him helplessly.

He smiled and returned to the table with steaming tea mugs. "While I do not understand much about this world, I can see that there are belief systems here. I believe you call them 'religions'? So I understand the nature of your question. You want to know if this is a religion and if we have a name for what I have described to you?"

Earlene nodded.

"The answers are that it would not be disrespectful to say 'gods', no, and no. We do not think of this as a religion because...in the world of our youth this was not something we believed; this was reality. These were beings among whom we lived and with whom we spoke, not something told about only in a book or held in the minds of our people."

"OK," said Earlene slowly. "Then we will not try to call it anything, if you yourselves did not. And regarding the long hair; maybe we should just not say anything, at least on paper. It stands to reason that if they are so...apart from general society, that they just simply are this way. Call it cultural, if you will. And it is also reasonable that they would be looking to have help, namely us and Niamh, to care for things like forms and navigating the government process. How else would they know about any of it? They wouldn't. But I think there is one story we do have to invent. We can't tell the truth about how they returned to contact with our world, because that would draw attention to the rest of those living in the Halls. So what do we say?"

That was a damn good question. "I'd have to check with Niamh, to see if we could get away with being so vague, but maybe we could just say they decided they wanted to make contact with the rest'v the world. I'm not sure just how detailed an explanation the government'll be wanting, but since most'v the people who need to get identification this way are Travellers or the like, I'm guessing they've not got to provide a home address, sort'v thing. Niamh'll be able to help me hash out some kind'v cover story - I'll not have to tell her the actual story to get her help. So long as we pay her, she won't ask any questions at all."

"That suffices. And speaking of payment, at least in the States, solicitors require a retainer. If you find out what that sum is, I'll get it cared for. It is universal among my colleagues that money on the right side of the ledger really helps get actual work started. And the last place on this form is for 'relationships'. Thranduil, Thanadir, would you agree to be half-brothers for this purpose? It would mean you shared only a father or a mother. It is untrue, but would help your story seem as ordinary as possible."

Thranduil looked at his seneschal before speaking, who in turn bowed his submission in a way that was subtle...but Earlene saw. "We agree. For the sake of helping you remember, we will say that we are of the same father, but different mothers. As Thanadir truly is older, he will be the elder. Does that suffice?"

"Yes. The only thing remaining is your false ages. You look between thirty and forty years of age as humans. Might I suggest thirty and thirty three?"

Both ellyn nodded their assent.

With a few remaining scrawls of her pen, Earlene finished the last line of the forms, reviewed the pages once, and then folded them neatly, placed them in an envelope, and handed them to Lorna. "For better or worse, here we go."

"It'll work out," Lorna said, tucking the envelope into her bag. "Niamh's a sneaky one. I've got no idea what she wants for a retainer - she's not asked for one yet, and I'm guessing she won't, until she's actually got to put some work in." Privately, she wasn't so sure anyone was going to buy Thanadir as being thirty, but they could pretend. She'd thought him twenty at the absolute oldest when she'd first seen him, but he could have a gravity about him that would make him seem older to someone who thought he was human. "And I've sent Shane the pictures I took - I think I'll have to head to Dublin sooner or later, just to reassure him I'm actually serious about this." She paused, reluctant to say what she did next. "Earlene, while I'm reluctant to ask this'v you, my sister's got to know something about you if I'm going to work for you, so I'd really appreciate it if you could come out to Baile and meet her sometime. She's not as bad as I make her out to be, to anyone who isn't related to her. And if you've got time, maybe you could see my cottage." She wasn't even that bad to her family, either, for all it could sound like she was; Mairead was just bossy, but she was bossy because she loved people. She just had a damn odd way of showing it.

The sound of a truck on the road outside slowing and then leaving caught Earlene's attention. "Of course and, just give me a moment please, I think I just heard the postal delivery." She scuttled off to the door and returned a moment later, having looked through the letters and seeing one of particular interest. Back in the kitchen, she found a knife and slit one open, extracting the contents and reading carefully. Satisfied, she returned the papers to the envelope, minus a small card.

"I would be glad to travel to Baile, Lorna. But if I am not mistaken, and I apologize for this, Thanadir must come too. I won't bore you with the nature of all of my agreements, but I cannot be left...unguarded."

Thranduil sat back, reflecting, his long legs crossed out in front of him at the ankles. "I would like to go too, if I am welcome. And yes, regrettably, Thanadir acting as guard is under ordinary circumstances something I feel is a necessity. While I do not doubt that Earlene has some abilities regarding self-defense, having seen at least one example of her spiritedness, there are...too many Seans, in your world. I will not risk that anything remotely similar ever happens again."

Earlene cringed slightly, not relishing what the highly independent and obviously very streetwise Lorna was making of this restriction, but, she was bound by her vows. The ceiling was suddenly looking very interesting.

 _She can't go anywhere by herself? That..._ Lorna did her very best to take what she thought of that, tuck it in a little box marked cultural differences, and set it somewhere at the back of her mind. It wasn't easy, and she was going to have to try to reconcile it later, out of thought-range of Thranduil. He didn't need to be hearing just what she thought of that - and, as she kept reminding herself, Earlene signed on to this herself. _God, this was almost too damn hard..._ Lorna wasn't used to policing what she said; what she thought was damn near impossible.

"I'll have to borrow Mick's van," was what she said, but couldn't help wondering, _why in flying fuck would anyone agree to that, ever?_ before ruthlessly tamping it down. It wasn't her business, they all seemed to be in accord over it, but the very thought of being stuck in such an arrangement was horrifying to her. _You're not the one stuck in it_ , she reminded herself. _Earlene must be okay with it, or she wouldn't be. Don't be Mairead._ Her sister had a tendency to want to get into the center of everyone's business, and Lorna had always done her level best to avoid that, but the mere thought actually made her itch. "It might be good for you two, actually - you'll be seeing life outside Lasg'len before you have to go to Dublin or somewhere bigger. Baile's not too much unlike Lasg'len, though I'd say we're a bit...saltier." And that was really saying something. "They'll be curious, but nothing worse."

Thranduil was genuinely taken aback by the storm of opinion Lorna sought so very hard to suppress. He knew that even if she wished to, she could not contrive her thoughts; he was hearing what was sincere and genuine. And it gave him pause. _Lorna, I would like to speak to you about this later, if you are willing. I do not understand much of what I see within you. To me, my command to Earlene is out of love; a desire to protect my wife, who I cherish. Yet I see that you feel very differently. I have always worked to keep all my subjects from harm, and the idea that I would protect my flesh and blood less than the one who prepares our meals is not something I can fathom. And yet I wish to learn._ There was a pause, and he saw Lorna's head bob in a terse nod. She was obviously struggling with very passionate feelings on the matter, and for now, he knew that wisdom meant leaving this alone.

Earlene now spoke. "Well, as I've not seen anything but the airport and Lasg'len since arriving, I would enjoy it. And I do want to see your home." She paused. "What came in the mail, this is for you, Lorna. This is the prepaid credit card with your first month's salary. I spoke to the person who I hired to advise me about financial matters on this side of the pond, and they informed me that the money will act as a salary to an independent contractor. You will have to pay taxes on this as income. If you want, I would be glad to inquire about what strategies might be available to you for tax sheltering what of the money you do not feel you will immediately need. You also may wish to have this eventually go elsewhere, like a bank account or other form of investment or retirement fund. In the beginning it will be manageable, but depending on what choices you make, you may find that it begins piling up fast."

"Retirement fund?" Lorna had never actually had such a thing, unless you counted her savings. She'd paid taxes for years already, though technically having two jobs might complicate that. "Earlene," she said, more than a bit suspicious, "how much is on this thing?" Given the staggering generosity she'd already been shown, she had a dreadful fear it was far more than she'd anticipated. She sipped her tea, trying not to wince.

"Ten thousand euros."

Oh, that had been a mistake. At the word thousand, Lorna managed both spray tea all over the table and inhale half her mouthful, immediately coughing most of it up and out her nose. Classy. "You-" She couldn't properly speak, not when she was coughing so hard, wiping her face with the tail of her flannel shirt. Christ, she'd got it in her fringe, all down the front of her. "What-" Nope, still coughing. Her sinuses burned, but she finally managed to mostly hack up everything she'd inhaled, coughing it into her sleeve. Brilliant. "Are you mad? Ten thousand euros - Earlene, what I'm doing isn't worth-" hack, cough "-anywhere near that much. Jesus." And yet more coughing. _What...just what?_

"Lorna." A look came over Earlene's face and she drew herself up in a way Lorna had not seen before in her generally mild and amiable friend. "At the end of the day, I was paid what I was paid for my work because of one thing. My life's education and experience allowed me to accomplish what some people needed done very badly, but could not do themselves. Maybe you are telling yourself that because your background didn't include a degree from a university and avoiding time spent in certain institutions, that what you have to offer is somehow less valuable. Maybe you are even telling yourself that it is borderline worthless. If you listen to nothing else I ever say, listen to this: Knowledge and connections to what other people want and need equal power. And access to power has a price tag. The difference between the people who succeed monetarily in this world and those who do not is one thing; those who come out on top do not sell themselves short. They understand their worth and they leverage it for everything they possibly can. Know your worth, Lorna, and do not let anyone else tell you that you are less than you are." With that, the look of focused intensity that temporarily made Lorna feel like she was possibly about to be eaten vanished from Earlene's face, and her body relaxed into its usual demeanor. Looking over, Lorna saw that even Thranduil had raised his eyebrows in surprise. Standing up, Earlene tossed her dark hair behind her shoulders and went to pour herself more tea.

"That's...Jesus." She didn't know what to do with that. Liam, Gran, Mairead - they'd always told her to be proud of what she was, but nobody had ever actually told her she could be something more. Probably, she thought, because they were all like her; Mairead had the most education out of all of them, but she'd never counted that as much difference. "I'll try, Earlene. I can't promise anything more than that, just yet." She'd always felt that she had known her worth, and that it hadn't been what Earlene thought it was. Wrapping her head around the idea that she was wrong, that she'd been wrong about it, was not going to happen instantly. Not at her age.

She eyed Thranduil, somewhat suspiciously. If he didn't have a hand in this, she'd be very surprised. The generosity of these people really was going to be the death of her - possibly literally, if she was eating or drinking anything when they dropped a bomb like that on her again. "I think I need to hang this shirt up outside," she said, picking at her tea-soaked flannel. "I'll be right back." Fortunately, like any sensible Irish person she wore layers, and her tank top didn't feel like it was more than damp.

Seriously. These people would be the absolute bloody death of her.

"I'm sorry, Lorna," Earlene sighed when Lorna returned. "I didn't mean to go 'courtroom' on you. It's just that...I've had a long time to think about things like this. When you walk down the street every day, knowing that every hour you spend at work is bringing in a rather large sum, and then you pass someone on the street who has to work more than a day to earn that same amount, you start thinking very heavily about the nature of 'work' and 'value.' I put in a great deal of effort for what I earned and I won't apologize for it, but I also met people who had no higher education but formidable savvy that out-earned me by quite a lot. Parsing out the reasons why that was so…" she shrugged, and turned back to sipping her tea.

"I can't say it's the sort'v thing I've given much thought to," Lorna said, sipping what little was left of her tea. "We all just...do what we've got to do, but I've never personally known anyone who's brought in anywhere near ten thousand euros a month. It's more money than I can bloody imagine, and sure it's more than I know what to do with." Seriously, what the hell was she going to do with ten thousand euros a month? Her cottage needed some work, but not nearly enough to justify such a paycheck...well, she'd told Thanadir she'd teach him how to fix a car. At least now she could actually afford to buy one.

Earlene chuckled. "Yes you do, you know me. And I had to learn what to do with it, and I had guidance from others who knew how to use it wisely. I absolutely do not want to be a busybody, but if you want I am happy to advise you. There are two goals; the first is securing your future. Looking at your needs and ensuring that when you are older, how you are going to eat, or have a home, or pay to keep the heat on, isn't even a question. And then afterward, it is looking at what you might wish to have, or do, and understanding a wise path to those goals. Learning to balance now and later against each other, and to separate needs from wants. Learning that your money can make you more money if it is wisely invested. That sort of thing. What day would you like to go see Mairead? Perhaps you and Thranduil can work that out?"*

 _Money making more money..._ yeah, she would definitely need help. Earlene had a point; Lorna had no children, and she couldn't count on her nieces and nephews to look after her when she got old. "I think I'll need it," she said. "The thought's giving me a headache even now. Mairead...I don't think Mick's got anything going tomorrow, either, so if it's not too short notice for all'v you…" Her eyes traveled from person to person. She had to figure out how to explain her issues with Earlene being stuck with a babysitter without it coming off as horribly offensive - because, while she thought the very idea was crap, she didn't want to be an arsehole about it. (Not being an arsehole was a new thing for her. Tact was not a family trait, but hell, she tried.)

"Finance is not the most interesting subject in the world but...it's all a damn game, leveraged to be really great for the people who know how to play it. Lucky me, I do. So we can talk about that soonish-like. But it's yours to do with as you wish; what I've done is just...one way to choose. And tomorrow is fine if it is…? Thranduil?"

His blue eyes had tracked back and forth in this conversation, which highlighted some of the intricacies of the human world. He found that there were times he simply enjoyed looking on the minds of the mortals as they conversed; it was an education all in itself for him. Breaking out of his reverie, he considered for a moment. "Yes, that would be possible. More work is to be done on the garden here tomorrow, but I feel confident that Thanadir can provide any needed instructions in the morning. If I may ask, Lorna, at what hour do you wish to leave, and can you estimate how long we might be away?"

"I'm usually up early," she said. "Mairead's not off-shift until three, though, so if we leave at around two - it's about an hour's drive from here to Baile, if I'm actually driving like a reasonable person. Thing is, I know she'll try to con us into staying for tea, so if we don't want to stay, I'll have to start pushing on her early. She's a lot like me, just...worse."

"I do not mind being polite and visiting, if that is your wish. And leaving later in the day would allow more oversight of the goings-on here."

"Sounds like a plan," Lorna said, relieved. While she could get out of tea with Mairead, it would be a hassle and a half. "Earlene, what's your mobile number? It'll be a lot easier if we can call instead of having to email."

"Of course. It was silly of me to not have thought of that." She swiftly wrote it out and handed it to her. "Perhaps you can call and hang up or text, and then I'll add you to my contacts." This was all cared for and then Lorna said her 'good lucks' until tomorrow.

After Lorna left, she found the piping bag and tips hiding in the box of rarely utilized cooking equipment that had still not been assigned a permanent home. The buttercream had been removed from the refrigerator during the visit, and was now the perfect consistency. With practiced ease, she placed the swirls of frosting onto the little treats until the tray of them was completed. She had never gone in for decorative sprinkles, though some of her fancier creations had had chocolate shavings...these would not be so elaborate. When they were done, she went to the television, and set up the requisite video. Some years back, she had grown very fond of the Kirov Ballet version of Swan Lake. It was true that the company was sometimes not as crisp or precise in the scenes that included many dancers, but the principals-the ones who danced Odette/Odile, the Prince, the Jester and von Rothbart...they were beyond amazing, in her estimation. It had been awhile since she had watched this, and it would be just as much a treat for her as Thanadir. Everything was almost ready.

"Thranduil, if you want to join us, we are nearly ready. I know you do not want cupcakes. Can I offer you fruit or something more to your liking?"

"No meluieg, I have eaten enough. If you will allow me just a minute, I will finish this."

"No problem, more time for cupcakes." She showed Thanadir how these were eaten, and he watched her curiously as she peeled away the paper liner and took a bite. Earlene was always opinionated about not piling on so much frosting that it was impossible to take a bite without frosting going into places frosting was not meant to go. And yet there was always enough to balance out the cake. Thanadir carefully imitated her, already feeling enthusiastic about the frosting he'd sampled last night. Trying not to stare at him openly, she did glance at him as he took his first bite. She smiled, because it was obvious that the response was favorable. If he only had an idea, of all the sweets she could make for him. The corners of her mouth curled up at the mere thought of it. Fudge, cookies, pies, bars, cakes, tarts, bettys, crisps, charlottes, taffys, ice creams, brickles, caramels, butterscotches, truffles, petit fours, meringues, tortes…

"Meluieg."

Her daydream interrupted, she looked up at her husband, realizing what he had just overheard and waiting for the criticism.

His face softened. "It was very kind of you to make these. I would like to try one. Perhaps a half of one? Would you share one with me?"

She tried to keep her face from revealing her surprise. No, surprise was not the right word. _Astonishment._ That was the better term. Rising, she retrieved a knife and sliced one in half. Thranduil joined her.

"Are you sure you want this?" she asked kindly. "I appreciate what you are doing but these are...quite sweet."

He did not answer, but instead popped the half-cupcake into his mouth in two bites. She was right, but it was not going to stop him from eating it. He had caused her to expect censure for her enjoyments, and it had not been right of him. Meanwhile, Thanadir was on his fourth cupcake, and had frosting on the tip of his nose. Earlene grinned and picked up the remote. "In the beginning there will be music only. That is called a prelude. The film will show you the characters. If you have any questions about what you see I am happy to pause it and answer."

Pushing 'play', she leaned against Thranduil a little, saving her half-cupcake for later. The lovely music washed over her, and eventually the dancing began with the scene in the park. Perhaps five minutes in she heard from Thranduil. "I have a question." Pause.

"I can see that the story is being told in dance, in gestures. But...I have never seen a human stand and move with their feet bent in such a manner, bearing weight on their toes. Why are they doing that? Better yet, how are they doing that? Toe tips cannot support the weight of the body."

Earlene considered how unusual it must look to one who had never seen it. "It is done because it is beautiful, visually elegant to see. It is difficult and painful, and requires great strength and training. You do not even want to know what they endure, and what happens to their feet. As to how; those are special shoes called pointe shoes, built in such a way as to distribute the weight of the dancer to the rest of her foot. More or less."

By the time Act One was over, everyone was absorbed in their own kind of enjoyment. Thranduil had to acknowledge that the grace and elegance were lovely and impressive to see, and their physical prowess would gain even the respect of an elf. Earlene, having seen this more than once, looked for details she had not previously noticed that she might appreciate. Thanadir, however, was entranced. The loveliness of the costumes, the grace of their movements...this was incomparable, in his eyes. In all his long life he had never seen the like and he thought the dance was uncommonly beautiful. He seemed equally mesmerized by the music; she noticed that after awhile he recognized the main theme and would hum it with his lovely voice. At one point he reached down to lift Earlene's feet into his lap, which she assumed Thranduil had asked him to do. The King's eyebrows raised, because he had not, and this could only be a reflection of how much he was enjoying himself...but he decided not to tell Earlene.

As she was benefiting from another marvelous foot rub, there would be no complaint. The amusement for her was in watching the scene where the Prince's tutor was trying to return his errant pupil to study, when he would clearly rather spend his time in other, less serious pursuits. _And yet here is my own tutor watching ballet and giving me a foot rub_ , she smirked. The irony was perfect, though she would never tell Thanadir. Though, this did rather fall into the category of 'cultural education.'

It was nearly two magical hours, in which she managed to stuff down another cupcake and a half. Earlene had chosen this version for a reason; it was one of the few productions in which the Prince and the Swan Queen both lived. She'd never liked that so often this was a tragic story, though she'd seen quite a few versions regardless. It felt sad, when it was over. No one spoke for awhile, and she hated to be the one to break the spell of Thanadir's wonderful hands on her toes. Yet she need not have worried.

"Earlene, gather your study materials. Thanadir will escort you to the Halls, where we will spend the night."

"What about Tail? How will he be cared for?"

Thranduil had the most peculiar look on his face. "You will bring his bed. And the kitten. Food and a place for his necessities will be provided."

Earlene smiled. "Thank you, Thranduil." Minutes later, with Thanadir insisting on carrying everything but Tail, he offered his arm and they departed.


	24. Chapter 24

To Our Readers: Two chapters will be released today and one tomorrow; it is our holiday gift to those of you who have supported and enjoyed our tale. I apologize for being unable to get chapter 24 posted yesterday on this site as originally intended, regrettably some RW difficulties interfered. Whether you celebrate Hanukkah, Christmas, soltstice, Turuhalmë, something else or nothing else, we wish you joy and happiness at this time of year. -Spamberguesa and AnnEllspethRaven

* * *

Earlene woke in the softness of Thranduil's bed to see that he was already nearly dressed and very alert. Hauling herself out of the warm covers to join him, she clothed herself shortly before Thanadir arrived with a tray of food and tea. Wordlessly, they all seated themselves. She was uncertain why no one was particularly loquacious this morning, but as she did not feel fully awake, decided it was best left alone.

"I thought, Earlene, that you might like to understand a little of what it is I spend my time doing when I cannot be with you."

The statement was cryptic, and with no discernible emotion.

"I would be glad to know, my Lord." As he seemed to want her to do this, agreeing felt reasonable.

His eyes met hers kindly, while Thanadir seemed unusually occupied with his porridge. They finished their meal in silence, at which time the seneschal cleared the table.

"Thank you, Thanadir, for bringing the food," she said softly. The eyes that met hers seemed like they were coming from a million miles away. "You are welcome," he said, before looking away.

 _Was it something I said?_ she wondered, even as she realized that his demeanor likely had nothing to do with her. Living in New York, a city of eight million people, had taught her that pretty much never was anything about her.

Thanadir disappeared, and Thranduil led her off on what amounted to a grand tour. First the kitchens; the cooks and those who helped them. Then those who cared for housekeeping. Then the gardeners, those who patrolled (she hadn't known that anyone did), the hunters, the foragers, the wood gatherers...basically, they had the necessities of life pared down to about two hundred elves that shared an intricate network of duties that served to maintain their insular world, and their King made a point of talking to each of them more or less at least every other day if possible. He and Thanadir basically acted as hubs of information; they coordinated their combined efforts. _What was this when there were thousands of them?_ It was hard to imagine.

They walked through many sections of his Halls she had not yet seen, until the thought of the promised excursion with Lorna was sounding like a welcome opportunity to plunk down and do nothing for awhile. It afforded a great deal of pleasure that while she could not truly understand their speech at normal speed, she was beginning to catch more isolated words and phrases that she did know. She could hear the sentences and sometimes almost parse out what the words must be, whereas not so very long ago it was nothing but a stream of gibberish. Every day she was building new connections to more words, and more than anything else she was grateful to Thanadir, whose patient skill had been helping guide her learning.

This grand tour concluded in time for her to return to their rooms and find that Tail was enthusiastically climbing some damask curtains that were over in one corner. Horrified, she quickly extracted the little creature from this activity, which caused him to erupt in purrs. "I am so sorry," she said apologetically to Thranduil. He took the kitten from her and rubbed its chin. Grinning at her, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"I should not say this, but I find these antics endearing. I did not know that their young were so amusing."

"I am not certain I did either, but I am finding out quickly," she said with chagrin, as she batted at its little paw with her finger. It was added to her mental task list that researching feline behavior, very soon, gained priority status. Thranduil kissed her once more, this time on the lips, for good measure.

"Come, meluieg. Thanadir will serve the meal, and then we will return to your cottage until it is time to depart with Lorna."

Thranduil leaned in raptly toward his screen, reading a website about Baile, while Thanadir was quizzing Earlene about verb conjugations, asking her to say the same sentences over and over, declining the verbs in present and past tense. It felt vaguely terrifying to repeat these aloud to the seneschal, but Thanadir had taken over her instruction and would not be gainsaid. The gentle elf had managed to coax her into moving past some of her mental roadblocks, and had offered enough encouragement that it was beginning to seem less overwhelming. Really she was doing well, stumbling far less on the assorted lenitions than before. Which still made it a relief when the knock came at the door though it was yet early; they had not yet been back for twenty minutes. Though, that had been enough time for Tail to settle down on Thanadir's lap and fall sound asleep, his nose and eyes buried under a little foreleg.

Thranduil looked up. "It is Lorna, and I will get the door." There was apparently not going to be an easy escape from her language lessons, and Thanadir pointedly reminded her that she had left off at the second person plural, future tense of anira- before her concentration was interrupted. Earlene was meeting a new side of the seneschal; the gentle but incredibly strict teacher. That he vaguely called to mind the professor who had taught her freshman course in Constitutional law was not helping. But she could not disconnect her mind from noting that her friend had just arrived.

"Please, may I say hello?" she asked her tutor, to which she received a nod in the affirmative.

Lorna zoomed into the room, to which Earlene said, "Good afternoon, tea? And there are cupcakes if you'd like one or two…"

"You're spoiling me, you are," Lorna said, glancing at Thanadir - she suspected he was the one who was really getting spoiled. "I know I'm early - I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time." She'd thought cleaning out Mick's van would take longer than it actually had; his flat might be a disaster, but the van just needed a Hoover and window-wash. Driving like a reasonable human would be something of a trick, but she could do it if she had to.

"You're buying me about three minutes away from my taskmaster, so, I'll say 'no'...but I'm not off the hook. Language lessons." She put the kettle on, which only needed about half a minute to heat, while she found teabags. "Thanadir, Thranduil, would either of you like tea?"

Two heads shook No, and both of them were watching her. With a sigh, Earlene retrieved a cupcake from under the glass keeper and placed it on a small plate for Lorna, sliding it toward her just before she poured the water. "I'm sorry, we'll have to chat later it would seem." Obediently, she returned to Thanadir while Thranduil kept his eyes locked on Lorna.

 _Perhaps you can enjoy your cupcake, and then we might talk?_

Lorna suppressed a wince. She'd been trying all morning to figure out how to explain her stance on 'Thanadir the babysitter' without coming across as a complete arsehole. _Sounds like a plan_ , she sent him, and didn't bother to hide it when she took a sniff of her cupcake before taking a bite. She had an appreciation for baked goods, and she wasn't ashamed of it.

What the hell was she to tell him, exactly? How could she explain all the reasons making Earlene take Thanadir everywhere were total crap, without coming off as completely offensive? It really was a cultural differences thing, she knew; he wasn't just trying to be a controlling creep, like any human with such stipulations would be. Why, oh why would Earlene agree to such a thing to begin with? But then, not everyone would find it as horrifying as Lorna did - though a good many would. She tried to imagine anyone imposing such a restriction on Mairead, or Gran, or...really, any other Irish woman. It would be a no sell from the very beginning; the mere thought really did make her itch. How did Earlene not find it...well, demeaning? She wasn't a child; she didn't need a babysitter. There had to be some way of conveying that without it sounding like a personal attack.

 _You do not need to worry about how you sound, though I appreciate the effort to vaguely leave my sensibilities intact_ , he said, looking on with far too much humor on his face. Forcing himself to behave, he turned his eyes back to the screen.

Lorna fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She really was glad he found her amusing, because otherwise things would be pretty damn awkward. Instead, she ate a bite of cupcake, and shut her eyes a moment to savor what even Mairead would have to admit was pastry bliss. I'm planning on savoring this, so I can eat it while we walk, she said. If her mouth was full, she'd have to think before she opened it, too - though given that he could read her mind, that was a bit pointless. Oh well. She had to try.

He rose, and opened the back door for her, while Earlene unhappily recited "Tellin Lasg'len, tellinol Lasg'len, toll Lasg'len…" as Lorna followed him. She did not raise her eyes to her husband, knowing that basically nothing could save her until it was time for them to leave. Thranduil closed the door on the declension of _tol-_ , smiling. His wife struggled now, but she would absolutely need this knowledge.

He turned his attention now to Lorna, amused at her enjoyment of the cupcake that he had personally found to be almost inedibly sweet. _So if I understand correctly, humans place individual freedom above safety? I can see that you feel that my requirements are grossly unfair._

 _Safety is a relative term,_ Lorna said. _Earlene lived in New York City just fine. See, I know this isn't your intent, but by making her take Thanadir everywhere, you're telling her you think she's incompetent. While she doesn't have the same kind of skills I've got, she's a grown woman, not a little girl, and most of Ireland isn't exactly a hotbed of danger._ She tried quite hard to tamp down her own revulsion at the idea, and was pretty sure she succeeded. Eating the cupcake certainly helped. _And you have to keep in mind, I'm coming at this from a purely human perspective. In a human marriage, neither partner gets to put any restrictions on the other, and that's the only reference I have for marriage. I'm in the dark as to how you lot do it, but...yeah, I really think it is unfair. Personal autonomy is something humans value quite highly._

Thranduil reflected on this. It had not been a topic of discussion between them; Earlene had never expressed distaste concerning this. Though, he did perceive that it had felt humiliating to his wife, to have to confess this restriction to Lorna. But, such considerations never had a chance to be a topic; when Earlene swore fealty to him, it left her under obligation to obey him in all respects. Her opinions on this matter had not been known nor considered. But for all this, Earlene had very little discernible objection to the requirement. She was certainly free to voice this to him; he would listen. He turned to Lorna.

 _I know that you cannot hear my thoughts as I do yours. What I am turning around in my mind is a comparison of the strength of your feelings against what I saw in Earlene. She was not upset at having to bring Thanadir in the least; I have only ever perceived from her that she likes to be with my seneschal and that he provides her a sense of security. But it is true that she felt embarrassed to tell you about it. She sees your strength, and admires it, but seems to have no wish to be as you are. And this is what I am trying to understand._

Well, if Earlene didn't have a problem with it, then it wasn't a problem. Still… _There might come a time she wants to go out on her own, though_ , she said. _On a...oh, I don't know, a girls' day or something, where a lad like Thanadir wouldn't fit._ She smiled, shaking her head as she took a last bite of cupcake, transferring a blob of frosting to the end of her nose while she was at it. _We humans are nothing if not different. What one finds revolting, another has no problem with - it's just how we are. Earlene's had no need to be as I am, so I'm not surprised she'd not want to. The thing you've got to keep in mind with me is that I've been in prison, so I've got some, ah, strong feelings about personal freedoms. It's a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to having been stuck in a cage, and I can't do much about it, so you might get flashes of it from time to time that'll make little to no sense to you. There's some things that just don't make sense without specific context._

Thranduil pondered her words, trying to find a comparison in his life for her experience, and could only manage seeing some similarity to his father's frequently tyrannical restrictions when he was an elfling. _I had not considered that this experience of losing your freedom would have influenced your views in this matter. Are your feelings also because of gender? Would you feel as strongly if I told you that I did not want Thanadir to go out into your world alone, either? I do not mean into Lasg'len, but rather the world outside of our forest and the village._

Lorna considered this. _Partly, yes,_ she said. _But also, with Thanadir, this world is alien to him. There's very good reason to not want him out on his own - he still has pretty shaky English. Earlene's on her home turf, so to speak; she's probably had the world by the bollocks - great, another expression he didn't need to know - for years now, given what she did for a job. If she was going into Dublin at night - yeah, then I could see wanting backup. But I don't exactly have the right perspective to look at any of it. The thing about prison, the thing you can't understand, since you're not human and have never been to human prison, is that once you've spent enough time only being able to do a thing whenever, however, and wherever someone else tells you you can, it...leaves a mark. I spent five years with virtually no autonomy, totally at the whim of someone else and usually shut in a cage, so it's easy for me to read into things stuff that isn't actually there - though I can tell you, it would be wise not to let this...whatever it actually is...become common knowledge, because I'm not the only one who'll look at it weird._ They had a good image with the village right now, but that was the kind of thing that would make people look a bit askance.

The King raised his eyebrows, on hearing this statement of fact. _You have given me a great deal to consider. It is...hard, for me, to find what we have done for such a long time colliding with your world. I do not know if you can understand, this did not come from a place of wishing to deprive anyone of freedom. When someone swears fealty to me, it is not merely another making promises to me with no obligation in return. I take an oath to them, as well. To serve, honor, care for, protect. I am under heavy obligation to ensure the well-being of those under my wing, if you will. If something were to happen to Earlene or anyone else to whom I owe my duty, it would be my fault. My responsibility. My guilt. And in the short time Earlene has been here, she has been assaulted twice by males. I know that the arrangement of king and subject is something that has become alien to this world, but it is all we have ever known. I can at least promise you that I will be talking with Earlene about everything you have mentioned. I will ask her to tell me her feelings, and whether she wishes that matters were different._

He was under a heavier obligation than he could realistically live up to, or so Lorna thought. She paused, looking up at him. "Sure Christ, it's not your fault Earlene found the only two cretins within a hundred-mile radius," she said, appalled that he'd think so. "Thranduil, d'you really think it's your fault if something happens to one'v your people outside your forest? I mean - look, you've not got to feel guilty over something like that. Shite happens. You can't go blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong to your people, or you'll go mad. That...you might resent this comparison, but my old gang leader, Shane, he was like that - felt responsible for all'v us, and it cut him to the core, every time something happened, even though he'd no control over it." She'd watched it come close to tearing him apart more than once, too, but he'd never been able to let it go. His people were his people, and he did everything he could - but to him it was never enough, because the world was big and cruel and didn't care how safe he wished he could keep them. All he could really do was teach them all he knew, and give them the tools to navigate that world.

Now that they were well beyond the house, he also switched to speaking, shaking his head. "I would say rather that your Shane is excellent leadership material. I well know that I cannot control the world. In my time I have watched not hundreds but thousands of my kin perish, Lorna. While I hear your words, it is never so simple for me. Forgive me, but you have agreed to be responsible for yourself; I have agreed to be responsible for each of my subjects. No king of an elven people has ever felt differently, and there have been many. And while it is true that not every ill occurrence is avoidable, there are such things as 'taking precautions.' For example, I cannot control it if any of my elves were to be in the outer world and happen to be standing in a place one of your terrorist bombings occurs. But if Thanadir is with Earlene, he can and will defend her against an assailant. And yet I will still discuss this with her, because I would agree that you have a point about relative levels of risk. Surely, too, Earlene's feelings matter as well." While he was genuinely open to learning, he was not fully seeing that their autonomy mattered more, though he was perhaps seeing a concept that it might depend more heavily on circumstance.

Lorna mulled. He had a point, and a very good one. She had no personal context at all to relate; Lorna was a caretaker, but she'd never been any kind of leader, and probably didn't have it in her to be one. Though she worried, when he said Thanadir would defend Earlene against an assailant - she had, after all, seen just how easily Thanadir dealt with her, and thanks to Shane's training, most assailants probably couldn't do what she could. The last thing any of them needed was for him to get arrested in the line of duty, so to speak, even once they did have ID's; the risk of someone figuring out things they didn't need to be figuring out was too high.

"Well, if Earlene's not got a problem with it, I don't see how it's as much'v an issue," she said slowly. She was going to have to consciously remind herself that not everyone was going to have the same hangups as her. "But yeah, talking to her about it would be a good idea. You can't go wrong with communication, and any wife appreciates it when her husband's willing to speak and listen." Way too many human husbands failed pretty hard at the second, but Thranduil wasn't human. What Lorna wondered was how much Earlene would be willing to say out loud. Would she be as forthcoming as she would be if Thranduil was a human? Ugh, there were too many things Lorna just didn't know, and didn't need to know because they were none of her business, but it only made the whole situation harder for her to evaluate. There was obviously a good deal Thranduil still didn't know about the human world, but there had to be far more about the elven world that Lorna had no idea about. He was smart, though; she trusted him to be able to reconcile what he learned of humanity to his own society, even if it took a bit of work to get it there.

She thought of Liam, and what she might have done to protect him, had she known what would happen the night they wrecked the van. Would she have forced him to stay in the car park until morning, rather than try to drive in that storm? She had an unfortunate feeling the answer was 'yes', but would she have actually had a right to? They'd spoken vows to each other, though not of the sort the elves probably had; where did the line between protection end and freedom begin? If it was that difficult to pin down between ordinary humans, it was probably infinitely more complex in this situation. Still, Earlene was a grown woman, and to Lorna's twenty-first century, republic-born, feminist mind, that ought to mean she was the one who chose whether or not she went accompanied anywhere. If she didn't mind having Thanadir with her, though, then it was a bit of a moot point; the three of them were in accord, with no need for anyone to rock the boat. Yeah, to Lorna it seemed weird, but it really wasn't any of her business, and she was absolutely not going to be Mairead about it. True, there was no way to hide it from Thranduil, if she found something exceptionally odd or backward, but that didn't mean she was going to get involved. He might be a bit of a captive audience to her thoughts, but she didn't have to go dumping them on everyone else, and she wasn't going to. Hopefully that would count for something.

"I get it," she said, shaking her head. "Wanting to keep Earlene safe, I mean. You know why, though I hope to Christ you've not actually seen that memory." Unconsciously she rubbed her left leg, which still ached something fierce when it rained. That was a memory she wouldn't wish on anyone - she'd mostly suppressed it herself, except in nightmares. "I wish - I wish I could explain this better, even to myself. I guess it's one'v the things you lot'll just have to work out as you go along, as your world keeps meeting ours. It's not like there's any precedent for it."

Thranduil walked without speaking for a time, though he was careful to temper his long strides so that he did not force Lorna to struggle to keep up. Finally he spoke, hoping he was choosing words that would help. "I have seen glimpses. Enough to know the generality of what you suffered." He stopped walking, and the volume of his voice dropped. "And I am so very sorry, that this happened to you. I did not mean for my words to imply that you are unaware of consequences. Lorna, should you ever wish to speak about this fully and ease your burdens, be aware that I can and will help you. But that is your decision; I have no wish to pry into your deepest privacies.

And I want to thank you. You are right, our two worlds can be difficult to reconcile. But by conversing with me, you allow me to see...how do I say this...a broader brush stroke of human thinking, on this matter? Earlene does feel free to talk to me; she could not hide it if she felt otherwise. So when we have discussions, there is no doubt in my mind that she is sharing her genuine opinions. But she does not think like you do. Your mind filters many possibilities, whereas hers is more like an arrow that flies straight to a target. Focused, highly logical. I am not telling you this to say that one is better than the other. Yet in terms of my ability to learn about humans, our conversations are most illuminating."

On the one hand, part of her did want to talk about...that, someday, but she had to weigh it against what that memory might do to him. Yeah, he'd seen some pretty horrific shite over the course of his God-knew-how-long life, but that might give some of it a run for its money. For all she'd tried so hard to suppress it, her nightmares were still crystal-clear. "I...might," she said, staring at nothing. "I never have, before, because it's not like I'd known anyone who'd understand before. In prison, they tried to have me see a psychologist, to get me to reconcile what I'd done to my da, and I hated it so much that I never went to one about this." She'd actually bitten the woman, which she wasn't proud of, but the damn doctor just hadn't been willing to let up.

She wiped the frosting from the end of her nose, and looked up - too far up, goddammit, why did she have to be so short? - at him. "Nice to know some'v the things my brain hacks up are helpful," she said, with a half-smile. "I think it might help, having a couple different perspectives. It can't hurt, anyway. You'll meet all sorts, when you go out into the world; might be good to have the preparation of multiple human minds first." Multiple minds who wouldn't, like many in the village, be too awed to create an accurate baseline. Everyone in the village knew what the elves were, and reacted accordingly, but out in the world, they'd get the same reaction as any other human would. Thranduil would find himself confronted with minds quite different from her or Earlene, but if he had even a little preparation, it would make it easier. Going to Baile might help quite a bit, in that regard; its people would be curious, but nobody was going to be weird or hostile. The equivalent of wading in the shallows, before heading into the deeper waters of a city.

Thranduil smiled. "You spend much thought concerned with the welfare of Thanadir or myself, in relation to you. It is endearing, and appreciated, but unnecessary. I have had my own difficulties, but I was granted a great deal of resilience by which to manage them. And the sum of my experiences has, I am afraid, made it very difficult to shock or surprise me. And I most certainly do not wish to have you try to bite me," he said, grinning while deciding it was also a wise time to change the subject. "You have mentioned your sister in scattered conversations. Will you tell me more about her? I have already gathered that she is perhaps overly concerned with your well-being?"

Lorna laughed. "I was like that even before I met Gran and Mairead, and they just made it worse. And I promise I won't bite." That had got her out of many a scrape, but that was all in her past, now. "Mairead...I complain about her a lot, but she and Gran are the only reasons I survived after I lost Liam. I'd never met either'v them before - Mairead, she's my half-sister; Mam was only seventeen when she had her, so the grandparents raised her. I was a bloody mess when I first came to Baile, so it's not like she didn't have a reason to be concerned - she's just carried it on a lot longer than I needed it. She's got four kids, so being a mam is just part'v who she is, and she's enough older than me that I think it was just natural she treat me like one'v her kids, too."

She shook her head, as always half-fond, half-exasperated when thinking of her sister. "And at the time, I did kind'v need it. I'd dropped out'v school at fourteen, I'd never had a proper job - in a way, the normal human world was a mystery to me, too, and she just took that in stride. The problem is that she's never accepted the fact that I actually grew up, that I've got halfway decent judgment now. It's why she's got to meet you lot, or she'll never be done badgering me: I know damn well she'll assume I'm too daft to know if I've got myself into something illegal."

Lorna honestly wasn't sure what Mairead would make of these three, but at least she wouldn't think they were the Mafia. There was no arguing with Earlene's credentials, and you didn't have to know just what positions Thranduil and Thanadir actually held to realize they were used to being in charge of...something. Whether Thranduil wanted to be or not, he could be pretty bloody intimidating, just by the sheer fact of his height. Mairead herself was close to six feet tall, but unfortunately for anyone Thranduil wanted to set at ease, he'd tower over most people. Thanadir was so adorable that he wouldn't intimidate unless he actually tried, and she was going to have a hell of a time keeping Mairead from trying to feed him everything in the house. She only thanked God that Shannon, Mairead's eldest, was away at university, or Mairead might well try to set the pair up. That would be a level of awkward even Lorna couldn't deal with.

Breaking down in laughter, Thranduil found that the mental imagery was simply too much. "You make a good point. I am realizing that I should perhaps warn my seneschal that he may be found desirable by some of those who encounter him. While I will not presume to speak for him in matters of the heart, I do not believe he feels open to bonding with another. He might appreciate being tutored concerning a polite way to decline...advances."

Lorna couldn't help laughing herself, because she could all too easily see poor Thanadir floundering, too polite to tell someone to shove off. "I think it'd definitely be a good warning," she said. "So far no little old ladies have pinched his cheek, but you never know, and he'd definitely appeal to a certain sort'v young women especially. Some humans can be kind'v...obvious, when they think someone's attractive. My gran'd say they've got no shame, which'd be a bit rich, considering she had none at all. Most'll be put off easily enough, though a few...well. You never do know. I don't know how you lot feel about straight-up lying, but I'll tell you one thing - a wedding ring's a good way to tell people you're not interested." She held up her left hand, where Liam's ring still rested on her finger. "There might be a few that stay pushy, but it's usually men that do that. Women tend to take the hint, unless they're completely ossified." She'd never been partial to the pretty sort herself, but there were loads who'd descend on Thanadir like vultures if given the opportunity. Thranduil himself was visibly married and intimidating enough that nobody was likely to actually approach him, though she couldn't promise he wouldn't get...comments...voiced or otherwise. Neither one of them yet had any idea how perverted human beings could be, and she couldn't help but wince. She preferred her gentlemen with slightly more melanin, but there were more than enough that went after the pale types. (Lorna herself didn't get it, and couldn't prevent herself from wondering how a woman could handle a man who probably glowed in the dark. _Shit,_ now she'd gone and thought that. _Wonderful, Lorna. Nice going_.)

"Is this a bad time to inform you that we elves do have a light that emanates from our skin?" Thranduil teased mercilessly. "I do not mind, Lorna. Even with my limited experience in such matters, I understand that what is attractive to another is intensely personal and often inexplicable. But Earlene seems to manage just fine." He was having much, much, much too much fun.

Lorna burst out laughing before she could help it, torn between mortification and powerless amusement as she covered her face with her hands. "Are you serious?" she asked, looking up at him through her fingers. Christ, her sides hurt, but she couldn't stop laughing. "You lot actually glow in the dark?" Well, they've got the Irish beat there, she thought, wiping her eyes. She still couldn't stop giggling, but honestly, she'd hope she could be forgiven. "I guess it'd be handy on the way to the toilet at night." Christ, had she actually just said that? But it was true - no need to light a lamp. That thought just set her off all over again, to the point that she actually had to sit on a stump, trying desperately to get a handle on herself and failing utterly. The last thing she needed was to randomly think of that at Mairead's, and set herself off laughing all over again.

Rolling his eyes, he refused to take the bait. "There is a difference between a soft glow and a light bulb, and it is clearly time to return and rescue Earlene. I will assume that the vehicle ride in store for us will not be too much worse than being in a dwarven war chariot?"

Somehow, watching him roll his eyes was too hilarious for words. Still giggling, Lorna hauled herself to her feet. "I promise I'll drive like a reasonable person," she said. "You and Thanadir have never been in a car, and I don't want to give Earlene any reason to not want to ride with me ever again." She wouldn't be a very effective taxi if her prospective passengers were too terrified to have her as a driver. Behaving behind the wheel wasn't easy, but she could do it. Though she really, really wanted to know what it would have been like, driving a dwarven war chariot.

"You actually do not want to know from experience, I assure you." He offered her his arm and after she accepted, he relented somewhat as they walked back. He told her a little about the great war machines built by the dwarves, engineered to travel over almost any terrain, and the strange, large animals that had drawn them.

Back at the cottage, he placed his finger over his lips to indicate Lorna should be quiet, and opened the door just in time to hear Thanadir demand, "Translate 'the male elf will eat that apple,' please. And then write out your translation."

 _I am in hell_ , Earlene thought, before trying to answer. He at least allowed her the use of her notes, but had higher expectations for accuracy on account of it. "i ellon meditha... gordof... san." The answer came slowly, and she was madly flitting through pages as well as the little dictionary she'd bought. She looked up at Thanadir hopefully, as she began writing this in Tengwar. His time was appreciated, and Earlene truly did not wish to disappoint him.

He smiled. "Yes. You have done well, Earlene," he said softly. "I know this is very hard. That will be all, for now."

 _Thank the gods_ , she thought. _Any of them. All of them_. So focused was she on the little task, she had not heard anyone enter and was unaware of them until Thranduil spoke.

"We should think about leaving, soon," he indicated.

Looking up, Earlene nodded. "I will change." She was still wearing her dress from the Halls, and left to find something suited to the modern world in the bedroom. The ellyn were already wearing the same clothing they had worn to the party, with the addition of something like men's sportcoats which magically had just appeared. It lent them a reasonably modern appearance, though to anyone with a critical eye for fashion their attire would still seem a little off.

When she emerged, she was clothed in a way Thranduil had not seen; a woman's professional business suit; slacks, and a lovely white silk blouse. High quality, tailored, dark blue wool with navy pinstripes, medium heels plus delicate sheer hoisery, her hair pinned into a French twist, and carefully applied makeup constituted what she jokingly thought of as her suit of armor. He openly stared at her, and she arched her eyebrows.

"Meluieg, what are you wearing?" he asked, baffled.

"This is formal business attire, Thranduil; this is how I dressed for my professional work. As the purpose of this visit is to convince Lorna's family that I am not some minion of the underworld, I intend to use every means at my disposal to establish that nothing about her employment with us is a joke. Or nefarious. I am going to be framing this in terms of, you have hired me, and I have hired Lorna. Though I admit, our being wed does make this all a little unusual, but I believe I can talk my way through that more than adequately. No offense to your family, Lorna," she said as kindly as possible. "And, I sincerely hope that somewhere between here and there you know where we might stop to buy a suitable hostess gift; a houseplant, bottle of wine, some useful item, a treat from a bakery...something? I was hoping you could help me out with that part. I cannot have us arrive empty-handed without feeling rude."

Lorna stared, unable to help it. Yeah, she'd known Earlene was a lawyer, but the suit really...hammered it home, and would definitely make an impression on Mairead. Truth be told, she'd never even heard of a hostess gift, but they could stop at the bakery in Baile - Siobhan's chocolate buns were to die for. "I know'v a place," she said, and tried to ignore how very scruffy she suddenly felt. The only times in her entire life she'd ever actually seen someone wearing a business suit in real life had been, naturally, when she was in court, but none of the solicitors she'd dealt with could wear on quite like Earlene did. "And trust me, I'm not offended. I know Mairead, and Mairead knows me - if she doesn't think it's some kind'v joke, I'd be very surprised. I'll bet you anything she'll start out thinking I've got into something criminal, then that it's a joke, and then...who knows. She'll probably surprise me." She did not need to be daunted by Earlene, for fuck's sake; this was Earlene. Feeling scruffy was acceptable, but she didn't need to be disturbed by the suit.

"I'd offer to hand her a business card but as they all connect to my old firm, that would be more than a little pretentious," she quipped. "Don't worry. This will be fine; talking at people until it IS fine...that's been pretty much the last decade of my life." She chuckled. "We look like a motley crew, which for whatever reason seems very funny just now."

Lorna looked at Earlene's suit, at her own jeans and flannel, and the elves in their not-quite-modern clothes - Earlene had a very good point. "I'm not sure Mairead stands a chance," she said. "And that thought amuses me a lot more than it ought to. All right, you lot, pick seats - I cleaned out the van, so there's no need to worry you'll get anything stained." Thank God, too; she hadn't counted on anything like the suit, and she'd have hated to lay a towel down on a seat or something equally awkward.

"Thranduil, I think you should sit up front. This is your first real view of the outside world and...you might as well be able to view it," Earlene quipped. "Maybe you could trade with Thanadir for the ride home, then you'd each get a good look at the sights." Without further hesitation, she directed Thanadir to climb into the rear seat. She followed him and plunked down, and checked that the seat belts were in order for Thanadir, who seemed very lost as to what he was doing, being strapped into this strange metal box on wheels. She figured Lorna would be more than capable, as a mechanic, to show Thranduil the wonderful world of opening car doors and other minutiae. That and, she felt somewhat focused on assuring that the seneschal felt as comfortable as possible on this little adventure. She kindly explained to him what the belts were for and showed him how they were released, and let him do it himself to ensure he understood. At least, she noted, there was about a mile of leg room for him behind Lorna.

Lorna saved Thranduil the effort by leaning over the gearshift and opening the door for him, demonstrating how the seat belt worked by putting on her own. Fortunately for him, the front seats were bucket seats, or else he'd be sitting with his knees under his chin, given how close she had to scoot her seat to the steering wheel. Mick's van had seemed overkill until she saw both elves in it; even Earlene might not have been terribly comfortable in something smaller, given the height of their company.

"All right, I promise I'll drive like a reasonable human," she said, firing up the van. Old and battered it might be, but it purred like a kitten; Mick looked after the workings of his own equipment as well as he did everyone else's. She'd done an easy thirty on her way out here, but she kept it under twenty for now, no matter that her foot actually itched to go faster. She could save it for the motorway, though even there she'd have to behave herself. It was a rather alien thought, but at least it was a good test of her self-control. Thranduil might say that her concern for the welfare of both elves was unnecessary, but in this case, it really wasn't. While she doubted her normal driving would make either of them scream, she wouldn't be surprised if it made them want to, and she wouldn't wish it on poor Earlene, either. Yeah, Earlene had lived in New York City, but Lorna doubted that would help much.

In the backseat, Earlene began to fill Thanadir's head with vocabulary terms, asking Lorna to correct terms that were only used in America. She actually had no idea if "boot" and "bonnet" were what was said here. While she'd researched many things about Ireland, automotive lingo had not been one of those topics. As Lorna began to gain speed as she moved beyond the confines of the village, she saw Thanadir's eyes widen.

Taking a guess, she took his arm, just as she did when they walked from place to place, hoping he would find the touch of a friend reassuring. She tried to imagine how she would feel if the speed of a horse had been the fastest thing ever experienced, and then to find oneself under modern locomotion. Her guess had not been wrong, for it endeared her to no end when he reached over with his opposite hand to cover hers with it. _Even the very brave can feel apprehension_ , she thought, though she knew he was incredibly capable within his sphere of normality. _It's all in what you're used to._ She placed her own hand over his in reassurance. Part of her wanted to pet him on the head but that would be going too far. _If only he did not look so impossibly doe-eyed. There had to be some part of the human genetic code that was hardwired to cause people to respond to those with his facial features. There simply had to be._

Poor Thanadir...glancing in the rear-view mirror was possibly the only thing that kept Lorna from speeding up and cutting off the gobshite that had just cut her off. It had been a long time since she'd done nothing but keep up with the speed of traffic, but she really didn't want to see what heart failure looked like in an elf - assuming that was even possible. She'd rather not find out, and she'd bet none of the rest of them would, either. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she fought the impulse to pass this eejit.

A side-glance at Thranduil told her nothing; he was damned impossible to read when he wanted to be. Was he indifferent? Was he as freaked-out as Thanadir? She had no idea, but it was yet one more reason not to push it. Part of her wondered what he'd make of it, if she ever did let loose and actually drive like herself; either he'd love it or he'd murder her. Probably not worth testing, no matter how curious she was.

Eventually, she found a way to pass the twat in front of them without having to do anything drastic, and wound up much calmer. If she slowed down a bit, just to make him suffer...well, it wasn't going to upset any of her passengers. It didn't help that it had been ages since she'd driven anything this big; Mairead wouldn't let her borrow the family Explorer precisely because she normally drove like such a psychopath, so she'd been reliant on her motorcycle for years.

It seemed to take far too long to reach the Kildare exit, but she made it eventually, and hoped slowing down would help poor Thanadir's nerves. It was still much faster than he'd ever have gone before, but not so fast as the motorway.

"You all right back there?" she asked.

Earlene waited a moment to see if Thanadir would choose to answer. When it appeared he would not, she piped up in such a way as to deflect attention from the poor elf. "We're good, just enjoying the scenery. You know, this really is a beautiful country; you've no idea what it's like to see green everywhere instead of asphalt and concrete. For years all I had was Central Park." Without her even being aware of it, her thumb had begun to rub back and forth over his wrist, hoping that it offered him a little solace. She was unsure what he was thinking, and could only guess at what she thought might be the cause of his apparent distress.

"I've got some idea," Lorna said, cottoning on and hoping speech might distract Thanadir. "I grew up in Dublin. I didn't see much in the way'v green until Liam and I went traveling, and then when I moved to Baile. Dublin's not a patch on New York, but there wasn't much green in my life 'til I was an adult." Earlene and the elves might like Baile, too; it was far more farmland and sheep-rearing than Lasg'len, but they had a little patch of forest of their own - far newer than Lasg'len's, but pretty nonetheless. Her cottage stood not too far from it, and she'd gone on many a hike. Maybe Thanadir might find it soothing to take a walk in, before they left again - no, it wasn't his home, but it was trees, and green, and peace. She had some hazy idea that he might be able to...recharge, like a battery, in the right environment.

She side-eyed Thranduil again. _You all right? In case you hadn't noticed, you're a bit hard to read - are you as bad off as Thanadir? I can pull over for a bit in Kildare, if you two need it._ They could afford to pause a while, and poor Thanadir really did look like he might be on the verge of a meltdown. She couldn't imagine what it would be like, to be in a car for the first time as an adult, and go so much faster than you might have even thought possible. He was God knew how old, and this was possibly the first entirely new experience he'd dealt with in thousands of years. It definitely put a crimp in the whole idea of him playing bodyguard when Earlene left the village, and that was aside from the fact that sooner or later he'd be taking a several-hour trip to Dublin. It might be wise to take him for short rides around the village, to acclimate him to being in a car at all; the speed limit there was nice and slow, and they could easily pull over any time he needed to. Once he'd got used to that, she'd take him out on the motorway at night, when there was less traffic. As a last resort, he could always take a belt or two of that elven wine to settle his nerves.

Lorna, broke into her thoughts. _I am well, and enjoying the scenery and seeing many new things. While it is possible that the motion of the vehicle is disturbing Thanadir, it is equally possible that his mind is working rapidly, analyzing possible threats to myself and Earlene in this environment. He was foremost a warrior, and a skilled tactician. I know him well enough to tell you that he is still very much in control of himself. And even if he were feeling unwell, he would not admit it unless I tore it from his mind. He is far more than he appears to be. Having seen more humans now, I can guess how he appears to you. Young, innocent, untested. I can assure you that he is none of those things._

 _Is that why he has a death grip on Earlene?_ Lorna quipped, unconvinced.

Thranduil frowned. _That is difficult to say. He may believe that he is comforting her, having no real awareness of Earlene's sophistication. I confess I have not discussed many things adequately with Thanadir; among them being the reality of what Earlene's life was before coming here._ He laughed. _As if I completely understand it myself. But at least I have the access to her thoughts and memories, so I comprehend somewhat._

If Thranduil said Thanadir was okay, he was probably right - he was the mind-reader, after all. Still, all the evidence of Lorna's eyes made her wince a bit, because it was difficult to overrule. Logically, she knew Thanadir could probably kick her arse without breaking a sweat - if elves even did sweat - but Thranduil was right: he looked so young and innocent, and the dissonance was not easy to overcome. His was a face that made a person want to comfort him, and give him cookies with warm milk. That he could probably break most humans in half was not readily evident, and easy to forget.

 _I don't think even I could comprehend what Earlene's life was before she came here_ , she admitted. _New York City's not like anything you'll find on this side of the Atlantic._ Even the thought of the subway in New York just didn't compute; Lorna had only seen it in movies, but she doubted she'd want to hassle with it, and Earlene had, so far as Lorna had gathered, used it every day and managed to avoid murdering anyone while doing it. That was a more impressive thing than she probably realized. One thing was for certain, though: Lorna was never going to inflict her actual driving on either one of them.

While Earlene held onto Thanadir out of sympathy, the New Yorker in her refused to ask him if he was well. It was not possible to forget his stern and dignified demeanor when first she met him, and she could not bring herself to ask him anything that might assail his...preferred public persona. She had too much respect for him. Plus, it was always possible that she was misunderstanding.

Besides, she needed to reflect on her 'presentation.' Not fully certain why this was the case, she only knew that this felt like work. In the sense of, this had to do with business, and when she was in a place of business, she was not accustomed to any challenge. In her old life, she had status that was the envy of many. Few people dared to cross her because they knew the power she held by virtue of her reputation and her connections. And back then, while she did not feel that she ever abused it, she had understood the necessity of using it at times to maintain her position at what she thought of as the top layers of the swamp. It was the reality of that world. For Mairead, there would be no explanations given, as to her full background. _Or…?_ It was best to be clear.

"Lorna, may I ask you if Mairead knows that I am newly arrived in Ireland? I am pondering my speeches."

"Mairead doesn't know anything yet," Lorna said. "I've not told her about anything except what I've been doing working with Mick, because I didn't want the interrogation." Fortunately, she had backup now; she really doubted Mairead's interrogation could stand up against Earlene, though she was highly amused by the prospect of watching her sister try.

"Perfect. Excellent. Now I can pursue my favorite strategy; 'Less is More.' And unless Thranduil disagrees, I'm going to suggest that outside of Lasg'len, the ellyn are Fionn and Cian. We'd best all get used to using those names when away from the village." With that, Earlene sank back into a brooding silence.

 _What in hell are 'ellyn'?_ Lorna asked.

Thranduil looked sideways at Lorna. _That is the word in our language for male elves. Only one male elf is an 'ellon'. And does that mean something to you? 'Less is more?' I do not understand._ He was beginning, even by his own admission, to think of Lorna as an important mortal informational kiosk.

 _It usually means that if you can get away with it, the less said about something, the better_ , she said. _You let the other person mentally fill in the blanks and do half the work for you - it can be way more effective than actually arguing._ Lorna had never actually seen it in a courtroom context, but Gran had been good at it, when she'd felt like it. She had a feeling Earlene probably had it down to an art form. _It also means Mairead won't know what hit her._

Much to everyone's surprise, Thanadir broke his silence. "Can you please tell me something about the place we are visiting, Lorna?" Short and sweet, and the soft but very keenly focused eyes were now riveted on her.

Lorna didn't quite breathe a sigh of relief, but she came close. Speech was a good sign. "It's a lot like Lasg'len, really," she said, easing off the exit onto the rather calmer road that led to the village. "More farmland, but it's nearly as small, and most'v the families have lived there for generations. Although the people here are a bit...saltier, if you take my meaning." She didn't actually know how to explain it better than that, and it was highly probable Thanadir wouldn't take her meaning, but he'd see for himself once they got there. "I didn't realize it at first, but my gran's family's been there almost two hundred years. That's quite a bit'v time, for humans." Given that she'd been handed all this money, she was damn well going to fix up her cottage, and see if this lot would come out for dinner when it was done.

The village, as they approached, looked somewhere between picturesque, gently shabby, and oddly homey. None of the buildings were newer than forty years old, but they were well-kept, and Molly and Big Jamie contrived to hang floral pots off the lamp-posts in the spring. Siobhan's bakery was near, so Lorna made for it, relieved to find the car park largely empty. Half the town was still at work, and the other half was probably at the pub.

Earlene looked around with interest. It did look like Lasg'len. She smiled, inside of herself. Maybe she did miss the hum and vibrant energy of the city that never slept, but not enough to seek it out. Her heart yearned for quiet places. These small towns had roots that ran deep. It was nice to hear about families being in places for a very long time. "Lorna is...I am not sure how to ask this, is the name Donovan connected to this region of the country?"

"You know, I don't know," Lorna said, setting the brake and cutting the engine. "I don't know a whole lot about most'v my family, for all Gran was mad for scrapbooks. Now I've got to look it up." It wasn't a terribly common surname, but it wasn't exactly uncommon, either. "All right, everyone who wants a chocolate bun, let me know - they're Mairead's weakness, but you've got to try one before we leave."

"Let me give you the money to buy a dozen for Mairead, boxed, and whatever else everyone wants. I'll have a taste but if your Mairead is anything like the ladies at the Quilting Club, we'll be getting stuffed up one side and down the other at tea. Actually, scrap that. Get two for Thanadir and I; I'll have a bite and I'm pretty sure he would enjoy the rest of them. You and Thranduil get what you wish." She handed Lorna forty euros and started thinking about what form 'chocolate buns' might take. Settling back in, she snaked her arm around the seneschal's once again, thinking.

 _Oh, good Jesus_ , Lorna thought; Earlene had given her so much money already, but by now she knew better than to argue. "Mairead really will fill us up like stuffed bears," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'll make sure Siobhan doesn't rattle on too long." Out the door she went, stuffing the money into her pocket, trying not to shake her head. _Thranduil, if you're coming with, remember to keep your hair over your ears._ Siobhan was tall enough that she'd notice if he didn't.

With two waves of his hand, Thranduil shook his hair loose from behind his ears and gestured for Lorna to precede him. _I can ensure that she does not see my ears even if she does, Lorna. But your caution is admirable. After you, please. This is a place where bread is made?_

It is, she said, dodging puddles in the car park. The asphalt hadn't been re-done in thirty-odd years. Bread, cake, cookies, you name it. Siobhan only opened it about five years ago; before that, it was the village's one failed attempt at a fast-food restaurant, and a smoke shop before that. Businesses didn't tend to thrive in Baile unless they were something absolutely everyone wanted to frequent.

The interior of the shop was lovely and warm, and smelled of all kinds of deliciousness. Siobhan herself was on-shift, and Lorna wondered if she had time to warn him that he was about to get hit with some tremendously perverted thoughts. Siobhan was not shy about appreciating attractive people, men especially, though at least she usually kept it to herself when around strangers. The fact that it was only in her head would not spare Thranduil, however.

"I was beginning to forget what you looked like, Lorna," Siobhan said, but her eyes blatantly appraised Thranduil with a kind of cheerful, un-self-conscious appreciation. Lorna rolled her eyes. _I'm sorry in advance_ , she sent him.

"Yeah, well, I'll be out'v town for a bit yet," she said, grabbing a cardboard carton. "Mick won't have his cast off for another fortnight. Siobhan, this is Fionn - he's my new mate's husband. She's out in the van, with their other friend."

For a moment, Siobhan was visibly disappointed, but only a moment. "Welcome to Baile," she said. "Lorna, it worries me that you've got a box. Did you piss Mairead off again?"

"Not yet," Lorna said, passing it over the counter. "But I'm probably about to. I want a dozen chocolate buns, four cinnamon rolls, and a blueberry loaf." She looked at Thranduil. "Anything and everything's good in here, but the cherry tarts aren't too sweet." He didn't seem terribly keen on the sort of cavity-inducing deliciousness she, Earlene, and Thanadir seemed to prefer.

"I will place it at your discretion, Lorna. A cherry tart, then." He glanced around the shop, doing his best to suppress a smile at this mortal woman's thoughts, to which he could not afford to react. That she so openly and expansively wondered about his private anatomy and what he could do with it was unexpected; Earlene had been far more mentally modest about her physical desire for him. Siobhan's thoughts were inestimably amusing, and he was using much of his age-old discipline not to bring Earlene inside so that she could provide answers as to his talents.

His eyebrows did, however, shoot high up on his forehead when the use of chocolate syrup entered her lascivious thoughts. It was likely highly beneficial that his seneschal could not hear humans without effort; he was not certain Thanadir could easily tolerate this level of….wantonness. He found the display cases of baked goods interesting, and waited for Lorna to finish her purchases. Though, just when he was going to follow her out, he could not resist turning to the woman and giving her a broad smile. "Pleasure to meet you," he intoned, before returning to the van.

Lorna didn't miss his sudden shift of expression, and wasn't sure she wanted to know just what the hell Siobhan was thinking. Nevertheless, once they were out to the van and she'd loaded the boxes, she asked anyway. _Just how bad was it? I know Siobhan, and while she's probably more creative than most you'll find, she's not the only one you're going to have to deal with._ Given some of the things Siobhan was willing to say aloud, Lorna could only imagine - and didn't want to imagine - what went on in that perverted head of hers.

 _You are prepared to hear the answer?_ he asked.

 _If you feel the need to warn me, now I have to know,_ she said, clambering up into the driver's seat.

 _I must adhere to some level of chasteness and propriety. Yet I feel I can tell you that chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and intimate parts of my body were heavily involved. She is most….bold. This is...common, for mortal women?_

Lorna burst out laughing, cackling so hard she nearly cried as she rested her head against the steering wheel. _Are you serious? Well, she is a baker._ Oh God, Thranduil had no idea, none at all... _It can be, yes. We often make, uh, note when someone attractive walks by. Most of us are polite and keep it in our heads, but that won't protect you much._ Jesus, she had to get this under control, but that certainly explained his expression...oh, hell.

Still giggling, she managed to start the engine. There really weren't many women out there who didn't look at someone attractive and file them away for later, ah, perusal of the personal variety. Thranduil was just unfortunate enough to have to know what they were thinking - oh Christ, she hoped like hell Mairead wouldn't go thinking anything...wrong. He probably wasn't her type, but you never knew.

 _I am more than capable of overlooking the thoughts, Lorna. Though I will confess that befriending you has been far less awkward on account of the absence of them in your mind. So however odd this may sound in human terms, I sincerely thank you for not being attracted to me_. With the corners of his mouth curled up, he gazed straight ahead out the window and managed a deceptive if technically truthful cover story. "You will have to forgive Lorna," he said, glancing back at Earlene and Thanadir, who were both looking at Lorna as if slightly concerned for her sanity. "She heard something humorous from her friend who runs the bakery and has not quite recovered herself," he smiled.

Both Earlene and Thanadir nodded. Thranduil turned around to smile at both of them, and saw them seated together with Earlene holding his arm. _Thank you, meluieg, for taking care of my seneschal._

She smiled back at him. _I am uncertain who is taking care of whom. But...he is...I confess he is a bit like a teddy bear. And if you do not know what that is, I beg you to allow me to explain it later. I could not keep a straight face and right now I need to focus._

With a smile full of love he nodded before turning back to face forward. Though now, he absolutely could not eradicate from his mind wondering what Earlene would make of what this woman had desired to do to him. After all, his wife did like sweets a great deal. With a sigh, he decided it was more profitable to dismiss this line of questioning for now.

Lorna had mostly got herself under control as they pulled out onto the road, though she took the precaution of pinching the webbing between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, giving herself something to focus on as they traveled down the mostly-empty streets. _Chocolate syrup...Piece of advice_ , she said, because she had no shame and she'd really rather spare Earlene, _if you ever do want to mess about with...that...be careful where it goes. A woman can get a very unpleasant infection in a very unpleasant place._ True, he could heal it rather easily, but still. Some things were best avoided.

Thranduil's eyebrows arched up, but no response was forthcoming.

Lorna hadn't expected one, and so had time to mull her whole lack of attraction over. At first she'd assumed it was simply because they were so pale, but they were all such eye-candy that that shouldn't have mattered. Every elf she'd seen so far was inhumanly beautiful, but the key word was 'inhumanly'. To her they seemed physically like statues that lived, and one wasn't attracted to a statue - or at least, she wasn't. They were walking works of art that could be appreciated in much the same way as a painting: nice to look at, but not something she was at all tempted to touch, let alone shag. Maybe her indifference made her racist, or species-ist, but it seemed only humans were capable of getting her motor revving. Humans with a much higher melanin content. (The fact that elves actually glowed in the dark was going to make her laugh for the rest of her life. There was white, and then there was white.)

Mairead's house was one of the last in the village, right beside the low, river-rock retaining wall that separated the village from the pastures beyond. The Explorer was in the driveway - Mairead was home, though it was a bit early for Kevin. The kids would be off school, but Lorna was quite certain they were off at friends' houses - they were at that age when staying home was something you only did if you were sick.

Lorna pulled into the driveway, killing the engine. The house was on the large size, but hardly gigantic; two stories, it was built half of brick and half of wood, sturdy and tidy, if not precisely lovely. Mairead kept the yard up, though it was a bit early for most of the things she liked to be growing. "All right, shoes off at the door, or she'll find a way to murder us all," she said, and meant it. The one time she'd forgot and gone upstairs in her boots, Mairead had threatened to dangle her out an upstairs window by her ankles, and Lorna was fairly sure she'd meant it.

Earlene arched an eyebrow. She had never gone in for this "shoes off" habit where guests were concerned, especially one-time guests, but there was really no choice in the matter. She tried to remind herself to put her Friendly Face on, not her Courtroom Face. Twisting her lips into something resembling a smile, she dropped into the persona she felt was needed. Perfect posture, standing a little off to the side, and lingering behind Thranduil and Lorna. She released Thanadir's arm before exiting the van, knowing that hanging onto the body of someone beside's one's partner was not exactly a human custom. Tugging at the lapels of her jacket gently out of force of habit, she waited with the others at the front door. As an afterthought, she reached up with her hand to check that ten miles of the Necklace of Lasgalen was not showing out of the neckline of her blouse; it did not feel as though it was, but she patted the fabric together over her collarbones nevertheless.

Lorna let herself in - hell, she'd lived there for five years, and Mairead told her to keep her key. The house, as always, was warm and cozy, and smelled vaguely of lavender - Gran had given both her and Mairead a lifelong love of it. The floor of the entryway was beautifully finished oak - hence why Mairead was so draconian about shoes - giving way to linoleum as you entered the kitchen to the right. It was as big as a family of four would need, with stainless-steel appliances and wooden cabinets, the countertops shiny granite. Just now the stove had a kettle the size of a small child's head sitting on it, heating away, while something that smelled vaguely like vanilla baked in the oven.

"Oi!" Lorna called, unlacing and wrenching off her boots. "Are you dead, or what? 'Cause if you are, I want your SUV." It was an old, if morbid, ritual between them; each would enter the other's house and, upon not immediately finding the other, ask if anyone was alive.

"Over my dead body!" Mairead called, from somewhere in the lounge.

"Well, yeah," Lorna said. "Kind'v the point, that."

Mairead came into the kitchen, her eyes - very blue, just like their mother's - widened at the sight of her guests. Lorna didn't need Thranduil's telepathy to know what her sister was probably thinking: Earlene in her suit would suggest Lorna had got herself into trouble somehow, but the elves, in their odd assortment of clothes, kind of put the kibosh on that idea. Though they were sisters, they looked nothing alike; Mairead was tall and pale and freckled, her curly hair red as a carrot.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing guests," she said. "I'd've put something more in the oven. Come on in, all'v you - keep your shoes."

"How come they get to, but I don't?" Lorna asked, indignant.

"Because you live here, you eejit," Mairead said. "You did, anyway. Have you had tea yet?" she asked, her eyes traveling over the trio of Earlene and the elves (it was going to be a band name, god dammit, if it was the last thing Lorna did).

Earlene smiled a little, with approval, at being invited to keep her shoes on. And she intended to; stockings and other people's floors were rarely her concept of a good thing. Her first sight of Mairead was surprising. The home had a cozy yet orderly atmosphere, and she definitely appreciated that one glance at the kitchen revealed that this was a fellow cook. The two sisters were nothing alike, but that meant nothing; her and her brother were from different planets, as far as she was concerned. She kept her silence and what she hoped was an affable smile.

"Not yet," Lorna said. "Mairead, this Earlene Sullivan, and Fionn and Cian - they're Sullivans, too, though they're not related to Earlene. I've taken on a job with them." There, there was that out of the way - now to see what Mairead did with it.

Her sister did not disappoint. Those blue eyes could be incredibly sharp, and just now they were curious, wary, suspicious, and protective in an odd, equal-measure amalgamation. "A job doing what?" asked, her tone still light - her Company Voice, Lorna knew.

"As a Personal Assistant," Lorna said. "Earlene, she needed someone who actually knows the country on a personal level." She'd leave Thranduil and Thanadir out of it unless Mairead asked.

Now Mairead looked outright worried, though she was trying desperately not to show it. "How did this come about?" she asked, again glancing over the three.

Earlene smoothly took over. "I'm pleased to meet you," she said, offering her hand to shake without breaking eye contact. "As you can likely discern, I am American. I came to Lasg'len to retire from my position in New York City, where I worked as an attorney. Solicitor. I met Lorna some time ago, and we became friends. It became obvious to me that Lorna has skills that are valuable, and it made perfect sense to hire her, as I have in turn agreed to do some consulting work here. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have found such a discreet and capable employee. You must be very proud to have her in your family. Lorna speaks of you often, and I am very glad to finally meet you. I rather insisted on being shown a bit more of the countryside, I hope you will forgive the unannounced intrusion."

 _Oh, damn_ , Lorna thought, watching Mairead shake Earlene's hand. Mairead took measure of Earlene again, then glanced at Lorna, who could practically hear the wheels in her head spin. "What of her skills are of benefit?" she asked - her way of not-saying my sister has no education, what the hell are you having her do? "She's a capable one, but I'd not think you'd have much call for the things she's best at." Her mind had to be at war - Earlene looked legit because she was legit, but Mairead had a point. Lorna really wasn't equipped to be a conventional PA, and they couldn't really tell Mairead she wasn't a conventional PA. When she glanced at Lorna, Lorna knew exactly what she was thinking: what have you got yourself into now, little sister?

Earlene looked at Mairead with an expression that was kind but still managed to convey an air of indulging a small child with a silly question. "The business term for what is of benefit would be 'social engineering.' Out the gate, I was receiving a delivery of purchased goods valued at thousands of dollars. (Earlene was exaggerating a wee tad, but Mairead would never know the difference). The delivery driver was intent on robbing me, and while I was by no means backing down, I also was not making any headway against this individual. Inside of two minutes, Lorna managed the situation one hundred percent to my advantage. I am an outsider attempting to conduct business in a country to which I am not native. As I said, Lorna has discretion and capabilities that are precisely what I need."

A little of the tension left Mairead's posture - that was in fact something Lorna was quite good at, and had done more than once with deliveries to the pub. "Christ knows she's got enough'v a network," she said, "and she's not the sort to stand by and let someone get stepped on." That, however, brought up another worry - one that she was at least tactful enough not to bring up in English: "Lorna, nach bhfuil tú ag déanamh rud éigin mídhleathach, tá tú? Rud nach bhfuil a fhios aici faoi, go, a fháil di i dtrioblóid má tá tú gafa?" Lorna, you're not doing anything illegal for her, are you? Something she doesn't know about, that'll get her in trouble if you get caught?

Aaaand there it was. Lorna had knew it would hit sooner or later, and was glad that even Thranduil, who could read her mind, didn't speak Irish. "Bhí tú ach a i iarradh, ní raibh tú? No, Mairead, Níl mé." _You just had to ask that, didn't you? No, Mairead, I'm not_. Nevermind that that was actually technically a lie, but still.

"Tá a fhios aici do stair?" _Does she know your history?_

"Tá, i ndáiríre, déannan sí. An féidir linn titim sé anois?" _Yes actually, she does. Can we drop it now?_

"Lorna, imní orm," Mairead said - _Lorna, I worry_ \- and that was the thing: when Lorna was on her own, she seemed entirely capable, but when you got her with Mairead, she always came across...younger. More like the person she'd been eleven years ago, lost in the world. "Tá tú teacht go dtí seo, agus níl mé ag iarraidh a fheiceáil a thagann tú ar ais." _You've come so far, and I don't want to see you fall back._

"I'm not gonna," Lorna said, glowering at her. "You know why Earlene wanted to come out here and meet you? Because I've talked about you, and she knows you don't trust my bloody judgment worth a damn. You'd think I'd signed on with the mob or something, because Christ forbid Lorna get a job that actually uses more than her hands."

"That's not what I meant," Mairead protested.

"Yeah, actually, it is," Lorna said. "I know you don't think I'm stupid, but you can't tell me you think I've got sense."

Thranduil had heard more than enough, having had an early lifetime of experience in which being run down for never being able to meet the expectations of another was a prominent feature.

"Mairead," the Elvenking said in a voice that was amiable enough but with more than a few underlying hints of the force of his personality, "perhaps it would help to clear the air if I explained further. Earlene and I recently wed, and I believe we owe you thanks for the exceptional cake that was at our celebration in the village. Just as Lorna works for Earlene, Earlene works for me; it mostly has to do with sourcing and consulting for our own personal projects and interests which are on a somewhat large scale. I do not wish to sound overly rarefied, but to put it bluntly, we have the means to do as we wish. Lorna has been more than forthright with us about her colorful history. You will forgive me if I consider myself to be a reasonably good judge of character, and choose not to hold her past against her. It is somewhat apparent that you do. While your family matters are not our business, I hope we can reassure you that we feel quite happy to call your sister our friend and are grateful to have her in our employ." As he spoke, his sea blue eyes bored through Mairead, only partially veiling how disdainful he felt concerning her treatment of her sister. It was not his intention to stir trouble, but neither would he watch this go on unchallenged.

Forthright though Mairead usually was, she couldn't meet that stare for long. She looked back at Lorna, who was startled by the expression she wore: she'd never actually seen her sister look pained before. "I don't hold it against her," she sighed. "How can I? It's my bloody fault."

Lorna blinked, genuinely nonplussed. "What?"

"You think I've ever forgiven myself for not hunting the lot'v you down, after Mam died?" Mairead asked, and Christ, suddenly she looked old. "I'm your family. I should've had you all."

"Is that -" Lorna paused, because quite suddenly, so very much made sense. "For Christ's sake, Mairead, you were twenty-bloody-three years old. D'you really think you'd've got custody'v us? Any'v us?"

"Gran could've helped," Mairead sighed. "We both regretted it until the day she died."

Lorna arched an eyebrow. "Mairead, Gran chased the tax man off her land with Granddad's .12-gauge. She got you because Mam gave you to her, but she wouldn't've got us. Now will you stop with that and get the tea? Now that we've given my employers a bloody show. Christ, why in flying fuck did you not say this years ago?" she demanded, and pulled her sister into a hug. Notably, she didn't tense when she touched Mairead; family was different, to her slightly warped way of thinking.

"Because, you eejit," Mairead said. "Just because. Now let go'v me and get the teapot, will you?" She looked...drained, almost alarmingly so to Lorna's eyes, but a hostess was a hostess.

 _Sorry_ , Lorna sent Thranduil, hoping he'd pass it on to Earlene and Thanadir.

Earlene had watched this verbal ping-pong with mounting trepidation and the side of her head started to ache in a way it had not ached since she last saw her brother. Except, in her case, the familiar kind of argument was always without the happy, huggy ending. Even though mom and dad were fine with it, even though she was on a good track for success of her own, nothing she did was ever good enough and he relished running her down for not following both dad and himself into medicine. Never mind that in the end, she out-earned him three to one. There was too much poison in the water between them and she had no interest in ever trying to heal her issues with _Doctor Sullivan_. Her biggest reflection on him amounted to _Fuck You_ and this conversation had done a surprisingly good job of dredging that memory up. But this wasn't her family or her problem; she was here for Lorna and things seemed to have taken a positive turn. As she sat there without speaking, she felt Thranduil's hand gently move to the back of her neck. It was very subtle, but as he lightly rubbed the muscles there, the pain that had begun abated just as quickly. Her eyes closed for just a moment. Thank you, she said to him, already wishing on some level that they were on the way home. She was entirely too much of a hermit for this kind of thing. Or rather, she wanted to be a hermit, and it had all become a miserable failure.

Thranduil was surprised at what he saw inside of Earlene but now was not the time; he filed this away for later.

 _Lorna apologizes for her sister_ , she heard. _She wanted you to know._ A weak smile and a faint nod was all the reply Earlene gave; sadly this was familiar enough to her. Though, they usually had the good sense to keep it in the family but then again, this was Ireland.

Making tea was a ritual that could calm and soothe anyone, and Lorna and Mairead had perfected it to a dance over the years; the former filled the pot and laid out the accoutrements, while the latter took the cake from the oven, letting it cool on top of the stove while she brought out cream and sugar. Lorna picked one of Mairead's more neutral blends; her sister was partial to sweet tea, but Kevin wasn't, so they had some that wouldn't make Thranduil want to wash his mouth out.

"Wish she'd told me this years ago," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'd've slapped her head on straight. Come on, you lot - sit wherever you want," she added, gesturing to the kitchen table. Hadn't this been a drama and a half. "Mairead, I've got things from the bakery - I'll get them." The cake, while probably delicious, wasn't enough for four people, and she didn't want Mairead to die of embarrassment at being unable to feed her guests a proper tea.

Out she darted, grabbing the box, which was still slightly warm. Of course looking at it reminded her of Siobhan and her ridiculous thoughts, which in turn made her have to tamp down wholly inappropriate laughter. (Really, Siobhan? Chocolate syrup? It sounded like a recipe for some kind of fungal infection.)

"All right, Mairead, do what you want with these," she said, setting the box on the counter, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her laughter at bay - the fact that it would be so out-of-place made it that much harder to contain.

Earlene gently nudged the seneschal, who still looked faintly traumatized, and gestured that they were moving on to sit at a table. Realizing what was happening, he gave her a nod of thanks. She did not blame him in the least, if his solution to witnessing this minor squabble was to retreat into his own thoughts. It was enough that his first two visits to mortal homes had been marked by weirdness, however benign (she did not feel that her own home counted). _Would it be possible to convince Thanadir that this wasn't always the case?_ She sighed. _Here, the odds were not looking favorable._

Mairead eyed the box, and the cake, and Thanadir, and Lorna tried not to wince. Thanadir really did look slender, but to an Irish mother like Mairead, he was too skinny.

Having sampled this woman's cake already, Earlene was debating between the bakery cake and the cake cake. The box was being nudged around the table. And the cake was sliced into five divisions. She felt fairly certain that in her present state she could not eat an entire baked good. Placing one slice of Mairead's cake on Thanadir's plate, and one on her own, she calculated that she could easily give another half of hers to Thanadir. The table was far too quiet, and Earlene had no wish for this visit to end an awkward mess. Here goes, she thought. "My gran was from Ireland, Mairead, and she could bake but not nearly as well as you. Did you go to culinary school? The cake you made really was wonderful." That was more than enough for any normal person to grab onto, she reasoned, as she looked up with a smile.

"Was she?" Mairead asked, genuinely interested - amusingly, the Irish could be rather like hobbits when it came to family trees. "I'm glad you've enjoyed it - I used to make wedding cakes for everyone, but it'd been a while before Lorna set me to it. I learned from my gran, but I'm not as good as she was. She could make a cake without eggs that actually tasted like a cake, which I'm pretty sure shouldn't be possible." She brought out a large stack of napkins, just to be careful, and set one of the chocolate buns on Thanadir's plate. "Eat up, lad. You need a bit'v meat on your bones."

Lorna groaned. She'd known that would happen, and that it was inescapable, but still. "Mairead, don't badger him," she said. "You've only just stopped doing that to me."

"Only because I know it won't do any good with you," Mairead said, taking the strainer out of the pot and bringing it to the table. "You lot ought to stop by the pub, sooner or later," she said. "It's where Lorna's worked for years, and Big Jamie'll want to meet you. He's the older brother Lorna never actually asked for." He was not, however, over-protective like Mairead. Lorna did feel rather guilty about having to make him hire somebody new, and she intended to stay on part time while he trained them.

"What county was your gran from, Earlene? You sound like you're from...New York?" Mairead hazarded. "I don't know too much about American accents." She eyed the elves, and Lorna knew she was itching to ask them where they were from, too, given that their accent was totally unidentifiable.

"She was from here. Belfast. But she came to the States a long time ago, in 1912. Gran was an infant, and when she grew up she married an Irish American who wasn't first generation. By the time I came along, any chance at me having an accent was totally out the window. And yes, I am from New York City. I lived and worked there for more than the last ten years. Though gran lived upstate; she had a farm." It was nice of her to ask, Earlene thought. It made her feel a little less ridiculously invisible.

Lorna could see Mairead mentally revise her assumption of Earlene's age. It wasn't surprising; Earlene looked like she could be in her twenties. "She got out before the Rising," she said. "And now you've come home. Everyone that left, they always wanted their descendants to come home. She'd be happy you were here now. And if you haven't got any siblings you've not asked for yet, you will soon enough."

"Here's the thing you three'll learn about tiny Irish villages: anyone's business is everyone's," Lorna said. Earlene already had, whether she knew it or not: Lorna was something of a professional little sister, whether she wanted to be one or not.

"I will keep that in mind," Earlene grinned, trying to seem affable when in truth she had no idea what to say. Thranduil, however, seemed determined to be social today.

"Thank you, for the tea," he said, while vaguely hoping that Thanadir had not come across the colloquialism 'lad'. Though usually resourceful, he was at a loss as to how to continue the discussion. He saw in Lorna's mind that her sister was employed arranging...hair, and with hair being rather close to ears, this might be an entirely unsafe topic of conversation. Given what the last mortal female wished to do to him, it was not too far-fetched to fear that such an inquiry might land her hands running through either of their hair...though Valar be praised, this one did not harbor carnal thoughts toward him. _Lorna, we do not wish to appear rude but none of us have any idea what to say._

 _Don't worry, I've got this_. Lorna knew well how to handle her sister at tea, and made sure to ask about all the little goings-on of the village, explaining them to Earlene and the elves as if acclimating them to the vagaries of rural Irish life. Given that Baile was in many ways like Lasg'len, much of it would be familiar to the three.

"Niamh's been out to light the fire at your cottage every few days," Mairead said. "I think she might want to move in."

"Not a chance," Lorna warned. "I'll be back here once my time with Mick's done, and I'll just be doing traveling for work." There was no way she could give up Gran's cottage; it was hers now, too. "Earlene, she's got a lovely cottage - it reminds me'v Gran's, though it's seen improvements more recently than Gran's."

"They stand forever for a reason," Mairead said to Earlene, bringing out a second pot of tea that likely nobody actually needed - but this was Ireland, and that was what you did.

"True," said Earlene. "I had a decent amount of retrofitting and work done before moving into it, but the place is over a hundred years old. It wasn't going anywhere, and the structure on both house and barn were very solid. Do you know who built your gran's cottage?"

"Great-great Granddad," Mairead said. "I think it was...Christ, 1878? Maybe a little earlier. Lorna kept up work on it even when Gran was alive - Gran wouldn't hire help, but Lorna was family."

The conversation descended into the vagaries of caring for an ancient cottage, the hassle of getting out supplies and work, while Mairead tried desperately to feed Thanadir more buns and Lorna patiently rescued him, insisting that he could eat them on the trip home. By the time they'd cleared away the tea and cake, Lorna felt fairly calm - though she felt a spike of equal parts fondness and exasperation when Mairead pulled her aside and told her to find out if Thranduil had a brother, because yes, he was a bit on the pretty side, but he seemed nice and surely his brother would be nice, too? Lorna, who was rapidly coming to think of Thranduil as some kind of brother himself, felt rather ill, and had to assure Mairead that he was in fact an only child.

"Let me know next time you're in the village," Mairead said, pressing a package of various treats into Lorna's hands. "We miss you, allanah. Pub's not the same without you."

"I will," she said. "But we've got to get off now. Give Kevin a dig in the ribs for me." She had never forgiven her brother-in-law for trying to deep-fry a turkey on the nice fancy barbecue she'd bought with some of her hard-earned money, only to light the entire thing on fire and force her to shove it off the end of the deck.

"Oh, away with you," Mairead said, waving them off as they got into the van.

"Christ," Lorna sighed. "All right, now what?"

"I vote for alcohol or going home," said Earlene, realizing after the words were out how that might have sounded. "I don't mean to run your family down, Lorna, I apologize for how that probably sounded. It is only that...there was far too much of a reminder of me and my brother mixed up in all that. You must feel exhausted. Thranduil? Thanadir?"

Thanadir, who offered no reply, was originally meant to take the front seat on the way home but she silently asked Thranduil if they could keep their seating. The only thing worse than her present level of tension would be to watch Thanadir's pitiful expression from the back seat while feeling powerless to do anything about it. It didn't matter that she had no idea what he was thinking. He was turning into a walking security blanket and if Thranduil encouraged it, she wasn't going to argue. But she did leave him the window seat, again.

Gathering the sum of his wife's thoughts, he declared, "I believe we have time for one Guinness at the pub." Which apparently settled the matter.

That sounded like an excellent plan, though Lorna would only have half a pint. Technically she could probably handle a full one and be under the legal limit, but she didn't need to be freaking out her passengers.

"You'll love this pub," she said, pulling out of the driveway. "It's called Jamie's, because the oldest son'v the family that's run it for eighty years has been called Jamie, so it's passed down, sort'v thing."

"Well that is less inflammatory to American ears than 'The Spotted Dick' ", Earlene quipped, smiling.

There was more traffic now, though, as with Lasg'len, 'traffic' was a relative term. The streetlights had kicked on with the onset of evening, and there were plenty of people out and about on the pavements when Lorna parallel parked outside the pub. The name of it was stenciled on the window in green and gold leaf, the low light of the room beyond making it glow somewhat.

The pub was big, a little bigger than Lasg'len's, the bar and floor of the same dark, shining wood, kept mirror-polished by Big Jamie and his two bar hands, Michael and Lorna. It smelled like alcohol and sandalwood, the top-shelf liquors behind the bar shining like jewels in the lamplight. This was a place of peace for Lorna - there had never been any stress for her here, save for the few fights she'd had to break up over the years. It was only half-full now, but it would fill up soon enough.

Big Jamie, who lived up to his name, was at the bar, and he grinned when he saw her. He was nearly as tall as Thranduil, broad in the shoulders and in the gut, his face as red as his hair. "Where the hell'v you been, Stranger?" he mock-demanded, coming out from behind the counter to pick her up in a bear hug, lifting her right off her feet. He was another of the precious few who could touch her without her wanting to freak out.

"Oi, enough'v that," she said. "I'm only here for a bit. I've taken on a second job - this lot're my employers."

"Hello," Earlene said brightly, liking the look of the friendly man. "I'm Earlene, this is my man Fionn, and this is Cian. It's very nice to meet you."

Hands were shaken all around and the necessary and obvious drinks ordered. Earlene wondered if she should get something much stiffer than Guinness into Thanadir, but it was not her place to suggest any such thing. She kept quiet, and let that she swallowed a third of the glass in one go speak for itself. God help them, if anyone pawed at her. _Just, god help them._

Thranduil, who Earlene was realizing was an extremely phelgmatic individual, smiled and sipped at his glass, more or less absorbing what was occurring around him.

Lorna had to field many questions about her new friends, and she tried like hell to keep them from getting swarmed by every busybody in Baile. They were, in very short order, pronounced 'a good sort', and then she had to fend off far more free drinks than any reasonable person, even an elf, could consume.

Big Jamie kept them up with pub snacks, but he eyed Thranduil and Thanadir with faint puzzlement, as though he couldn't quite figure out why he was eyeing them. They didn't see many one might call 'exotic' in Baile, which those two certainly were, in their own way, but Lorna doubted he'd be able to figure it out.

"We've another newcomer," he said. "I've been half thinking'v offering him your job," he added, teasing. "He's Doc Barry's cousin or something like that - Scottish bloke, and a doctor." He pointed at a table near the massive fireplace, where the village doctor sat with possibly the prettiest man Lorna had ever seen in her entire life. Seriously...wow.

He was Indian, or so he looked, just like Doc Barry; probably had a Scottish parent and an Indian one, like the Doc did. Clear skin the color of teak, black hair with a slight wave to it, probably close to Thranduil's height, if she was any judge...pretty. He was pretty, and for the first time in her life, she felt too awkward to approach someone. "What's his name?"

"Ratiri Duncan," Big Jamie said. "Dunno if he's staying here or not yet."

 _Stay here_ , Lorna thought. _STAY HERE_. She wished she had Thranduil's telepathy and ability to influence minds.

 _Go meet him_ , she heard. _You will regret it if you do not._

Lorna looked back at Thranduil with a cocked eyebrow, fully expecting to see teasing etched on his face. But nothing was there, and he quietly turned to Thanadir to speak to him very softly in Sindarin while Earlene stood nearby, hoping for a chance to catch something more than the word "the". To her surprise there were some that flew by her awareness; conjugations of "come", "go", the odd preposition...not much, really, but anything was an improvement she could feel good about. She saw that Lorna was walking over to speak with a man and a woman at a table; one was apparently a local physician. The man was handsome in a sort of way but...she peered up over her glass at her husband, who was beyond Michelangelo's David, in her estimation. His fair skin and ethereal blue eyes...she sighed. No one else was ever going to look remotely interesting by comparison, and that was completely fine with her.

Lorna wasn't nervous, she wasn't, because she didn't get nervous, dammit. Yes, this lad was very pretty - and more like her age, so 'lad' didn't exactly work - but she'd talked to lots of men. (But this one was so. Damn. Pretty. Christ, Thranduil was going to laugh at her until the end of time. At least she wasn't having actual pervy thoughts.)

"We don't see many new people," she said, waiting for Doc Barry to wave her to sit. "I think I was the last one, and I turned up eleven years ago."

"I wasn't intending to stay," the pretty man said, "but I think I might. I'm Ratiri."

"Lorna," she said, shaking his hand - naturally, it was far larger than her own, with long surgeon's fingers. "You could do worse. You'll not find a better pub anywhere else in Ireland." She wished the village had something else to recommend it; unfortunately, there wasn't much. "What's brought you here?"

"I needed a change," he said, eying his mug of Guinness. She didn't know the regions of Scotland very well, but she thought his accent sounded vaguely Glaswegian. "Wasn't anything in Scotland for me anymore."

"That sounds familiar," Lorna said, sipping her own Guinness, careful not to give herself a foam mustache. "Well, the weather here's no worse than Scotland, and you're less likely to get punched in the face if you follow the wrong football team."

"Oi, not so fast there!" Big Jamie called. "It's happened."

"Ignore him. He just likes a good story, whether it actually happened or not."

Ratiri had thought he'd met everyone in Baile, though he supposed he'd vaguely overheard someone mention a temporarily absentee bartender. He hadn't expected them to be a truly tiny woman with green eyes and silver in her hair - a tiny woman with a heavy accent and a voice he could listen to all day, even if he did have a bit of a hard time understanding her. "Some things are the same no matter what country you're in," he said, and Christ, didn't her eyes light up when she laughed.

"Mind you, we did have a pub fight that ended with someone getting knocked out with a bar stool," she said, neglecting to mention that she'd done the knocking. "I think all our countries share that, too. A pub fight's a pub fight."

To his disappointment, he noticed she had a wedding-ring glinting on her left hand. "What does your husband do?"

Lorna stilled. "He's dead," she said. "I've just never taken it off."

Well, now he felt nice and wretched. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Sure you had no way'v knowing," she said gently. "I know it's a bit weird, keeping it on all this time."

"I did, too," he admitted. "Not easy to let go." It had only been within the last year that he'd taken it off, in fact, though Katherine had been dead nearly twenty years. Ovarian cancer had taken her at twenty-five, and that had been that for Ratiri, until he met this tiny woman and went and put his foot in it. "When, ah, when will you be back for good?"

"I've got another fortnight as a mechanic," she said, taking a long pull off her glass. "I might travel a bit, with my new job, but I doubt it'll be that much." She nodded at Earlene and the elves - they looked content enough, for now. The locals were obviously a bit too interested, though harmless. "Earlene, she's hired me on as a personal assistant, though so far that's mostly consisted of me dealing with gobshites who'd try to cheat a foreigner."

Ratiri burst out laughing. Lorna might be Irish, but she already sounded like she'd be right at home in Glasgow. "Well, when you're back...look me up," he said, trying not to sound awkward and utterly failing. He'd never known how to talk to women; Katherine had had to do most of the work in that regard, because he'd been so painfully shy at twenty-three. "Right now I'm roughing it on this one's sofa, but I'll be looking for a flat meantime."

Doc Barry chose this moment to elbow him, and say, "Give her your bloody number, you spoon."

Watching him flounder made Lorna feel rather better about her own awkwardness, especially as she wrote her own number on a slightly stained napkin with the Doc's rather leaky pen, trading Ratiri. "Sooner or later I've got to get this lot home," she said. "Cian, he's not so fond'v driving after dark."

"Can't blame him," Ratiri said. "Irish drivers are as insane as we've got them in Glasgow, and that's really saying something." Her hair looked so very soft, and he found himself wanting to touch it - not in a skeevy way, but just...because. She was so small she seemed rather doll-like, but far too tough to actually be a doll. Perhaps fey would be a better word - an overgrown fairy, beautiful in a slightly wild sort of way. The kind of fae that lured good travelers off their paths, and did God knew what to them. He probably shouldn't find that as attractive as he did.

"You've no idea," she said, grinning, only for Big Jamie to call over, "Don't ever let her drive you anywhere. I made the mistake'v letting her drive me to Dublin when my truck was on the blink, and I thought I'd die'v heart failure right there on the motorway."

"Hush, you," Lorna said, glowering at him before turning back to Ratiri. Unfortunately, out of the corner of her eye she spotted Niamh, Mairead's youngest - seventeen, as tall and red-haired as her mother, and currently making heart-eyes at Thanadir. Oh good grief...hopefully the girl wouldn't actually do anything. Lorna really didn't want to have to intervene, but she'd need to rescue Thanadir if Niamh was daft enough to approach him. And - oh sweet Christ, in came Siobhan and her sister Molly, who ran the Market. _Sorry, Thranduil_ , she thought.

Siobhan arched an eyebrow, but dutifully took a table by the fireplace with her sister - admittedly, she nudged Molly and whispered, but at least they'd keep it to themselves, and Molly was markedly less of a pervert than Siobhan. Hot on their heels was Nuala, Doc Barry's lone nurse, who was the closest thing to a Goth the village could boast, though she was too lazy to do much more than dye her hair and test some very odd makeup. Mick and Alec, the twin drunks who had initially been the bane of Lorna's existence, followed shortly after - already two sheets to the wind, by the look of it, and intent on chasing their way to the third.

The pair of them and Nuala all paused a moment, taking in their newcomers with the kind of measured, inspecting not-quite-stare that only the residents of small towns were capable of. Big Jamie seemed pleased by them, and was the weather-vane within his own pub.

Old Orla (called such to distinguish her from Young Orla, Big Jamie's wife) meandered in behind them, bearing her knitting bag. Once a schoolteacher, she now spent most of her time knitting sweaters and looking after her eight cats. To Lorna's dread, she zeroed in on Thanadir like a shark - Lorna wasn't sure which was worse, Orla or Niamh. Orla would pinch his cheeks, but Niamh would attempt to flirt, and doubtless embarrass both of them. Thanadir was too damned polite to put them off.

"Nuala!" she called, in what could only be described as a stage-whisper. "Nuala, will you corral Old Orla? Little old ladies like my friend over there way too much, and he doesn't know what to do with it."

Nuala blinked, peering around Mick. "When the hell did you get back?"

"I'm just here for the evening," Lorna said. "Seriously though, will you deal with her? Cian, he's got the sort'v face little old ladies just want to pinch, and you know she'd do it."

Nuala perused Thanadir, and Thranduil, and Earlene, and - oh God, Lorna hadn't prepared Thranduil for the possibility women would have pervy thoughts about Earlene, but Nuala just might, because Earlene looked just like her type. "Knowing Orla, she'd pinch his arse while she was at it," she said. "I'm on it, but you owe me a pint."

"Put it on my tab," Lorna sighed, glancing back at Ratiri. She wondered what he was making of this village so far. At least nobody could call us boring, she thought. "Have you been in here much, since you got to Baile?"

"Every night," he assured her. "I have some idea what I'm getting myself into, moving here."

Doc Barry snorted. "No, you really don't, but that's no bad thing. I'd never leave. There are some right mentallers in here, sure, but that just makes it more entertaining."

Niamh, damn her, was sidling up to Thanadir - Nuala had rescued him from Old Orla, but Lorna was actually going to have to get off her arse and do something about this.

Niamh had no idea who this young man was at first, but word traveled around the pub fast: he was somehow connected to Aunt Lorna's new bosses (and what was up with that? Mam would know), and he had the kind of eyes that made her sigh. So she took her gin-and-tonic and slowly made her way along the bar, too shy to approach him more directly. Eventually, she made it close enough to say, "Hi," and actually be heard.

Thanadir turned slowly, not being entirely certain that he was the intended target of the greeting; his mind had been exceedingly occupied with both his observations of the human world and his inner level of discomfort at being in it. The latter surprised him; he had not always been this way, and it had not overly perturbed him to interact with the residents of his village...but perhaps that was the thing, it was Lasg'len. The humans there dwelled on their figurative doorstep whereas for long centuries this place had fallen under the umbrella of ed i arnad (outside the kingdom). His eyes fell on a mortal female, barely at their own age of majority, from the looks of her. She had coloring much like the one whose dwelling they had visited. He did not wish to be rude. "Hello," he replied; perhaps just as at the party, she was introducing herself. The humans seemed to like to do this.

Even his voice was pretty, though she had no idea where his accent was from. "I hear you're with my aunt Lorna's new boss?" she said, half a question, almost too shy to look at him.

 _Oh, Christ. Thranduil, I'm about to lie out my arse to my niece - tell Thanadir to run with it, will you?_ "Be right back," Lorna said to Ratiri. "I've got to go rescue Cian from my niece." Hoisting herself over the back of her chair, she wove through the patrons until she reached Niamh's other side.

"You've met Cian, have you?" she asked. "He's just got out'v University." _Translation: he's too old for you, kid_. She silently prayed Niamh wouldn't ask too many questions, because she was a shit liar, Thanadir knew nothing about the modern Irish education system, and honestly, this all had the potential to go very, very wrong. Shit. "English isn't his first language," she added.

Unfortunately, that left her wide open to Niamh's next question: "Where's he from?"

Lorna's brain went blank. Literally, entirely blank. "Wales," she said - the first thing that came to mind, based solely on the fact that Welsh seemed to be partly based off Sindarin. "A little town I can't pronounce, where they don't learn English at school."

"Then why's his name Irish?" Niamh asked, her eyes flicking from Thanadir to her aunt, and back again. "And why can't you pronounce it? You speak Welsh." Now there was outright suspicion in her tone.

"No, I mangle Welsh," Lorna corrected. _Um. Um. Shit. Thranduil, help. Distract my niece - I can't lie to save my bloody life._

Thanadir felt genuinely puzzled as to what was now occurring, and his eyebrows were raising even more as to why untruthful statements were being made about him to this young firieth. In a moment of irritation, his placid exterior dissolved, replaced by the stern seneschal. Earlene saw this in an instant and immediately realized something was very wrong, and for whatever reason, this interaction tipped her personal pressure gauge into the red zone. She laid a hand on his arm and spoke softly but urgently to him in Sindarin. "Thandir, an i ngell nîn, mabo nin ed hi...thi." (Thanadir, please take me out of here...now). Looking down at her, his features altered again and without hesitation, he offered his arm to his Queen. With a glance that was half apologetic, half angry, Earlene spoke."You will please excuse us, I am not feeling well." No further explanation was given, and Earlene and Thanadir simply left, leaving Thranduil, Lorna, and a very baffled young Niamh standing there.

"Oh, well done, Niamh," Lorna said, shaking her head. "Here's a tip: next time you see a lad you like - one your own age, I might add - don't give him the bloody third degree. Wait for him to offer you something."

Niamh arched one very red eyebrow. "Because you've done so well yourself," she said, almost a drawl as she glanced briefly at Ratiri.

"Shut your gob or I'll shut it for you," Lorna said, hoping like hell Thanadir was all right. That was a sign they ought to be heading out, to her disappointment; she'd wanted a bit more time to talk to Ratiri, but she had his mobile number, and he had hers. She could easily come back for another day-trip or two before her time with Mick was over. "Now go get yourself ossified."

She left her niece at the bar, making her regretful way to Ratiri. "I'd best get this lot home," she said, "but it was grand meeting you, and I'll give you a ring next evening I've got off. If we're lucky, our downtime will sync up sooner or later."

He gave her a smile that was practically heart-stopping, and all the more endearing for how awkward it was. She was bad at this, but he was, too, so she felt a bit better. "I'll hold you to it," he said.

If Lorna had slightly more spring in her step once she'd left the pub...well, it was getting dark. Hopefully nobody would notice. Once everyone was in, she fired up the engine and headed out of town.

Earlene breathed a mildly buzzed sigh of relief to be loaded up in the van and headed homeward again. Though mostly she'd really enjoyed the outing, there were things about it that hadn't worked. At all. _What in hell is happening to me?_ she asked herself. _All these years at a high-powered job with being as extroverted as I ever needed to be, and now I'm caving over an afternoon trip to a small village?_

 _But it was never really you, was it now?_ came back the mildly unwelcome answer.

A dark thought crossed her mind. _And who am I, exactly?_ That she had no clear answer was not particularly something she wanted to think about right now. Reflexively, she slid her hand through Thanadir's arm again, and leaned her head against his shoulder, just to close her eyes for awhile. _I'm from New York City, goddammit_ , the internal argument continued, with her unable to reconcile the view she'd had of herself for so long with the feelings now being experienced. _Yes but you aren't there any more, are you?_ said some spiteful part of her. And in a flash, she realized that maybe this was all going to end with the inevitable need to face her past in a way she'd been certain she would never want or need. It took a lot, but for a short moment she did her level best to still her mind and therefore block her thoughts from Thranduil. _I'm going to have to go back, even if it is just for a little while. Jesus. And I don't believe in Jesus._

From the front seat, Thranduil silently asked his seneschal to put his arm around Earlene. He'd not meant to ignore all of the assorted things that had erupted within her today but they had seemed more...inconsequential...until now. While he couldn't comprehend everything, he knew that she had buried something from him, and that alone seemed alarming; it was not her way. And he could do absolutely zero about any of it, until later.

Too mentally fried to resist, Earlene let herself be held against Thanadir, where the sound of his heartbeat gave her something else to think about, something soothing. Taking only the time to announce that she needed to stop at Aislinn's on the way home for kitten food, she fell silent and still.

Lorna was as quiet as everyone else on the drive home, sensing they all needed a rest, though she told Earlene she'd stop in at the shop. _Hey Thranduil?_ she asked at last. _Whenever you've got time, I think I'll take you up on your offer about Liam. If I'm ever to manage anything with Ratiri - if that properly becomes an option - I need to deal with this first._ Though he'd told her he was difficult to shock, and though he'd assured her she didn't need to feel concerned for his mental well-being, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of dumping that memory on him. A certain level of concern was simply built into her being, part of the bedrock that was Lorna that would never be expunged. Logically, she knew he'd seen worse - and wasn't that a horrifying thought - but she herself couldn't imagine worse, so yeah, there was a little guilt. Hopefully he'd understand that, and wouldn't hold it against her. _I realize this is cheating, but...did I make a half decent impression? What did he think of me?_

Thranduil reflected on this... _cheating, indeed_. He counselled himself that he needed to be careful not to upset the balance of Lorna's life. In the easy camaraderie he'd found with her, he perhaps had been somewhat incautious regarding what he'd been willing to tell her. And from long years of rulership, he knew one thing: when in doubt, defer. _I will help you, Lorna. Perhaps in the days ahead, you will have some time to return to my Halls. We can discuss this, and many other things. For now I will only say, you made a very favorable impression. But, I did not require telepathy to perceive this._

That was all Lorna needed to know. She smiled in the twilight, in a way she hadn't smiled in over eleven years. _Thank you_ , she said. _It's been a long time since...well. Since something might even approximately be a possibility - that I'd even want it to be_. She didn't even fully know what it was about Ratiri - yes, he was gorgeous, but she'd seen a number of very pretty men in her life, and not been drawn to them like she was to Ratiri. At the risk of sounding like a complete and utter fucking sap, there was something about him, some elusive quality, that felt...well, like coming home. He was the sort she wanted as a friend, even if it never went beyond that - but she'd quite like if it did go beyond that. She'd spent the last eleven years just sort of existing, content, even happy at times, but without any real thought for the future. Now...now there was a future to think of.


	25. Chapter 25

It was dusk by the time they reached the cottage, and Lorna dropped off her passengers. "Sorry about...that," she said. "Someday you'll have to see the village again, if you're still willing, when there's not loads of family drama." And when she'd done some warning that Thanadir was not to be hit on. Her attempt to spare him Niamh's attention had been pretty disastrous - even she could see that. If he wasn't willing to wear a fake wedding ring, she'd come up with some other story. She wasn't such a shit liar when it was premeditated; it was only when she tried to do it on the fly that she was total pants at it.

She winced a bit when Earlene gave a rather overly-polite goodbye and stormed into the house - Lorna couldn't blame her a bit, either. To have that be possibly her first experience outside Lasg'len aside from arriving in Ireland...Christ. Well, the three of them could relax and de-stress, and possibly drink. God knew she needed one. Or five. Hopefully John wouldn't ask her too many questions - then again, as a lifelong resident of a little Irish village, he'd probably totally understand if she gave him a broad view. Every village had a Mairead, though she hadn't yet worked out who Lasg'len's was. "Look after, her will you?" she said, to both the elves. "If I was her, I'd need it. Dealing with my sister can be a pain in the arse for me, let alone anyone else."

Lorna's van hummed off into the distance as Earlene plunked the bag of kitten chow onto the counter, and the box of litter on the floor. The first thing she did was find Tail's bowl and fill it with the food. It was not her first choice of brands. She told Aislinn what kind she wanted, and that she'd rather buy it from her than Amazon if she'd be willing to carry it. And as Aislinn's level of enthusiasm for the idea had been unclear, time would tell on that small matter. Next she found Tail's improvised litter box and took it outside; it did not appear to have been meaningfully soiled so she simply scattered the contents around the grasses in a less travelled area of the yard. Once back inside, she filled the box with real litter and placed it in the barely used office; hopefully out of the way and in a place that would not cause olfactory offense. Two real litter boxes and scoops were already on order, as was a shamelessly indulgent assortment of cat toys and a laser pointer.

Tail had arrived and was affectionately coming unnervingly close to shredding her stockings, which caused her to disappear into the bedroom, since dealing with all this while not in her best suit was a wiser idea. She did not appear to notice that whereas Thanadir had returned at once to his computer after tending to the wood stove (days ago he had been shown the concept of its function, and now it was rare that Earlene or Thranduil ever managed to touch the thing), Thranduil had basically stood there, watching her bustle around. When she emerged, Thranduil noticed with a raised eyebrow that she was wearing garments he did not usually see her in before bedtime. Flitting around to care for a few last things for the kitten, she approached her husband at last. "I am very tired and I want to go to bed. There is soup, bread, wine and a fruit salad here if you are hungry. May I?" she asked, still not really looking at him.

Frowning, he embraced her. "Of course, meluieg. Come." He led her back into the bedroom, and waited for her while she cared for human matters. "Would you like me to rub your back?" he asked kindly. For the first time she met his eyes briefly, considering, and finally she nodded. Before crawling into bed, she had donned flannel sleepwear but left the buttons undone, allowing the shirt portion to slip off of her shoulders. After she had buried her face against the pillow, he kissed her on the cheek before his warm hands found her shoulders. He both felt and heard her relaxing under his touch, as a huge sigh escaped her. From past experience, he knew to tread carefully. Something had bothered her a great deal, but he sensed that part of her frustration was that she herself did not understand its source. This was no time to try to extract answers, so instead he gave what comfort he could. For such a brief and allegedly simple excursion into the human world, more had happened than he could have imagined.

With a small smirk of chagrin, he realized that any thoughts of exploring chocolate syrup with his wife were going to have to wait. Small noises of contentment escaped her as he saw her determination to avoid thinking and fall asleep; perhaps retiring so early was her way of deferring having to reflect on the day. Though, he did feel that her mental fatigue had manifested physically; she had not been untruthful. He exercised what he thought of as his kingly prerogative; inside of about five minutes, she was sound asleep. As he gazed down on her flawless skin and glossy hair, he could not resist reaching out a finger to trace across her cheek and lips. To him, she was the loveliest creature on this world; even though the physical beauty of his first wife had perhaps exceeded that of Earlene's, he now realized that for all her charms, Alassëa had lacked an inner loveliness that Earlene possessed in abundance. "i firieth vain nîn," (my beautiful mortal) he whispered, as he tugged the covers over her shoulder. Rising, he left the room soundlessly and extinguished the light.

With a sigh he returned to Thanadir, continuing to speak to him in English even though it was not their ordinary custom. "We are alone for dinner this evening, my old friend. Are you hungry?"

The seneschal looked up from his reading and given the forced informality of their circumstances, allowed a smile to creep over his face. "When in the last fifteen millennia have you known me to be physically whole and incapable of eating?" he gently teased.

Thranduil had begun to wonder if he had made a grave error, by not insisting on this change in their relationship a good ten thousand years ago. While the pull of tradition was yet very strong for him as well, having the experience of Thanadir unfold out of his stiff formality had proven both enjoyable and insightful. With a chuckle, Thranduil went to set the food to slowly heat, ensuring that the kettle of water was over a very low flame so that it would not accidentally scream.

"What are your thoughts on your first real foray into their world, Thanadir? Arguably you have now seen more of them than I have."

A long pause ensued while the best answer was considered. "I could not understand all of what was spoken today, at Lorna's sister's home. But I believe that many, even most of them are not like Earlene. With one notable exception, the others I have met are kind and appear to mean well, but they are also...how to say this? Undisciplined, erratic in their social interactions. Their homes are comfortable, though not like those of our people...and yet not so different. The device in which we sat, the van...that is surely a marvel. There are many marvels, that the humans seem to take for granted, and I would guess I have only encountered a few of them. It was difficult for me to not compare all those I met against Earlene and Lorna. And if you will forgive me, I have a sense that Earlene is somehow more like we are, though I do not understand how that could be. I do like Lorna very much but it is not...calm, to be around her."

Thranduil grinned, at hearing this assessment. "I cannot disagree, though I confess that the lack of calmness is perhaps what I find most enjoyable in Lorna. When you went to the quilting group, were those there like Lorna?"

Thanadir laughed, still amused at the memory. "No. They were very different. The woman who lived there, she had three of these." His finger pointed downward to Tail, who was already belly up on his lap. "But they were gigantic, with very long hair, and...if I did not know better, I would say that the woman existed to be seneschal to her cats. Many of the other women there criticized the cats but I had to admit, there was much amusement to be had. It was pleasant to see that humans take so much enjoyment in simple delights. I do not know why we elves did not keep such things as these, in ages past," he said, as he dangled his finger against Tail's diminutive paw pad, always jerking it back before the needle sharp claws could gain a purchase on his skin. "They really are quite delightful," he said softly, as he smiled at the kitten's antics.

"I think the easy answer is, you and I are older than the domestication of these creatures. In the First Age of Arda, the closest we were going to get to that endearing kitten was the wild cats of the far southern lands, and certainly no one was about to have one of them inside of a Palace. Or a home, or a talan." Thranduil shook his head, at just how much time had passed before their eyes. Taking a deep breath, he decided it was long past time to have a different kind of discussion.

"Thanadir, how much do you actually know of Earlene? About her life, I mean. Whence she came and who she was, prior to coming to this place."

Thanadir looked up, frowning. "Very little. Our relationship has ever been that I am told your wishes, and see them done. It does not occur to me to ask, my….Thranduil. I have cared for her as you have instructed. Forgive me, it is yet difficult to address you informally."

"Then I think it is time that I remedy that gap in your knowledge. It would seem that she has taken easily to you. It is very different than it was with Alassëa, is it not?" he asked with a smile.

Thanadir remembered well the stiff and distant demeanor of the former Queen, who seemed to take some measure of delight in thwarting his attempts to carry out His Majesty's instructions for her well-being. Though he had won out in the end, especially when her pregnancy with the Prince had reduced her to a state of greater need of assistance, it had been many centuries of exasperating trials before they reached an understanding. Which was to say, before she reached an understanding of his value as a caregiver. With a sigh, he answered. "Yes, very different indeed. A thousand years of my service might have been far easier, had Alassëa been as Earlene is."

"Earlene was resistant, in her own way. It took me awhile to break down her belief that she has brought your life to ruin. Though, she still thinks that in some capacity, she no longer resists," Thranduil said with humor.

"She thinks what?" Thanadir was uncertain he had just understood correctly.

"Before she met you, she was told of your role in my service. I confess that I mentioned that you were stern, and deeply interested in matters of orderliness and propriety. She wished very much to gain if not your favor, the avoidance of your disapproval. But it was not out of self-interest," he said softly. "I did not have to explain to her how much you have done for me in all our time together for her to perceive it. Or at least, perceive it as best she could with her limited awareness of us. She is grateful to you, Thanadir, because she knows you can give what she cannot...a continuance of care for me, after the years granted to her are gone. And that being said, she fears that my finding myself wed to her has proven to be a great disruption in the ordinary pattern of your life with me; one she did not wish you to have to experience."

Thanadir was stunned to hear this, and realized that in truth he obviously did know nothing about her.

"I think I should start at the beginning. You heard what you needed to know when she was first brought to my Halls, but I think it is time you hear the unvarnished truth of the entire tale. I owe it to you and the relationship she is forming with you." With a sigh, and with interruptions for tea and food, he carefully related all the relevant details of their relationship to date. Given that this was Thanadir, there was little need for him to edit his tale, though any reference to intimacy was mentioned respectfully and with delicate enough language. That being said, little was left to the imagination. From their first encounter, to his disastrous handling of her survival of a great tragedy of their world and beyond, he omitted nothing. Thanadir kept his silence except for when words were used that came outside of his ability to comprehend, like "litigator."

When Thranduil was done at last, he simply stopped talking; this was the age-old signal that it was now time for questions or comments. And he grew slightly uncomfortable, because it was rapidly becoming apparent that his seneschal was speechless.

"I would not fault you", he continued, "if I have earned your censure for my actions. There were many missteps and much of what I did was simply...wrong. And yet it was wrong only in hindsight. It was wrong when I realized far too late how rare Earlene is. In all my years I have never tried to navigate something like this, and I now cannot undo what was done."

Thanadir raised his eyes to his King and said in honest assessment, "Even were it my place to criticize you, which it is not, those are not the thoughts that come to mind. If all is as you say it is, I would conclude that you are immeasurably fortunate. Do not take my words to imply doubt. It is only that I do not share her mind as you do, so I am taking into account only your observations and impressions."

"Perhaps you should consider it."

"Consider…? I am sorry, I do not understand."

"Perhaps you should make the effort and see her mind for yourself. I know it does not come easily to you, and I do not demand this. But as this circumstance is not going anywhere, you may find it more helpful than not."

Thanadir nodded slowly. He had been given much to digest.

"Perhaps we could end the day on something more lighthearted," Thranduil offered.

"I liked Sean the Sheep," Thanadir said with a note of hopefulness in his voice.

Thranduil grinned. "Truthfully, so did I...but please let us keep that within our family. I am still attempting to maintain some kind of image as a pillar of Elvenkind and I believe it would not help my standing in the village, were it known."

"Your wish is still law to me," came the soft answer...with a slight smirk.

Thranduil nodded as he fiddled with the remote control, and adjusted the volume down; their hearing was much sharper and he did not wish to wake his wife. Before pressing "play" he looked over at his friend. "Though I have not thanked you often enough, I am thanking you now. I could never have managed any of this without you, Thanadir. I consider myself deeply fortunate to have walked almost all my days with the blessings of your support." He could not keep all of the emotion out of his voice, as he spoke.

With a deep bow of his head and an appreciative smile to his King, the ancient elf looked up in time to see a claymation rooster crow.

When Earlene's eyes blinked open, it was still absolutely dark. The nearby warmth informed her senses that Thranduil slept beside her; several minutes of carefully listening to his breathing confirmed that he was not awake. Whereas, she very much was. Squeezing her eyes shut, waves of dismay washed over her, because while she felt rested nothing about her inner sense of unease had diminished from having slept. Rising, she silently took care of necessities, feeling now fully justified in having invested in a noiseless toilet (something she had questioned as a single person, but the contractor had insisted it was the greatest thing since sliced bread so she'd agreed). Another compulsion led her to open her small jewelry box. Whenever she felt awful and could not understand why, she would find her father's wedding ring, which she could keep from falling off her thumb if she was careful. He'd always had a way of finding perspective, and this was her last tangible connection to him. Slipping it on, she tightened her hand into a fist to help secure it. This time there would be no workout clothes; she fully intended to lose her bad mood in the woods, and in the event she found herself in another of Thranduil's enchanted directional vortices, she was going to be dressed to be out in the cold and damp. She would not move so fast or strenuously as to cause herself to become a sweaty mess, but chose layers that could be unzipped or unbuttoned if need be. Her waterproof hiking boots were put on carefully, and at the last she placed Thanadir's cloak on her shoulders; every time she wore this wonderful wrap the more she liked it. Silently, she stepped out of the room, walking only on her toes, and made for the refrigerator for the only thing that sounded vaguely edible right now-a glass of milk. It was still force of habit to store dairy products chilled, in spite of the strange powers inside of the Realm. Pouring a mug full, it was swallowed inside of two breaths; milk was another of her specious "food groups." Placing the empty mug in the sink, she gave herself a moment to adjust to the bolus of cold liquid she'd just ingested; drinking it so quickly had left her narrowly avoiding brain freeze.

Yet that was a secondary concern; the compulsion to be on the move felt overwhelming. _They say you can't outrun your own shadow, but she wasn't so sure; it couldn't follow when there was no light._ A few seconds later, after pocketing a small but powerful flashlight in the event she found herself in a mess, she all but flew to and out of the door, pausing only to close it silently behind her. With a sigh that carried a measure of anguish, she wrapped the cloak around her as she trotted into the silent trees, doing everything she could to minimize the sound of her footfalls. Today she ran "properly", with her heels never touching the ground, swinging her hips to extend her stride. It was a slower but less energy consuming technique that she used sometimes...because. Fortunately, moonlight and starlight lingered under a clear sky, meaning that she had enough light to make out larger landforms, as well as a general route. _What did it matter? I'll be lost anyway. And I don't care._ That her husband could locate her easily was a given, so it wasn't like getting lost was a permanent concern, especially with proper clothing.

Unknown to Earlene, her movements in the kitchen had not gone unobserved. The elves had watched Sean the Sheep videos until nearly midnight; it hardly mattered, when they could both forego sleep for days at need. Thranduil had insisted that Thanadir stay and sleep on the sofa unless he adamantly wished otherwise; it was very comfortable, and pillows and blankets were always strewn around it anyway. The seneschal did not move as he watched the Queen, not wishing to startle her; it was far too dark in the cottage for mortal eyes to have noticed his presence. But when she passed by him and he noted her garments as well as her haste...something was amiss. It took him only a moment to sit up and pull his boots on. Pulling his own cloak from the back of a chair, he was speedily in pursuit, tracking her at a respectful distance. Though, not too great of a distance; her relative silence, for a mortal, very much impressed him.

Earlene did not know for what duration she ran, but it was quite awhile. At this pace, she likely could run for hours, though that was not her intention. There was light filtering into the sky, and it was now quite easy to see. She had encountered a slow incline; this was not something she recalled seeing before, and felt curious to investigate. So much of the woods had appeared relatively flat that any changes in elevation were a matter for curiosity. Arriving some minutes later at what passed for the crest, she looked to see that she was on the edge of a depression of sorts; it reminded her a bit of a volcanic crater though not remotely so dramatic in approximating a conical shape or the usual size. Frowning, she wondered what could have formed it; there was no evidence of volcanic activity anywhere in this country, as far as she knew. But amidst her ruminations, she saw something that amazed her, and rushed off again down the slope. It was quite possibly the largest oak tree she had ever seen in her life, and it stood alone down in the bottom of this...whatever it was. Geological construct.

A sense of reverence slowed her down as she approached; it was too beautiful for words. And while she did not go in for religious sentiments, this place felt sacred. Some branches were so old and heavy that they grew along the ground, twisting in hoary magnificence, for that was the color that some of the clinging mosses imparted to the thick limb nearest to her. Filled with uncertainty, she reached out to touch it, not knowing if she should. Her self-restraint was no match for the desire to come into contact with it; a wish to climb into its living arms jolted through her and would not be denied. _Surely if there was something deeply important about this place, Thranduil would have warned me or told me, as he did with the enchanted streams?_ It was impossible to resist, and her light steps led her high into the canopy, where she saw a branch from which it would difficult to fall; a perfect place to sit. Or so she hoped. The fabric of her cloak was a marvel; somehow it slid over the rough bark, refusing to catch or snag.

Settling herself and folding the warm fabric around her, she immediately felt more peaceful than she had since leaving for Baile yesterday. A large branch forked upwards next to her and she held onto it, leaning against the tree. _Gee, all those years I was accused of being a tree-hugger, and it's finally true,_ she mused. _I am probably being delusional but this tree feels so special...and given that the elves have guarded these woods basically forever, who was the last human to touch this tree? Has any human ever touched this tree?_ The notion that she might be the first to do so filled her with awe and a sense of privilege. But it did not take long for her thoughts to turn back to her encumbered feelings. _So what the hell is the problem, Earlene? You've been in the dumpster since five minutes after you arrived at Mairead's and got to watch Lorna's family circus. For which, by the way, you were completely prepared and warned._

 _Or was I? Everything was fine until...it was fine. When they were just arguing, it was embarrassing but seemed completely normal. But then they actually straightened it out and hugged each other and that's when you went to hell. So you do know what's wrong after all….because you're still running away from the fact that that will never happen for you._ Memories of her brother flooded into her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to force them away. _Asshole_ , she thought. _Just…..asshole._

 _But it runs deeper than that, doesn't it? Why did you really come here, Earlene? Why did you come to Ireland?_ To that, she had no clear answer except the ones she'd always told herself, at least, until she remembered what else she'd thought yesterday. _Who even am I?_ And the same thing came to mind that often did when that question came up….but this time she was alone. Without ever opening her eyes, she started to sing one of her favorite songs from Hedwig. Hedwig and the Angry Inch. No one knew, how many times she'd gone to see the musical, or that she found the plaintive and odd story of a genderqueer singer who struggled to understand both love and him/herself compelling beyond words. At first her voice was very quiet, but did not take long to reach a fairly impassioned rendition. And once again unbeknownst to her, the elf who had followed her here followed some more, and silently alighted very near to her, and listened in wonder. He did not understand all the words, but he knew anguish when he heard it. It was also very apparently time to do as his King had suggested. Swallowing hard, he marshaled all his concentration on the wall of her thoughts, until he found a way inside. It was so very difficult to enter, but once there, it would be much easier to stay until he broke the connection.

 _You know the sun is in your eyes, and hurricanes and rain, and black and cloudy skies._ _You're running up and down that hill, you turn it on and off at will. There's nothing here to thrill or bring you down. And if you've got no other choice you know you can follow my voice through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town._

 _Oh Lady, luck has led you here. And they're so twisted up, they'll twist you round I fear. The pious, hateful and devout; you're turning tricks till you're turned out, the wind so cold it burns; you're burning out, blowing 'round. And if you've got no other choice you know you can follow my voice through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town._

 _The fates are vicious, and they're cruel. You learn too late you've used two wishes, like a fool. And then you're someone you are not, and New York City ain't the spot; remember Mrs. Lot and when she turned around._ _And if you've got no other choice you know you can follow my voice through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town. It's a wicked little town._

It summed up so much about her life, to date. A tear rolled down her cheek though her eyes remained closed, and after her song ended, Thanadir could stand it no longer. "Earlene", he whispered, reaching to touch her arm.

Her eyes flew open wide, as she turned to see the seneschal only a foot away. That he followed her was obvious, how was not obvious at all. But what did it matter? Here he was, and she felt awful. "I am so sorry, Your Excellency. I did not know that I would take up your time by coming here, it was not my intention to disturb you." She blinked at him, wiping her face quickly with her sleeve.

Thanadir looked on in dismay; the King had been completely in earnest about her feelings toward him. The genuine affection she felt for him was fully overshadowed by a reverence and respect that far exceeded what he asked from anyone. He now saw that she would kneel to him; the only thing that prevented her was the knowledge that on her marriage to Thranduil, he would not tolerate it and that it would offend him were she to do so. This would not do, at all. That she was feeling such obvious pain and sitting there only concerned for his sensibilities; this was not what he wanted.

"Never mind about that," he said softly. "I can see that you are struggling, Earlene. Please, come here." He held his arms open to her. His kindness was not what she expected, and it took all her will to not dissolve into tears. But she could not keep her chin from quivering. In her eyes, anything he asked of her was as good as a command from Thranduil, and she moved to comply when in fact she'd rather have fallen down a deep hole for how embarrassed she was at this moment. He made her task easier by moving closer to her, before folding her in his arms. "It is time that I told you some things, Earlene. My King suggested that I make the effort to understand more about you, and so for the first time I am seeing you as he does."

She sincerely wondered what minor deity she had managed to offend today. _Could this get any worse?_ "Then I am sorry you had to bother, Thanadir. I am sorry you have had to bother with anything about me. I never meant to crash into your life and turn it upside down. I…"

His hand, so full of warmth, came up to cup her cheek. _Earlene, stop. You have not ruined my life, nor rearranged it in a manner that I find to be intolerable. I will acknowledge that it has been a challenge, for me to adapt to the many new experiences that your arrival has brought._ Her head hung down, and he lifted her chin carefully, forcing her to look at him. "I consider you to be more than the wife of my King, Earlene. You have shown me only courtesy and kindness since we first met. I like you, very much, and I cannot bear to have you thinking that I only tolerate you because my King commands it. I am here to care for you just as I do him; I do this gladly. I am happy you have come to us, Earlene. You have filled my King's heart with joy, and given him many gifts that I cannot. You have been near elves long enough to know that we do not lie. Though I could see, that after what my King confessed of his actions toward you last night, how you might be slightly unclear on that point," he smirked, releasing her chin.

Hearing his words and being forced to look into the depths of his eyes that were stern yet compassionate affected her deeply. _Then, thank you. For your kindness, for your teaching, for how much you have given to my husband. For everything. I will admit that this is the first time I have heard what you think and feel from...you. I would not have dared to ask, I respect you too much._

She looked away from him even as she felt herself held more tightly; and with this gesture of kindness Thanadir won out through the last of her resistance. Returning his embrace, she rested her head against him. It did not help her present internal state, but was comforting.

 _Can you tell me what is wrong, Earlene? Is that what your song was about? I did not know you could sing._

 _I cannot sing_ , she said, not considering that she had a voice to which anyone would wish to listen.

 _I will be the judge of that, but as your vocal talent is not the important part of my question, we can set that aside for the moment. What is wrong, Earlene?_ This time the question had more emphasis.

 _It is not easy to answer, Thanadir, because I still do not know myself. But I will try. Please be patient with me. Am I right in guessing that Thranduil spent time last night telling you about me?_

 _That is correct._

 _Well, my visit with Lorna's sister reminded me of my own family. There were many arguments like that. I have an older brother, who has said many unkind things to me over the years. When I heard Mairead belittling Lorna, it reminded me a great deal of what I lived with. But when I saw that the two of them learned why they each felt as they did, and they showed affection to each other...it hurt, to see that. Because it has never happened between my brother and I, and it never will happen. I should not let this bother me now, so far away and so many years later, but I cannot always help it. And there is more. That song is about someone struggling to understand who they are, what their place in the world is. I thought I understood why I chose to come and live here, but now I am wondering if I was not deceiving myself. And, if your life has not gone upside down on account of my arrival...mine has. I moved here to be alone. No one had ever claimed my heart. I don't know if you can understand what it was for me to have never had a romantic relationship of any kind in my life and then in the space of what, two weeks, find out that I am wed? To an Elvenking? And now, I don't know what my life has become or what my life was in the first place. What any of this sounds like to one who has lived as long as you, I have no idea. I would not be offended if my troubles seem petty or ridiculous to you; I am certain that others have far greater problems. But, you asked._

Thanadir rested his chin lightly on Earlene's head. _I did ask. And I can see there is something else you should know. Though we have lived long, our emotions are no loftier or more difficult to understand than your own. We have been tempered by our long span of years, but I assure you our ability to understand the things of which you speak is fully intact. My King told me that you know of Oropher, and what he did?_

 _Yes._

 _Then I do not feel as if I am betraying confidences by telling you that it took my King thousands of years to largely break free of the damage done to him by his family._

 _You are not entirely making me feel hopeful, Thanadir, as I do not have thousands of years in which to solve my current problem._ Earlene leaned back away from him to meet his eyes, a smile now on her face. It was her attempt at humor, which he met in kind. _I am sorry, perhaps I should not be joking; what happened to Thranduil is not a laughing matter. Humans often use humor when they are uncertain what to say. Forgive me, if I have caused offense._

Thanadir marveled at her. _You did not; there is nothing to forgive. Is it...usual, for humans to be so concerned for the feelings of others? Please excuse the question, but you are the first mortal with whom I have communicated in this manner. There is much I do not know._

Earlene frowned. _We do not have your gifts, and so I cannot say with any certainty what others think and feel. But humans usually demonstrate their inner selves by their outward actions; by this, I would say that many are concerned. I am concerned because my friends matter to me a great deal. I think you now know that I lost all my friends, and why. You, my King, and Lorna are all I have in this world. So it matters a great deal to me, that I do not give offense._

 _Firieth vilui (dear mortal woman), it would take a great deal more than that to offend me._

 _I will try hard not to discover your limits, Your Excellency. But I wondered if I could ask you a personal question; if you do not wish to discuss this, you have only to tell me. What occurred in the pub yesterday, when Lorna's niece approached you...did you understand what was happening?_

 _No, I did not. One moment I was speaking to her, and then next moment Lorna was saying things about me, many things, all of which were untrue. I was becoming angry, but just as quickly you asked to be taken outside. And as something was obviously causing you to feel unhappy, I was soon distracted._

 _With respect, would you like me to explain it to you?_

She felt him nod, and took a deep breath, hoping to choose her words well.

 _The first thing you must understand is that to human eyes, you appear to be perhaps twenty-five to thirty years of age. You are also someone that many women will find to be very attractive. Please forgive me, Your Excellency, but you are beautiful, very fair in appearance. I am unable to have romantic feelings toward you from having been bound to my husband, but I am not blind. Were I free, I would find you attractive myself. Lorna's niece was approaching you in the hopes that you were available for a relationship_. Earlene paused for a moment, having felt his body stiffen somewhat against her. _Is it...accurate, for me to guess that you have no interest in such an attachment with another?_

Thanadir sighed. _It is accurate. And while I mean no disrespect to you, it would above all not be my desire to join with a mortal. Long ago I made the decision to forego a wife of my own, when I knelt before my King to pledge my service to him. I have not regretted my choice. But...I did not realize. Are you telling me that I can expect a similar occurrence, anytime I am among humans?_

I _am afraid so. I certainly understand why you would not wish to wed a human, and your decision to serve our King makes perfect sense to me. For all of my mortal limitations, it took so little time to decide to speak my vows to Thranduil. I love our King, Thanadir, far more than I love myself. I understand how easy it is to pledge everything to him._

The seneschal saw that this was not an exaggeration; she could not hide her true feelings from him. And he already knew just how much she had given; never had a mortal made these vows to his King prior to her. There was more he wished to understand, but this would need to wait until later. She returned to the topic at hand, and he did not interrupt.

 _You have the particular misfortune of having facial features that are associated with innocence and….forgive me, emotional frailty. There are times when the sight of you affects even me. I have been saved by the fact that I know far more about you, and do not make the mistake of being deceived by your appearance. However, there may be a simple solution to this difficulty, if you are willing to hear it. I will confess to you openly that it involves mild deception._

 _I am listening, Earlene_. His eyes twinkled with amusement at this new information, that could not be more absurdly at odds with his actual personality.

 _Well, I will rarely be bothered by the same problem, nor will Thranduil, because we wear wedding rings. Not as I have read elves do, but on these other fingers. That is an outward sign to others that we are not available, and is respected by the vast majority of people. Though you are not wed, if you wore a ring others would assume you were, and you would deflect almost all unwanted attention. It would only be a lie if you were asked directly whether you have a wife and said "yes." Would you feel as though doing so was….seemly?_ Though she did not know it in Sindarin, Thranduil had indicated that it was one of his favorite words.

The rumbling laugh she felt answered before he did. _Yes, I would be content with such a solution. But, your words seem to indicate that some humans will yet make an attempt?_

 _Yes. Not to be indelicate, but some humans have no particular regard for marriage; you should realize that many have intimate relations with many partners regardless of being wed. And honestly, I cannot place myself above them; I welcomed Thranduil without any thought of marriage. Many humans have strong physical desires and are only seeking to satisfy those; they are not seeking matrimony. Please understand, that Lorna does not know know that elves do not lie. I am certain that no one told her. Humans often do lie. She was trying to protect you from what her niece was doing; though I am sorry to say it was a very bad attempt. It is part of why I intervened; I judged that in addition to my own feelings, it was the only way to end a deteriorating situation; it did not bother me to deflect the attention away from you._

 _I should also warn you...among us, attraction can take a number of forms. It is possible that you may be approached by males as well as females. It is complicated, to explain to one without a human frame of reference. But if you like, I can teach you what to say so as to make your position politely clear with no possibility of confusion. Would you give me your hand, Thanadir?_

Puzzled, the elf held his left hand in front of her. Looking at his fingers, she wondered if her father's ring would fit him. It would make her happy, somehow, to know that while her da was gone, some part of him would travel along with one who would always care for her. She worked it off of her thumb and showed it to him. _May I place this on your hand, to see if it will fit?_

 _Yes. But where is that from? I have not seen you wearing it before just now._

 _It belonged to my father, who died. He was a wonderful man, and I know that he would appreciate very much the care you have taken of his daughter._ It slid easily onto his long fingers, and fit perfectly. _Well, that is convenient. It is yours to wear if you wish, Thanadir. I would be honored. I only ask that if for some reason you no longer desire to use it, please do not melt it down into a...I don't know what. It is the only reminder of him left to me._ Caught by an unexpected stab of grief, her eyes welled up with tears that she hurriedly tried to wipe away.

Sincerely touched, the old elf was at a loss for words until he felt her pain and her attempts to force it away. _There is no shame in tears, Earlene. You have nothing to prove, not to me. You would do better to release your emotions._

 _You would not think me weak?_ The force of the question, and the challenge behind it surprised him.

 _No, I would not. It takes more strength to show vulnerability._

 _Do all elves think as you do, Your Excellency? Because few humans share your belief_. With that she burst into tears, pouring out everything she'd bottled up since yesterday.

His arms enfolded her once more. _The wise ones do, Earlene._

As she quieted, the response finally came. _I have neither the will or the strength to argue. Thank you, for your compassion. I am sad to say that it is not something one is guaranteed to find in all humans. Please know how much I appreciate you, and all your people. I wish I had always known the elves. Though I believe I am going to have to face up to some things I thought I had left behind, I have felt at peace living with all of you._

 _What do you mean by that, Earlene? Face up...how?_

She looked away from him. _'Face up' is an idiom that means, 'confront.' When I came here, I did not expect to ever return to New York. Now I am not so sure. I cannot explain, but for my long-term peace of mind, I feel as though I am going to have to go back, even if only for a short visit. Though, I am no longer free to decide such things. I belong to my King now, and I would not be forsworn. Sooner or later, I will have to speak to him. That is, unless he is already awake and therefore hearing all of this anyway. Have you ever felt that you must do something, even though the reasons are not fully clear to you? That is what I am feeling now. Maybe I am wrong, and this sense will pass. Time will tell._

At just that moment, her stomach growled audibly.

"I think it is time we broke our fast," he said with amusement.

"Then we'd best leave, because we are probably an hour from breakfast," she quipped. When she saw that his face registered only more mirth, her eyes narrowed. "Then again, you like as not know where you are, whereas I am lost, like usual. Surely this place is known to you, and special. This tree is like no other I have ever seen."

"It is not your fault, that you fall to the King's enchantments. Your run took you in a wide spiral. You are very near the Halls. Our King says I am to take you there, and that he will meet us shortly. And yes, this tree is special, beloved by all the elves. Your heart is much like ours, Earlene. I see in you a great love of the woods and growing things."

Nodding, she smiled, releasing her hold on him, and accepting his hand to help her up; he had already sprung lightly to his feet. He noted that she climbed down easily, and seemed very steady while walking on the branches. Still, he followed her closely, unwilling to leave her safety to chance. "You do not have to fuss so much, but thank you," she said.

"It is easier to fuss than to explain to my King how I let you fall," he fired back.

"I suppose. It is odd, though, for me. It is unusual to go from running alone at night in Central Park to having an ancient ellon watch over me like a guardian angel."

"Does my guarding of you bother you? For indeed that word is not far from the truth."

She reflected for some moments before answering him. "If you had asked me if this would bother me weeks ago, I would have rather vehemently answered that Yes, it would bother me. But now...she sighed. "I am used to being independent, Thanadir. Alone. Self-sufficient. And in a very short space of time it has all changed. Because it is you who guards me, I find that I do not mind; I might feel very different about another, though. I still believe that I am capable enough, but to my great surprise, I have accepted you in this role. I feel safe with you, Thanadir, though I know there are many dangers in the outer world against which you could not defend me. Maybe I am tired of always having had to be strong on my own. There are many women who would tell me I ought to be bothered; I cringe to think what Lorna's opinions on this are. But she and I are not the same and either way it doesn't really matter. So, that was all a very convoluted way to say, "No, it does not bother me."

It had taken Lorna four days to work up the guts to go to Earlene's - four days in which Mick wondered what the hell was going on with her. She had to edit the truth, but truth she told: that she'd met someone she could actually be interested in, and she had some things she needed to work through before she could even think of taking it anywhere. For all Mick could be awkward, he was a good sort, and spent that first evening sitting on the roof and drinking with her. While he might be even more shite at using his words than she was, he was a grand listener.

What finally drove her out toward the woods wasn't entirely her own conviction: the second day she headed back to Baile, because Mairead had baked a cake in apology for dragging Earlene and Company into their family shite. She carried it with her now, done up in a cardboard carton; for all Mairead could be overbearing and aggravating, she was still Lorna's sister, and Lorna knew that all her nosiness was ultimately out of love - it was just occasionally horrendously misguided. They'd had a good long talk about that, and about why she needed to quit feeling guilty she'd never found Lorna or their other siblings. She'd also got some more information from Naimh - mainly, a doctor who wouldn't ask too many questions before signing them off for their official identification. As soon as Lorna had thrown a thousand Euros her way just for what little she'd had to do so far, she became even more accommodating, outright offering services Lorna hadn't asked for yet.

The day was warm and sunny, spring now in full swing, and she let the sun soothe her as much as it actually could. Still, when she reached the edge of the forest, she hesitated. Once she crossed it, he'd know how nervous - hell, how borderline terrified - she was.

She thought of Ratiri - of how she wanted to see if she could actually build something with him. It was the first time in eleven years she'd actually wanted to, and she couldn't let the chance pass her by because she was too afraid to face her own past. So she stepped into the trees, and nervous though she was, she still felt a bit of an idiot for calling out mentally. _I'm, uh, here,_ she said. _If you've got a moment. If not, I can come back later_. The fact that the elves didn't have mobile phones was a distinct disadvantage, at least if they were busy and didn't need visitors.

 _Earlene will be with you in in a moment, Lorna. Go inside the cottage, and make yourself at home. She is at her barn, and will bring you here._

Lorna had to consciously remind herself that she didn't need to worry about Thranduil's mental well-being, but to an extent, she just couldn't help it. She was a caretaker by nature, and she was about to drop something horrible into the mind of a friend. Not being a little concerned by that would just make her an asshole, so hopefully he'd forgive her for it.

Doing as she was asked, she went around to the back, and when she didn't catch sight of Earlene or hear obvious noises from the barn, she went into the cottage. Tail had obviously been given a ball of yarn, because the little orange fluffball was furiously occupying itself in the destruction of said yarn, rolling around the floor in ferocious abandon. It was riveting Cute Overload, and Lorna found herself standing there, barely having the presence of mind to offload Mairead's cake onto the table, as the antics mesmerized her. For all that it was totally stupid, it took her mind off of some of her nervousness. She knelt, tickling the kitten and earning herself a few tiny kitten-bites. Mairead had always had cats - she had a big, fluffy bastard that her eldest son had actually shaved one hot summer, believing he had to be too hot with all that fuzz. Mairead had about hit the ceiling - not so much because of the shaving itself, but because Kevin could easily have hurt either himself or the cat. (Though the fact that he chose to do it in the lounge, and got fuzz everywhere, didn't really help.)

She hoped Earlene had recovered from her Mairead Experience, and that Thanadir realized she'd meant well, in her disastrous attempts to save him from Niamh. Unless it involved punching someone, she never had been good at thinking on her feet; even among all her faults, she was a generally honest person, which wasn't always a good thing.

Earlene concluded her seed organizing over which she'd been dawdling, on hearing the instructions from her husband. Yesterday's mail had brought the packets; the kind with beautiful color photographs on the outside, and she could not resist arranging all of them by type on the shop bench...alliums in one row, cruciferous vegetables in another, cut and come-again greens...on and on. It made her feel happy, and gave a sense of anticipation; Thanadir had promised her that she would be able to do some of the actual seed planting. It was one of her favorite activities, and she could not fathom the idea that "her" garden would not only be constructed but planted without her being a part of it. Being mostly done fondling the packets is why she was able to abandon the project with only a minimum of resentment. It wasn't Lorna's fault, it was just that days after her long talk with Thanadir, something was still simmering inside of her. They'd spent the night at the cottage yesterday, and she had begged to be able to have some time alone, and "unguarded." She was fully aware that Thanadir would have shared all that she told him with the King; it was expected. Thranduil had continued to be kind and supportive, but did not pry. Nor had he tried to corner her into having a conversation about her own family. When the expected pressure had not come it was a surprise and a relief, and did a great deal to increase her already considerable trust in him. But there was still nothing further to say because in what time she'd allowed herself to mull it over, no great insight had been forthcoming.

Returning to the house, she greeted her friend and offered tea...here or at the Halls, it was her choice. Between the kitten and the cake, they both had a good laugh over the state of their lives, which is when Earlene suggested that they bring the cake with them, if it wasn't too much trouble. Offered the choice between carrying the kitten or the cake, Lorna chose the kitten and the two of them set off.

"They're going to plant the garden tomorrow, and I was hanging out here to organize the seeds", Earlene said by way of making conversation. "Not sure if you've gotten an eyeful of the garden they've been setting up over there." Her head nodded the general direction in which to look. "Thranduil wouldn't let me build it myself because he said that the human gardens he'd seen were ugly eyesores. The problem is, he was right, and I'd never have gotten anything to look like that. I wouldn't have known how."

Lorna caught sight of the distant enclosure, surrounded by an elegant fenced border that was somehow all made of curves. If a right angle was anywhere in there, she didn't see it. It was pretty like everything elves touched was pretty, and while she wasn't exactly acquainted with the plans for it or what the point of it was, she had to concede it looked lovely. Nevertheless, it was a good thing Gran wasn't around to hear Thranduil say that; she'd have done her level best to thump him. How had they done this? Hell, how did they manage half the things they'd managed, when they entirely lacked technology? The answer was still probably 'magic', at least partly, and even yet part of her had an issue with that word. It was utterly stupid of her; God knew she'd seen enough evidence of it, so it shouldn't seem odd to her anymore. Sooner or later it would cease to be, she was sure.

About a half hour of not walking terribly fast later, they meandered to the Gates of the Hall. "I'm guessing he has let you see them, and that you aren't just looking at a hillside?" Earlene asked, nodding up at the massive columns before them.

Lorna nodded, smiling, wondering if Earlene minded that she could. And without her asking, the unspoken question was answered.

"I'm glad. It would have been even weirder, to be the only human allowed to see this. It really is so beautiful, and I still often can't believe I can come here." Turning to the gates themselves, she whispered "Edro, ennyn Thranduil."

Hearing the words that sounded like a mumble strung together, Lorna was reminded that they'd gotten exactly nowhere on her interest in learning Sindarin, and mentioned it to Earlene, who immediately had a look of remorse cross her face - which in turn made Lorna wince. Earlene had so much on her plate already that she didn't need to be feeling bad over that. "Jesus, I'd completely forgotten. I am so sorry...can we agree that before you leave the area this time, I at least set you up with the books and websites you need back at my cottage? But...maybe there is something small I can give you now. Their words for 'hello' literally mean "well met'. You say 'Mae g'ovannen'."

Lorna repeated the words, trying not to slaughter them with her accent and failing miserably. Her natural accent was so heavy that she probably wasn't ever going to pronounce any of it right - Tatiana had been forever harassing her over her inability to pronounce Russian - but she could try. Hopefully she'd be comprehensible, at least. (Then again, she could be hard to understand in English; that Earlene and the elves seemed to manage it so easily for non-Irish people had to at least partly be down to luck. Though Thranduil couldn't help but cheat, in a sense.) She wondered a bit if Thanadir always understood her as well as he appeared to, given that English was his second language.

Earlene paused inside the gates as they swung shut behind the two of them, waiting for her eyes to adjust. "I wish I had the instantly accommodating elven eyesight," she quipped. "I'm always vaguely terrified I'll forget one of these days and go sailing off a walkway. I usually need a full minute, and then I'm good. You let me know, when you are good to go." They both needed about the same amount of time. Earlene pointed out to Lorna, in case Thranduil hadn't, that she needed the third walkway from the left to reach the throne. Because she was leading, she did not notice Lorna's nervous glances toward the depths of the cavern nor her careful tracking down the exact center of the arching walkway. She did, however, manage to notice her husband seated on his throne, crowned, speaking to a group of elves with Thanadir nearby busily taking notes. Usually she would curtsy as she approached the area, but with a cake in her arms, Lorna, and a kitten, she was certain she would make far less of a spectacle by lingering back away from them while the discussion concluded. Listening very carefully, she realized it had something to do with watches, schedules for guarding. She wondered idly just how much time and effort was put into warding off the one human that might try to come here every fifty years or so...but it was not her place to comment. When the group departed, Thranduil descended and approached them with a smile; Thanadir came near as well.

"i Aran nîn, Your Excellency," she said by way of greeting.

"Meluieg," Thranduil said, kissing her on the forehead, taking note that she was protecting whatever was in the box with her life. "Lorna, welcome," he said with a nod.

"Cake, from Mairead," Earlene explained, noting with amusement that Thanadir's expression immediately perked up.

"Then we shall have it later, with tea," Thranduil said, carefully taking it from her. "But right now, Earlene, I would like you to practice at swords with Thanadir. There is something I must discuss privately with Lorna."

As it was not instruction to look at more vocabulary, the command was met with relative enthusiasm. "Of course," she nodded, taking the seneschal's offered arm after bowing her head to him.

With mirth-filled eyes, he greeted Lorna. "I hope you will forgive me not offering you my arm, but I am under the distinct impression that should I drop this cake, nothing good will come of it."

In spite of her nerves, Lorna laughed a bit. _It never does to waste one of Mairead's cakes. Even Siobhan can't beat them - they're some recipe of Gran's that she'd passed on only to Mairead._ It hadn't been a slight against Lorna; Lorna simply couldn't have made proper use of it, and it could well have fallen into the wrong hands...somehow. Her own cooking was...serviceable. She wouldn't poison anyone with it, but most of it wasn't terribly enjoyable, either. She'd learned to cook too late in life; she hadn't even touched an oven until she was twenty-eight, and she'd got in more than one argument with Mairead's gas range before Mairead refused to let her touch it again. The fact that one of those arguments had come dangerously close to involving a hammer...well, Mairead had a valid reason.

Thranduil smiled at this, enjoying that even though he could perceive her uneasiness, she was still a fountain of humor. They walked on in silence back to his rooms, where he carefully placed the cake beyond all harm on the table, looking back and forth from the kitten to the cake and to the kitten again, hoping that the little creature could keep out of trouble. An eyebrow raised when Lorna deposited both kitten and a pocketed ball of yarn on the floor, first rolling the yarn away from them. Satisfied that the little hunter's instincts were occupied for the moment, he turned his full attention back to Lorna, inviting her to sit with him near the fire.

 _Are you certain you are ready for this, Lorna? I have no wish to force you or rush you._

 _I don't know that I'll ever be certain, she said. But if I don't do it now, I never will, and I've sat on this too long already._ She had to admit, being this vulnerable didn't sit well with her, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. Thranduil wouldn't judge her, or think her weak, or use that vulnerability against her - she was sure of that, even if she wasn't sure just how she was going to react to this. Whatever happened here, would stay here. Kind of like Vegas, only not nearly so much fun.

Looking carefully at her state of mind, Thranduil slowly and gently gathered her into his arms and drew her up onto his lap, certain that he did not want to know what 'Vegas' was. She was practically the size of a doll against him, but he caught glimmers of what was coming and, unless she struggled away from him, he would not allow her to disgorge this without showing some form of compassion. _I want to first address the concern for my well-being that I have seen in you, Lorna; it shows that you care. However, I strongly perceive that you will have far more difficulty of this than I will. Take your time, my friend. I will help you, as you tell me, if your pain in telling it becomes too great._ Lightly placing his arm over her shoulders, and sitting very still, he waited for her to begin in her own time.

Lorna shut her eyes, for once not utterly tensing at physical contact. Summoning this consciously was not easy - not after she'd spent so long repressing it. She was safe now, she reminded herself. She wasn't doing this alone; Thranduil had said he would help her, and he was becoming one of a very few people in her life she truly trusted with...well, her. With the shit that went on in her head. She drew a deep breath, letting her head rest on his shoulder, and pulled the memory from the depths of her mind. It had lurked there far too long.

 _They'd been criminally stupid that night, she and Liam, driving out into that sleet, but it hadn't been so bad when they set out, and he didn't want to turn around. Had he not been the one driving, he might still be alive; his reflexes never had been as good as hers._

 _The wind was so high that the van shuddered on the empty motorway, the sleet driven nearly horizontal. The van was warm, though, the heater blasting to keep the windscreen from fogging. This was before she knew anything about mechanics, so there was always a faint smell of exhaust, mingling with the harsh detergent they washed all their clothes with at the laundromat._

 _They were on their way to see his cousin - the only family he had left - while she clutched an ultrasound in her hand. They'd just found out the baby was a girl, and were bandying about baby names as they drove._

 _"Saoirse," Lorna said, staring at the blurry image. "After my mam."_

 _"Morbid, though, isn't it?" Liam asked. "Naming a kid after someone who's died." He probably wouldn't argue it for long, though; he never did, when she truly wanted something. Christ, how she loved him - dark-haired, grey-eyed, perpetually scruffy, to her he was the most beautiful man in the world._

 _"I don't see why," she said. "There's only so many names in the world. Sooner or later, everyone's named after somebody dead."_

 _He laughed. "Lorna, sometimes your logic -"_

 _He never got any further. To this day, she didn't know what they'd hit - an oil slick, an ice patch - but it didn't matter. The van spun with stomach-lurching suddenness, crashing into the metal barrier of what she realized too late was a bridge._

 _She was sure she screamed, though she no longer remembered it. What she did remember was the terror that spiked through her, squeezing her heart as the van plunged headlong into the icy, treacherous currents of the Shannon._

 _Pain blossomed through her chest as she hit the seat belt, but Liam, he so often forgot his, and she so often forgot to remind him, and somewhere in the dark there came a crack that would haunt her to her dying day - though at the moment, she had no idea what it signified. Instinct seized her, a bone-deep fear of drowning spurring her to action where her conscious mind shut down; she clawed off her belt, seized Liam by the arm, and somehow, through some feat of strength she didn't think she'd ever duplicate, she hauled him up to the back of the van and kicked the doors open._

 _Pain exploded through her left leg, but she didn't yet know the significance of that, either. All she could think of, insofar as she could think anything, was that Liam couldn't swim - that she had to get him to the surface or he wasn't getting there at all. The icy water stole what little breath she had, forcing them both back into the van, but she kicked and strained and swum as best she could, the current dragging at them both - ever after she suspected it was pure luck that brought the pair of them to the bank._

 _The sleet struck her face like frigid stones, the bank a combination of ice and mud that was nearly impossible to haul herself onto. Liam's inert weight wasn't helping - was he unconscious? Was he dead? Oh Christ, don't let him dead, she couldn't bear it, she couldn't._

 _Sobbing for breath, lungs burning, she eventually managed to get Liam up with her, onto what little flat ground lay beneath the stony bank under the bridge. It was steep, but they had to get up there - nobody was going to help if they didn't know there was anyone who needed help._

 _"Liam, allanah," she said, shaking him lightly. His pulse still thrummed beneath her fingertips, but his skin was so cold. They needed to move, or they'd freeze. "Liam, for Christ's sake, I can't haul your arse up the bank." Even she realized how hysterical she sounded, her voice unsteady from shivering. She was so cold it hurt, her entire body shuddering in bone-rattling waves._

 _She nearly fainted from relief when his eyes opened, dazed and blurry though they were. He started coughing immediately - deep, wet, hacking coughs, and she rolled him onto his side, thumping him on the back to bring up whatever water he'd inhaled. He was alive, he was alive, and though she was frozen, though it felt like she'd been dragged through a field of gorse bushes stark naked, they'd survived that._

 _"Lorna?" he managed, after what seemed like forever, once he'd finally hacked up all the water. "What happened?"_

 _"You drive like an eejit," she said, scarcely aware of what left her mouth. "Come on - we can't stay. We've got to get up to the road." She wasn't actually sure what good that would do, given that they'd not seen another car in the last half hour, but surely someone would come. They had to._

 _"I -" Liam started, but lapsed into horrified silence. "Lorna, I can't - I don't think I can move."_

 _Dread dropped into her stomach like a ball of lead, and she clawed her sodden hair out of her eyes before taking his hand, squeezing it hard. "Allanah, for Christ's sake tell me you feel that," she said, her fingers closing over his - so much larger, his hands were; it took both of hers to cover one._

 _"I -"_

 _Her memory went blurry there, mercifully, though not for long - clarity returned when she tried to stand, to climb up the embankment. It was tall and steep, but she could manage it - or would have been able to, had not pain jagged white-hot through her left leg, just before it collapsed beneath her._

 _"Jesus fucking Christ!" she cried, the last word muffled as she hit the ground and all the breath drove from her. No. No, she wasn't going to fucking deal with this - she'd get up that goddamn bank if it fucking killed her. Walking wasn't an option, but she could still drag herself, and drag she did, her grip slipping each time it landed in the half-frozen mud. Oh God she hurt, but it was so cold that everything was going numb, her fingers left with all the dexterity of sausages. The wet mass of her hair tangled itself on every goddamn bit of shrub it could tangle on, weighing her down, but she was nothing if not stubborn. It wouldn't stop her, her leg wouldn't stop her; nothing short of bloody fucking Armageddon was -_

 _Her grip slipped, and down she went, clawing at whatever scrub and weeds she could, but they too were coated with ice, and what she didn't lose hold of tore right from the ground. She landed near Liam, at least - Liam, who looked utterly terrified, and who she had no idea how to comfort._

 _"Fuck it_ , _" she said, trying to force away her own fear. "Someone'll come, allanah. Sure they've got to see that hole we made. They'll get you to hospital." She couldn't promise anything could be done, not when she didn't know just what was wrong, just what had broken, but Lorna had never left him, and she never, ever would._

 _She hauled herself over to him, sliding through the mud, pressing herself very carefully against his side. She had to keep him warm - they both had to keep warm, somehow, if they were to survive this wretched weather, but they could do that._

 _"It'll be all right, allanah," she said, brushing his soaking hair back from his forehead. Pellets of ice had stuck in it already, and she shook them free. "I'm with you, Liam, I'm always with you. No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere."_

 _Still there was fear in his eyes, and she babbled until her throat was raw, carding her fingers through his ice-stiff hair over and over. "We'll get to hospital where it's warm and safe. I love you, allanah, Christ do I love you." He was so pale, his lips bloodless blue. She tried to rub some color into his face, but her hands were so cold she could scarcely feel them. She scarcely even registered the sleet on her own face anymore, but he had to stay warm. Yeah, she was tiny, but she was a living heater, and she'd keep him warm, wouldn't she?_

 _She was slowly growing warm herself, now, warm and sleepy, but she knew what that meant - she had to stay awake. She had to stay awake, but she was so fucking tired. Liam, his eyelids were drooping too, and Lorna kissed his cheek, rubbing her hand from his temple to his jaw and back again. "Stay awake," she said, her voice little more than a hoarse rasp now. "Stay awake, allanah, stay with me. Stay with me." She pressed her fingers to his pulse, barely able to feel it with how numb they were. His eyes were unfocused now, vacant, though he still blinked against the sleet._

 _"Stay with me," she whispered, but she was going under herself - though not fast enough. She was still awake to feel his pulse still beneath her fingers, to see the blankness of death creep over his eyes. It was the last thing she saw, before darkness took her, too._

 _Why or how she woke later, Lorna never did know. The sirens were loud, sure, but she shouldn't have been able to wake. Her vision was blurred, the whirling red and blue lights on the bridge nothing more than vague shapes._

 _She blinked hard, rubbing her eyes, and the first thing they focused on was Liam - Liam, white-faced, lifeless, eyes glazed, staring at nothing._

 _A scream rose in her throat, but her voice was so abused that it produced little sound. She found herself shaking him, repeating his name, as though by doing so she could somehow make him answer from wherever his soul had gone._

 _"Liam - Liam -"_

 _She flinched when someone touched her, automatically flailing to hit them. Man, woman, she didn't know - they were saying something, but she couldn't make out any actual words. All she knew was that Liam was cold and still and there was nothing at all behind his grey eyes._

 _Someone reached for her again, very gently, but she clung to Liam's stiff hand and wouldn't let go - if she let go they'd take him, they'd take him from her, they'd take him and they'd never return him - he'd be - he'd be -_

 _Two pairs of hands, struggling to lay her onto some kind of board, insistent now, and she slammed her elbow back into someone's face, dragging Liam closer, gripping him as though all that mattered in the world depended on it._

 _"Fucking stop!" she snarled, when the hands touched her again. "Liam, get him, he needs you - get him on this thing, I'm fine, I'll be fine -"_

 _"Ma'am, you need to let us help you." It was a man, calm, why was he so calm? "Let us help you, and we'll help him."_

 _"You won't," she said, half-turning to glare at him with her blurry eyes. "You won't, you'll take him from me, you'll -"_

 _What happened from there was a mystery. Either they sedated her, or she lost consciousness again, but when she woke she was warm and clean and dry, in a room that smelled of disinfectant and electronics - hospital, she knew, even before she opened her eyes. There were needles in her arms, tubes where there shouldn't be tubes, and she was practically floating on a wave of morphine._

 _Liam._

 _Lorna's brain refused to cough up anything but that, but Liam's name. Her eyes refused to open yet - not until she heard someone move beside her bed._

 _Her vision remained fuzzy, but she made out a tall woman with incredibly red hair, as well as a smaller, older woman with piercing blue eyes. Both were looking at her with expressions she probably couldn't have interpreted even if she'd been able to properly see._

 _"Who are you?" she asked, her abused voice a rasp and nothing more._

 _The tall woman took her hand, and she automatically flinched. "I'm your sister, Lorna. This is your gran. The hospital - they called us."_

 _What? Why? How? Lorna had never spoken to either of them in her life - they didn't even share a second name. She'd find out - much later - that the hospital had been at its wits' end to find her next of kin, and run across these two through government records._

 _"Liam," she said, struggling to sit up; she didn't have an ounce of strength in her, and she collapsed back with a wince. "Where's Liam?"_

 _The little old lady - her gran, she had a gran - nudged the taller woman out of the way. She was as tiny as Lorna herself, her hair snow-white and face lined with sun as well as age. "Lorna, allanah, he's gone," she said, taking Lorna's hand - such tiny hands, just like hers. "We're taking you home with us."_

 _She'd known - she hadn't wanted to, she'd wanted to deny it until her denial could bring back the dead - but hearing it confirmed...he'd been so terrified, so cold and afraid and he'd died like that…._

 _Tears were not in her nature, and not by choice. Lorna often wished she could cry, but she'd only ever managed it twice - until now. They were strangely hot, hot and bitter, silent at first, stinging on cheeks worn raw by sleet._

 _"You just let it out now, allanah," Mairead said, gently rubbing her shoulder. "Get it all out."_

 _Let it out she did, sobbing so violently that, she found out later, one of the doctors wanted to sedate her. Mairead nearly lamped him out for it - Gran knew better, knew that she had to get this out now or she was never going to._

 _She hadn't known yet, that she'd lost the baby. That came later, and with it, grey depression that settled over her like a blanket. But Mairead was with her, and Gran, and somehow she survived. She survived, but this had haunted her nightmares ever since, poisoning her. She couldn't keep it, not now, not if she ever wanted to have anything with Ratiri - or anyone, for that matter. Ratiri was the first she'd wanted, and she couldn't let this keep dragging her down into those icy waters._ "In all my dreams I drown," she said, she thought, uncertain if she spoke aloud, of what Thranduil could hear.

His arms tightened around her, just a little, and he rested his throat lightly on top of her head in sympathy. If only he could count how many times he had comforted those who had lost someone to tragedy, but at least among their kind, they knew where they went. They knew what their hope and their fate was; he did not know what became of mortals. The Valar had never told them anything by which to comfort the Secondborn, for they did not know themselves. He needed to be absolutely clear as to what Lorna wished, because while he could modify or even erase her memories, it had to be done right the first time. _Lorna, I am so sorry, but I can promise you you will no longer be tormented by dreams about this. Now that I have seen, I need to explain. I can alter your future with regard to these painful memories in one of two ways. I can erase all memory of the accident from your mind, but you would have no recollection of how your mate died or how you were injured. The other choice is that I can allow you to remember, but have them be so muted that they no longer call to mind any emotions. This should cause your nightmares to stop as well. I must ask because I cannot "tinker"; it is one or the other. And while I can guess which you will want, I must hear it from you._ Without disturbing her, he reached one arm around to bring a nearby blanket; with a deft motion he draped it over her body before resuming his embrace. Though he would never tell her, the only difficult thing about this for him was to see her suffering. There had been far too much pain held in a body that to him was much like a child's.

What did she want? She was more aware of the world now, no longer trapped within her own memory. Her automatic response should have been 'erase it', but...could she live with that? Could she live with a hole in her memory, even one she'd asked for? She couldn't say 'yes' with any actual certainty. _Can you just...make it not hurt? Mute them, suppress them...whatever you have to do._ She was vaguely aware she was shivering, either from the chill of the Shannon or the horror of the entire memory. Her eyes burned, but her damned atrophied tear ducts refused to do their job. Her instinct was to curl into a ball, but that didn't work so well now. She was small enough as it was; there was no reason to try to disappear entirely - she was still safe. Thranduil had officially joined the very short list of people who could touch her without her tensing or flipping out, and he was warm - she needed that, after the frozen horror of that memory. Being willing to have the worst experience of her life dumped into his brain earned him a level of trust only two other people currently held. Mairead and Big Jamie had taken care of her without ulterior motive, because they cared about what happened to her, and now he had, too - three times, in fact. There had not, in Lorna's life, been a surfeit of people who had proven to actually give enough of a shit about her to help her without expectation of something in return, who had demonstrated that the very worst of her wouldn't drive them off. And unlike the two of them, he'd know it without her having to wrench the words out. He was warm and she trusted him, and that was enough.

Understanding clearly now what she was experiencing and what was wanted, he leaned down to whisper to her. "Close your eyes, and be still." He adjusted his hold on her to cover her forehead with one of his hands, and a slow drowsiness came over her. Eventually he pulled her down into a sound sleep, as the light of his healing gained in brightness. This was not so complex or difficult as eradicating the deep rage he'd seen in her before; that had been unusual enough to benefit from the assistance of his seneschal. This was far simpler of a task. He considered, as his power moved through her mind to correct what had ingrained itself, how this skill had most often been used to take away the memories of those who had encountered the elves in ages past, to preserve their anonymity. He was not sure he ever recalled using his gifts as he was using them now. And perhaps that was because before Lorna and Earlene, he had never called any of these mortals his friends. He was genuinely glad he could help her, and sincerely wanted her to have a chance at happiness. When his light ebbed away, she slept on, and he kissed her on her forehead. _I give you my blessing, firieth dithen (little mortal)_. He adjusted the cushions on the couch, and laid her down near the fire. But as he moved her to do so, he frowned. Her ribs, that he felt through her shirt...he placed his second hand on the opposite side, to verify that they did not feel the same. _What in the world…?_ He hesitated, but then reasoning that he was not in any way offending her modesty, carefully lifted the lower edge of her clothing to reveal the bottom of her ribs. He gasped to see the indentation from bones that had broken and never been properly set. Moving the fabric up just a little more to visualize the entire area, he saw the beginnings of a cruel scar that ran away under the cloth. Squeezing his eyes, shut, he made a decision. Unbuttoning the shirt everywhere but over her breast, he pulled back the fabric as needed to see the full extent of the injury and shook his head in pity before he returned all her clothing to how he had found it. He could live with the fact that she would never know he had done this afterward, and laid his hands over the gruesome reminders of what must have been a horrific wound, restoring what should never have been damaged so badly. She would wake in a while, but after the recollection of that ordeal, he felt she deserved some untroubled rest. Earlene would be back soon enough. Or so he thought, until he heard the anguish coming from his wife's mind. Without hesitation he ran from the room; it was not a good sign that she was in one of his dungeon cells.

After most of an hour of hard work, Earlene found herself revising her impression that she was better off with Thanadir teaching a physical discipline versus Thanadir teaching Sindarin. If anything, her instructor was more demanding in this capacity. And the thing of it was, it was impossible to become angry with him. If she'd ever seen a more masterful combination of cajoling, criticism, encouragement, expectation and expertly applied pressure to excel, she couldn't recall where. Truth be told, he reminded her of…. _her_. His method of discipline was quite similar to how she had treated herself in her law career; perhaps that was why it felt so comfortable and beyond reproach. Or at least, psychologically comfortable; the rest of her was tired and aching as her muscles protested against the clashing motions. Thranduil had schooled her at this every other day since their first lesson, and while she still had zero ability in her own estimation, she gave it her best and faithfully copied what she was shown to do in these drills. Her envy of their elegance and mastery was bottomless; it was obvious that for them this swordwork was as difficult as making scrambled eggs was for her. Finally, Thanadir released her, declaring that they were done for now, and praising her for her effort. She thanked him for his time, as always, and returned the blade to the table that was in the practice room.

"I will escort you back to your rooms, Earlene," he said. Biting her lip, she realized she very much wanted more time alone.

"Your Excellency, I know the way. May I please walk by myself?"

Thanadir tilted his head. It was not an unreasonable request, and his next obligation was closer to their present location by far. He smiled, and nodded. "Did Lorna tell you what kind of cake it was?" he asked hopefully.

Earlene laughed. "No, but I promise you that we will both find out at the same time. I will not allow it to be eaten without you."

The beatific grin that lit up his features was reward enough for her. With a bow of her head, she departed from the room. Having had many more days to explore, she had a rudimentary knowledge of where all the "main" areas within the Halls were now. Dining hall, kitchen, practice room, armory, throne area, the King's rooms and more were all now securely filed away. Including the dungeon, to which she felt suddenly drawn. That she had found herself unaccountably imagining that she was aiming her sword at Aidan during much of this session was unsettling her more than she wanted to admit. She was aware, because he had told her, that Thanadir would not often look into her thoughts unless he felt there was a compelling necessity. It was impossible to understand why it was difficult for him because she had no means for comprehending any of their telepathy; she could only accept that for the seneschal, such was the case. Working her way back to the gates, her mood descended further into blackness with each passing step, as her feet were drawn down the path into the dungeons. It was the first time she'd come here, since the day she'd been imprisoned in punishment for striking her King, an action she still remembered with shame. This place held no ill feelings for her, and she doubted she would be here except that all the rest of the Halls were beautiful and soothing, and this was the only place that could reflect how she felt right now. Finding the door that she remembered as the cell in which she'd been locked, she found that it swung open noiselessly. Still very warm from exercise, she nevertheless wrapped the thin blanket here around herself, knowing that sooner or later being overheated would turn to being too cold. Sitting on the stone bench, she drew her slippered feet up underneath her, and leaned her head into the soothing cool of the stone walls, wondering why thoughts of her brother were festering at the surface of her mind. For long minutes she sat very still, until she drifted to a place of being neither awake or asleep.

 _It was Christmas night, the year after she'd graduated from Columbia Law with honors, and been hired at her firm less than a month after receiving her degree and passing the New York Bar Exam with 398 out of 400 possible points. The entire family was gathered at Gran's farm upstate, and it being an Irish family, the very spiked holiday punch was flowing freely. Earlene had been having a fabulous time with Ma and Gran, laughing and sharing jokes in the large farmhouse kitchen as they cooked dinner for the large group. Both women had made no secret of how pleased they were for all she'd accomplished, though she tried to keep it toned down; she didn't want a scene with Aidan. It was a perfect evening thus far, largely because beyond saying "hello" to her brother, she hadn't spoken to him._

 _Four years older than Earlene and finished with his residencies, he was already a practicing specialist in his chosen field of neurology. He'd dated strings of women but had been unable to land "the one," and the latest of his love interests was here tonight with him; a sweet and pretty woman named Chelsea. Earlene very much acknowledged his achievements, and was proud of him in her own way, though she said little. Even light conversation about careers always turned ugly between them, and she'd learned long ago to never raise the topic._

 _At last they were all seated at dinner, with Granddad proudly carving the perfectly roasted turkey. And when everyone was seated and well into their meal, that was when it happened. Aunt Mary had asked Earlene to tell a little bit about her job; all of the family was proud of her. Her parents had made no secret of informing the rest of the family just how prestigious of a position Earlene had earned in her field. Before she could open her mouth to give a carefully framed answer, Aidan, who was drunk off his arse, broke in._

 _"Earlene's new job title is called Spinster For Life, Aunt Mary. Look at her. Twenty-six years old and never been on a date, and almost certainly never been...well, you know," he said cuttingly. "Earlene will never be attractive to anyone, and she'll die with a stack of books on corporate law next to her in bed."_

 _The entire room went deathly silent. Her da's face had gone beet red in anger as he rose from his chair and hauled his son out of the room by the collar, knocking over his chair. Earlene had a vivid memory of looking straight ahead, ignoring the horrified expression on the face of Aidan's date, with a very fake and very graceful smile plastered onto her face. "If everyone will please excuse me," she said softly. She rose from her chair and left the room, retrieved her coat and purse, walked to her car, and drove away. As she traveled slowly down the long drive to the main road, she had the presence of mind to stop for the ten seconds needed to power off her cell phone. And she drove, and she kept on driving until she reached her office in Lower Manhattan; the small parking garage was empty on Christmas night. Breathing shallowly, she took the elevator to the 30th floor, wondering why she'd never noticed the attractive pattern on the plush carpeting before. Like a robot in a trance she'd navigated to her office door, where she switched on the computer and sat down, looking at the stack of folders that organized assorted facets of the case she would litigate in two more days; her first for the firm and the one that would mark her as a brilliant rising star with unlimited potential in the eyes of her peers. As the operating system loaded, she brushed one tear from her cheek, and with an iron will banished the emotion and the memory from her mind._

 _Three weeks elapsed before she called her parents, and she made it abundantly clear that she did not wish to hear about what had happened, she did not wish to discuss it, and that in the future, she would not be in attendance at any family function at which Aidan was present; this Christmas had been the absolute last straw. Though, her insistence did not stop her mother from blurting out that Aidan's girlfriend broke up with him that night, over what he'd done._

But now she was neither at her office or in any circumstance to stop these poisonous recollections from consuming her; a combination of rage and disappointment and the sting of those words….and the truth of them. Tears poured out of her, as she began to fully awaken out of the memory that surfaced in a half-dream.

 _Hadn't Aidan been right? Hadn't he been right, about all of it? Look at her. The only reason she had a man to call her own now was the sheer insanity of an accidental situation. Who was she kidding? Had she not happened to pick this house, she would still be sleeping next to those law books. It wasn't like Thranduil would have ever seen her in a room full of women and said, "oooh, that one!" It was all a matter of circumstance and Elven law concerning marriage. Why would anyone want her?_ Tears gave way now to rasping sobs as this long-buried cruelty washed over her and tore at her mind.

Thranduil was moving toward her location as fast as he possibly could without creating a spectacle for which Earlene would not thank him, though he did send out a call to Thanadir to please stay with Lorna at his earliest convenience, to watch over her. Rushing to his wife, he picked her up and held her to him. "Meluieg. Earlene. I am here with you. You are not alone, my sweet one," he whispered. He would be in disbelief that anyone could speak so heartlessly to their own flesh and blood except that he knew better.

What to say to her beyond this was another question entirely. He had to find a way to answer this deeply held belief about her own undesirability with exactly the right words, because she was too intelligent to deceive with murmured assurances. She was correct; he would not have chosen her in the manner she now thought about, and he knew better than to insult her by claiming otherwise. And yet her feelings were not rooted in the truth. Yes, he had felt it was his duty to seduce her, but she was wrong, to think that no one would want her. That _he_ had not wanted her. From the first touch of her lips, he had desired her. From the first taste of her body, he had hoped his path would allow him to claim her, to fully join his flesh to hers.

For all his arrogance and lack of empathy in those first days, there was never a question that his lust for her had preceded his love; in his eyes she had been incredibly attractive, highly enticing, from solely a physical standpoint. Even at these remembrances, he felt a stirring in his groin; and he knew that it was this, that he had to communicate to her in a way that she could fully believe.

There was another way besides words, though he had never before attempted it. "Earlene, open your eyes. Please, meluieg, look at me."

It was not easy, but she slowly obeyed him, her sad and reddened eyes meeting his own. The instant she did, she inhaled sharply in surprise; he had torn away the barriers by which she was prevented from perceiving his mind, and built a bridge to allow her to see him as he saw her. It was a great strain, and he could not keep it up for long, but he could manage long enough for this.

He did not have to speak to her, or explain, because she _saw_. Not only his feelings for her, but most of that which he had never voiced; she was forced to understand that this ancient and beautiful being had indeed wanted her, and he wanted her even now. Her pain and humiliation at her brother's words were erased as her insides lurched with desire, and with thanks and silent pleading she reached down to stroke at the bulge in his breeches. Burning with mutual need, they completely ignored their ludicrous surroundings in their haste to remove enough clothing to join their bodies. Their encounter was as swift as their arousal had been. With nowhere to go that would not yield bruised limbs or torn knees, Thranduil had elected to hold her against him while he wildly bucked into her; she had little memory of the encounter except being locked against him in a passionate kiss until his frenzied movements gave both of them release. And afterward, he sat down carefully while still joined to her, as she cried more in gratitude for his love. She did not notice until afterward that somewhere amidst their contact, her connection to his mind faded. It did not matter.

He spoke very softly in her ear. "You have carried that inside of you for a very long time, Earlene. I am so sorry, that you were spoken to this way. When you told me that you had a living brother, I never thought to ask more questions concerning why you had no relationship with him. I hope you can see now that though his words were cruel, they were not true. And I want you to know that I do not keep you from knowing my thoughts willfully; it is regrettably a great difficulty for me to allow you to see them."

She nodded her head, while noticing the tear-stained mess she'd made of the front of his tunic.

"I have other tunics. Many other tunics. I forbid you to worry about clothing, at a time like this."

A second nod came, but it was accompanied by the beginnings of a smile. "Can I worry instead about when the last time was you had carnal relations in one of your own dungeon cells?"

He tightened his hold around her as he used all his determination to not laugh at full volume. "Oddly enough, I was thinking the same thing. But I am not sorry. However, in view of the fact that I do not need us being found in this state…" He gently lifted her off of him and set her down, reassembling himself enough to be presentable. Once he had laced himself up, and she had recovered her own items of clothing, he took her back into his embrace. "Our quarters are occupied by Lorna and Thanadir at the moment," he explained. "But something on the order of three thousand chambers with beds all lie empty. Do you desire more, Earlene? I would gladly share my love with you again, but perhaps in a more welcoming location?"

Her feelings of not wanting to take up his time ran headlong into her actual desire and for once, she chose what she wished for most. Shyly, she looked up at him eagerly, nodding. With a smile, he lifted her into his arms and descended further, taking her to long disused rooms where no one would find them. Or hear them.


	26. Chapter 26

Merry Christmas to All :-)

* * *

With a sigh, Earlene considered that they had a guest, that she had told Thanadir ages ago that she was heading to a destination she had never reached, and that as much as she still desired the attentions of her husband, she was on the verge of being physically drained. Bright blue eyes appeared over her face, hovering there. "You are feeling inclined to behave responsibly, meluieg?" he said mischievously.

Earlene laughed. "That is my usual inclination, my King. Though, I am grateful that this once, you led me astray. I needed this. I needed you. Thank you," she said, looking on him with open adoration.

"I am not done with you yet, wife," he said with eyes full of desire. "But I will concede that good manners dictate we should return." He lifted her easily to his arms and hugged her to him, rocking her. "I love you very much, Earlene."

Oh, how she did not wish to leave! But it was time, and there was the promise of more, later. "Len aníron," (I want you) she whispered, to feel his hold on her tighten a little more.

He smiled. "There is something else I must tell you. Lorna has had another...ordeal, today, that is private. We should treat her with extra kindness."

Earlene blinked at him, her mind already deducing. "And I had to pick today to add to your burdens, didn't I? I am so sorry, my Lord. I hope you understand, I was not trying to keep these things from you. I think I was trying to keep them from myself. I did not mean to have such bad timing."

"Meluieg, no...please do not think this way. I feel guilt, to have been caring for another while you were in pain."

She shook her head. "No. Do not. This was like...a boil, an infection. It chose its own time to burst; neither of us had any say in the matter." She gently pushed away, before leaning back toward him for one last kiss before dressing herself. "I will look forward to later, my Lord."

Lorna woke disoriented, at first not recognizing the cloud-soft pillow beneath her cheek. She was nice and warm, having been laid beside a fire, and it eased the strange ache in her chest.

The weird thing was that it wasn't an unpleasant ache - it felt rather like a wound had been lanced, and left her lighter. She'd felt rather the same thing when Thranduil and Thanadir took the rage from her: hollow, almost, but not in a bad way. The fact that she had a kitten sleeping under her chin no doubt helped her feel better.

She was beyond grateful, and yet part of her was disturbed - her rage and her grief had been part of her, in some measure and from various causes, her entire remembered life. Without them, who was she? _What_ was she? At thirty-nine years old, she was going to have to adapt to a very large change. The thought was intriguing, but it was also scary as hell. At least she'd have help figuring everything out.

For so much of her life, she'd blundered on full-speed ahead, with little thought to what might happen if she failed. She was too old to be doing that now, though; if she fell off a metaphorical cliff, she'd land hard, and she was no longer young enough to bounce. She wanted to figure out who and what she was, but she didn't want to go changing anything in ways that weren't her. She was a tiny ex-con with a filthy mouth, who had said and done some things both horrible and wonderful. She still had the temper of an Irishwoman - she was just no longer in any danger of resorting to violence unless it was offered to her first. Calling someone a gobshite and telling them to get fucked was quite a step back from braining them with a pint mug for looking at her funny.

She sat up enough to look into the fire, pensive, lifting the kitten onto her lap and wrapping her blanket around her. The kitten woke up long enough to yawn, then curled up on her lap and fell right asleep again. While the thought of Liam and their accident was never going to be pleasant, Thranduil was right - it was a distant thing, no longer crippling.

 _Who am I?_ she wondered - and then, because Mairead was a _Les Miserables_ fan and because her own brain was ridiculous, it responded with, _I'm Jean Valjean!_

The thought made her burst out laughing, and she brushed her fringe out of her face. Oh god dammit, now she was never getting that song out of her head. Ever. She hoped Thranduil liked show tunes, because he was going to be subjected to them whether either of them liked it or not.

Her stomach chose that moment to gurgle, making its demands for food quite well-known. Why she should be so hungry, she didn't know; maybe whatever Thranduil had done burned through the calories, even though she'd been still, or maybe she'd been asleep longer than she thought. Could she find the kitchens? She was pretty sure none of the elves besides Thranduil and Thanadir spoke English (and come to that, how did Thranduil become so fluent? She was pretty sure Thanadir hadn't known much - if any - before Earlene turned up...had Thranduil learned it just by telepathy?) That...was a fairly big accomplishment. English was such a weird bastard of a language that it was little wonder so many people had a hard time learning it. Then again, elves seemed to be some kind of linguistic geniuses, given how fast Thanadir had picked it up even in the brief time she'd known him.

How would she hack it, when it came to Sindarin? Lorna was one of those people who had an ability to understand a new language without an insane amount of difficulty, but as soon as you asked her to _speak_ in it, it all went out the window. Tatiana's rather scary tutoring was the only reason she could actually speak Russian aloud at all.

Christ, she needed food. She stood, and nearly choked on her own spit when she realized Thanadir had been there the entire time. "Sweet merciful _Christ_ ," she said, her heart lurching. "You lot are too quiet for humans." The kitten, naturally, had to scale her chest; thankfully, she always wore at least two layers of shirts outside of summer, so it didn't hurt nearly so much as it would have otherwise.

She eyed him. Did it make her shallow, that she wasn't attracted to any of the elves? Was she really so narrow-minded, that the fact that they were so pale automatically put her off? The answer was probably 'yes'. It disturbed her that she could _be_ so shallow, but it also made her worry: there was, after all, always a chance Ratiri was the same way, and preferred someone who looked like...oh, Siobhan. Should he, she could hardly fault him for it, especially given the way she was herself...hell. She wished she looked like Earlene.

She thought of Earlene with a pang of...not jealousy, because she liked Earlene too much to ever be jealous of her...but, well, Earlene was beautiful. There was no grey in her glossy dark hair, and her skin hadn't seen the kind of sun and wind Lorna's had. She was tall and she had a perfect figure, and she was basically everything Lorna wasn't.

And the thing was, until recently, Lorna hadn't _cared_. What she looked like was of little consequence; she didn't want men to notice her, so it was just as well that none did. Save for when she'd been with Liam, she'd always been one of the lads, and she'd enjoyed it. True, she'd been a lad with very long hair, but still.

Ugh, she couldn't think of this right now. Not when she was so hungry. "Could you take me to the kitchens, Thanadir? I'm about ready to eat the sofa, I'm that hungry."

Previously unnoticed by her, there had been a small bowl of fruit on a sideboard, and the elf immediately moved to begin slicing an apple. "The King and Earlene will be here shortly, and now that you have woken I will go to return with food. No one has eaten. But here is something so that His Majesty's sofa can remain uneaten." He smirked while handing her the plate. Of course all the apple slices were arranged in a perfect pinwheel pattern and were meticulously uniform in size. _Elves._ "Please excuse me, I will not need long."

Thanadir swept out of the room, nearly crashing into Earlene, who had a very guilty look on her face. However, seeing no censure in Thanadir's smile, she relaxed a little as she passed him. The "Queen" routine meant nothing to her; she knew perfectly well who actually kept this little empire, as well as her husband, on an even keel. "i Hîr nîn," (my Lord) she said to him respectfully, having decided that it was ridiculous to keep on unvaryingly with the heavily Anglicized "Your Excellency". Someday she would have to ask Thranduil where on earth he'd picked that one up. Now that she realized that the title had no Sindarin equivalent, that he had chosen to initially instruct her to say that to Thanadir made little sense to her. Though, to be fair, given the amount of effort that had gone into her just trying to remember 'i Aran nîn', could she really blame him? At any rate, his amused yet appreciative expression as he nodded his head in acknowledgement of her address at least told her that she had managed an appropriate choice. There was little doubt in her mind that an incorrect phrase would have met with a kind but immediate correction.

"Gelialennol vaer, Earlene" (You learned well, Earlene), Thranduil said approvingly.

"Defin, i Aran nîn", (I try, my King) she said with humility, before moving along so she could see her friend. "How are you today, Lorna? I'm fried and starving and am having predatory thoughts about Mairead's cake. Or a hot bath. A little of both, actually." She smiled and hoped that her humor was worth a damn just now.

Lorna tried to repeat the words under her breath, and of course her accent made a complete hash of all of them. "I'm better than I was," she said honestly, looking up at Earlene. "Your little friend here took a nap with me." The kitten had decided her shoulder was a perfect place to perch - which wouldn't have been an issue, except it had also burrowed its way into her hair, and was now purring like a tiny chainsaw in her left ear. Oh well. Cats were cute, it was how they got away with everything up to and including actual murder. "I'm just about starving too, though." She had no-so-discreetly managed to eat half the apple slices on the plate in very short order, but at least had enough manners not to lick her sticky fingers.

Earlene glanced at the plate. "I'd keep eating, if I were you. Don't tell me. Thanadir sliced the apple?" she asked with poorly concealed amusement and a sigh. "I think there is probably….nothing, he can't do perfectly."

"That isn't true, meluieg. There is at least one thing."

"Oh?" Earlene asked with a general tone of disbelief.

Thranuil noted that even Lorna looked highly interested in the answer...though he tried not to laugh as she surreptitiously ferried another apple slice to her mouth. _Lorna, just eat the apple. None of us think less of you for being hungry_ , he said with mock sternness as he looked at her. "I will tell you but only if both of you promise never to let him know. At least, insofar as you have any control over the matter. He is still rather sensitive about it." The nodding heads from both women both gave their assent. With a grin, he continued, lowering his voice. "Thanadir cannot bake to save his life. During the most recent...era, when he and I were the last to fade, there was a brief time when we both still required food. Every day for two weeks he occupied the kitchens, trying to make heads or tails of dough and the stoves, and every day something resembling what I believe your kind calls 'hard tack' was the result. Any of your biscuits have been airy clouds by contrast, Earlene. There is a reason he enjoys your food as much as he does," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Earlene's lips parted. _Baking is easy_ , she thought. _Well okay maybe not easy, there is some knowledge and art involved, but it hardly requires a degree in aerospace engineering...poor Thanadir._

Lorna didn't quite choke on her apple slice, but it was a near thing. Jesus, even she could bake - not very well, mind you, nothing fancy, but her food was edible and even sometimes enjoyable. Part of her felt quite terrible for being relieved that Thanadir wasn't perfect, but, relieved she was.

She polished off the last of the apple, giving Thranduil a mock glower as she did so. He really did seem to enjoy winding her up - but then, she did make it a bit easy, and she didn't particularly mind. Big Jamie did the same thing - Thranduil was just better at it, and she blamed at least part of that on his eyebrows. With them, he was capable of facial expressions Big Jamie just couldn't pull off. It probably wasn't a talent he was aware he had...well, until now. _Oops._

Laughing, Thranduil was saved from going further astray by the arrival of Thanadir, who bore a large tray of meats, breads and cheeses; there was also something that strongly resembled a beet and cabbage salad. Earlene was happy to see this, as it meant that the vegetables she'd ordered were actually being used and eaten. That and, she really liked beets and cabbage. The table was set and Lorna was pointedly encouraged to sacrifice manners and begin eating. Though, Thranduil's comment that just this once, they wouldn't tell her Gran almost earned him a kick under the table. Almost.

"So, I've got more news from Niamh," she said, at least managing not to chew and talk at the same time. "She's found a doctor who'll do exams for the ID's, and who won't ask any questions if we throw enough money at her. Downside's that she's in Dublin, so it's a bit'v a drive." She didn't look at Thanadir, but she didn't too. Dublin was almost two hours away, most of it on the motorway; she really needed an excuse to get him to drive around the village with her first - one that wouldn't offend his pride. As for Thranduil...yikes. With his telepathy, and Dublin being...Dublin...he might have an issue, too. They'd probably both be wanting a drink by the end of the day - hell, they all might.

The kitten chose that moment to creep down her arm, cross the table, and hop onto Earlene's lap, purring all the while. How such a tiny thing could make such a loud noise, Lorna had no idea, but she wanted one. If only she was able to take care of one...her jobs being what they were, she might well be away from home days at a time.

"Not on the table, Tail!" Earlene said in horror as the little fluffball plopped into her lap. "I am sorry," she said, even though there was no way anyone could have stopped it. She needn't have worried, because Thranduil was too busy shaking with suppressed laughter at the look on Thanadir's face. Amused, the King broke off a small tidbit of meat and offered it to the kitten. Earlene's eyes widened. _My Lord, you will teach him to expect human food while we are eating, if you do that. With respect, I sincerely...discourage this._ She felt helpless...it was soooo not her place to correct him here, but she'd spent hours reading on what not to do with a pet cat and this was close to the top of the list. A light frown passed over Thranduil's face, which she caught. _At least I managed not to say it aloud._

 _So you did_. He sighed. I suppose you are right. _Though, what is the point of them if they cannot be spoiled a little?_

Earlene decided it was wise to completely avoid answering. "How far away is Dublin, Lorna? Will it be possible to care for the appointment and meeting with Niamh on the same day? That would be wonderful….I hate to have you carting us all over Ireland yet I see little alternative."*

"Close to two hours, depending on traffic," Lorna said. _Less, if I drive like normal_ , she thought, but she wasn't about to say that aloud. "I'm sure we can do both the same day. Niamh got really accommodating once I threw money at her." She hadn't actually heard that specific tone on...well, anyone, once Lorna told her that cost was no object, followed by a thousand euros as a retainer. "I'll try to get my hands on something better than Mick's van, but I'm not sure what else I'd find that'd seat all'v you comfortably." Much as she'd always been unhappy about her lack of height, at least she didn't have an uncomfortable time sitting in cramped places. Liam, one drunken evening, had said, You're not small, you're _storage-compatible_. How odd it was, to think of that memory without it hurting.

"I thought the van was fine. It ran and it's local; hard to ask for much more than that without having to get ridiculous and buy our own vehicle that you'd still get stuck driving everywhere. Were you comfortable in it, Thranduil?"

The King nodded. "Obviously I have no other experience for comparison, but I can tell you that it is considerably more comfortable than an elk or a horse."

Earlene put her improvised sandwich down for a moment, because...well, she'd never thought about that. Not remotely. _There are times I wish there was wine here_ , she thought, with a light shake to her head.

"There is wine here," said Thranduil aloud. "Would you like to try some?"

Earlene stared at him. "There is? How could...oh, never mind. If it won't make me grow a third hand, yes, I would. I like wine. Do you drink wine, Lorna?" Earlene realized that this had never exactly come up in conversation; she just assumed everyone in Ireland would rather have beer or something stronger yet.

Lorna didn't actually make grabby-hands, but she thought about it really hard. "Sometimes," she said. "Big Jamie's not so big on it, but there's a few in the village that like a glass of an evening. I couldn't much tell you a good wine from a bad, though, unless it's straight vinegar. Mairead bought some when she and Kevin had their fifteenth anniversary, and I thought it tasted like cough syrup. Not that that was a bad thing," she added. She'd actually been quite proud of herself for not getting into the bottle later and drinking the whole thing.

Thanadir spoke. "i Aran nîn, sa inc ma? Ti firith." (My King, is that a good idea? They are mortals)

It took Earlene a moment to puzzle out what was said, and then her eyebrows arched. Then again, assuming her husband did not wish to kill her, he probably had a plan. And Lorna could probably drink pure ethanol and still go dancing. But, she decided to simply ignore that Thanadir had actually said anything.

"Ú-gosto, Thanadir" (Fear not, Thanadir). Standing and going to the sideboard, he broke open a sealed bottle of wine. He poured a tiny amount into two glasses. As in, about an ounce each, before filling two other glasses.

"I am letting you taste it as we drink it, because I know you are curious. Beyond this, though, I cannot provide it in good conscience without first watering it down. Even for you, Lorna, this will be very, very strong. Its properties go beyond alcohol content, shall we say?" He placed the glasses in front of them.

"Why do I feel like I am being handed a chemistry experiment?" Earlene asked. After what she'd just heard, she basically decided that the safest thing would be to simply wet her lips in order to gain a taste of it. Raising the glass, she smelled it and was immediately astonished. While she was used to the complexities of wine, this was amazing. It was as if grapes and berries and flowers and wood flavors and the entire wine universe was all in there. It had a deep, dense burgundy color and she did not know if she should be worried that it had an astonishing opacity. And the flavor was...trouble. It was delicious beyond anything that she had ever tasted and god she wanted more...but felt afraid. But she just had to have more of it. She had to. She let herself swallow half of what was there, savoring the incredible taste. Looking up at Lorna, she was curious to see her reaction.

Being thirty-nine rather than nineteen, Lorna didn't just slam it back right off. She followed Earlene's example and tasted it, bit by bit, and immediately wished she could have an entire damn barrel of it. If this was what wine was supposed to be like, she didn't wonder why so many spent so much time rattling on about it. And then it kicked her right in the teeth.

She'd always been a fan of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, and before she registered what left her mouth, she said, "Is this like a real-life Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster?" Holy shit, her head hadn't felt this floaty since she was a teenager - half like the top of her skull was trying to unscrew itself, and yet it was not at all an unpleasant sensation. It wasn't quite like being properly drunk, either; warmth traveled through her veins, like liquid sunshine, leaving her more at peace with the world than she'd been in ages. She was so relaxed in her chair she felt a bit like a noodle.

Earlene immediately began giggling. "Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster? I haven't heard that one in years. Lorna, do you remember the Vogon poetry? 'And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, or else I'll rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!" At this point the giggles morphed into nearly uncontrollable laughter; Earlene was having trouble catching her breath. "And Marvin the Robot? 'Brain the size of a planet, and all I get to do is open doors?' "

Earlene might have registered that Thanadir was shaking his head in dismay, if her eyes had not been clouded by the tears of laughter running down her cheeks. It was a full-blown episode of hysterical mirth. "O freddled gruntbuggly," piped Earlene, laughing harder still. Thranduil swiftly removed the glass from his wife as he caught the seneschal's frosty look that said 'I tried to warn you.'

Lorna burst out laughing. "And the whale," she said. "The whale and the petunias that thought 'oh no, not again'. I want to go to the restaurant at the end of the universe." It normally took a very, very large amount of alcohol to get her truly drunk, with the result that she rarely had been in her life. Now, however, she was completely ossified, and so relaxed she was close to boneless - which meant that when she twisted around in her chair so she could rest her feet on the back, she nearly slithered right off and onto the floor. "Though I bet they don't have a decent cheeseburger, all that way from any planet with a self-respecting cow." The thought only made her laugh harder, even as she struggled to untangle herself from the mess that was her own hair. Rather like a spiderweb, it had caught her - and unfortunately, her attempts only led her to fall right out of her chair after all.

"Oops," she said, still too much of a noodle to even register anything like pain. "That was-" She hauled herself to her feet, more or less, and blinked hard. Everything appeared to be very gently rocking, like a ship at sea, her balance completely shot. "What the hell's in that wine?" she asked, giving Thranduil as suspicious a look as she was actually capable of, under the current circumstances. "It's like...special brownies, only, y'know, wine." She dissolved into laughter all over again, and got the fantastic idea to haul herself up over the back of her chair - fortunately, she was light enough that she didn't just tip the whole thing over. She did, however, get stuck like that briefly, unable to go forward or back, eventually pitching head-first onto the seat. "...I meant to do that," she said, through a fit of giggles.

Openly glaring at his King, Thanadir rose and gently guided Lorna back into her chair. "Boe annon nen andin" (It is necessary to give them water) he said to Thranduil, who was genuinely surprised that the miniscule amount had so swiftly yielded this result. Earlene had mostly dried her tears and was beginning to manage intervals during which she didn't laugh, until she exclaimed "Forty-two!" after which both women immediately started up with fresh peals of mirth. Thranduil hastened to pour them water into unbreakable drinking vessels, encouraging both of them to drink. Thanadir deduced that the key to success would come from getting each of them to stop reflecting on their shared humor, since they were obviously egging each other on to new rounds of laughter. He turned Lorna's chair so that she had to look at him, and waited until she could listen to his instructions to drink the water. Thranduil saw, and did likewise with Earlene. And nobody noticed that Tail took the opportunity to jump back onto the table, and was now standing in the center of the platter of food, happily chewing on a long slice of roasted meat. It took the better part of five minutes for the water to be consumed, but afterward Lorna and Earlene sat quietly with only brief and occasional eruptions of humor. Their faces were plastered with beatific smiles as they both took renewed interest in their food.

With wide eyes Thranduil was the first to notice the kitten, which he whisked into one hand (meat slice and all), and placed on the floor before his seneschal could catch sight of it, counting himself extremely fortunate that he had escaped detection. When Thanadir finally did return to his meal, he immediately drained two thirds of his glass in one swallow. Right about the same time, Earlene sat up and said to her friend, "You brought cake!"

"I did," Lorna said, still weaving a little even where she sat. "It's a Mairead cake, so it's extra good, and at least it's big." She was utterly starving again - why did elf wine give you the munchies? Did it have some of the same properties as weed? If so, no bloody wonder the elves liked it so much. She wondered if it would be possible to duplicate the effect with some substance that wouldn't, you know, kill them if they had more than a sip or two. Unfortunately, despite all her connections, she didn't know anyone with the background in chemistry that would be needed to figure _that_ one out. "Would this - okay," she said, looking at Thranduil, who still appeared as though he were rocking slightly, "if this was like, diluted and baked into brownies, would it still get people drunk without poisoning anyone? Because it would make some seriously tasty brownies." The richness of the wine, with its trace of sweetness that wasn't too much, would go _fantastically_ with chocolate, and there was so much alcohol in it that she doubted it would all bake out.

Thanadir rolled his eyes. He did not need to ask what a 'brownie' was to understand that this had been a terrible decision.

Clearing his throat while trying to maintain his waning (if not outright tenuous) hold on the dignity of his table, Thranduil opted to change the subject. "I shall serve the cake," he declared, noting that Thanadir had finished his meal and that Earlene was idly sweeping her finger across her plate, mopping up crumbs to lift to her lips. He un-boxed it carefully and cut into it as he'd seen Mairead do previously. Holding the knife at the angle for the second cut, he looked at his seneschal questioningly, asking silently if the slice was large enough, and sighed as he moved the knife in an ever widening angle until the subtle frown transformed into the hint of a smile. _I will never hear the end of this_ , thought the King, _even though no words will ever be spoken_. Transferring the substantial slab onto a plate, he passed it over to Thanadir's waiting hands before slicing much smaller servings for the women. For himself he took the barest shaving and placed it on a plate; he fully intended to have several glasses of wine instead.

"Oooh, custard filling!" declared Earlene. "It's a shame that Mairead doesn't run the bakery, no disrespect intended to your friend Siobhan. Do you know, I thought the chocolate syrup she used in those buns could have been of a far better quality?" Just at that moment, she heard a vaguely strangled noise come from her husband but elected to ignore it...the cake was too delicious and she was still _starving_.

Lorna, naturally, went and straight-up inhaled half her cake at that, hacking like a deranged TB patient as she fought to bring up the crumbs. Even now, she had just enough presence of mind to do her best not to actually waste her slice, because that would be a crime. "Given some'v the things she'd like to use that syrup for, I'm surprised it wasn't," she said, in between coughs. She'd somehow got frosting on her nose _and_ her chin, and trying to wipe it off just succeeded in smearing it further. "Apparently she can get a bit...creative, though I still maintain there's places syrup just shouldn't go. According to Molly, her term is 'chocolate popsicle'." She tried not looking at Thranduil - she really did, but she couldn't help it, and then she was choking and laughing at the same time, tears springing to her eyes as a stitch developed in her side. At least she managed to say no more than that, and thus avoided embarrassing Thranduil or Earlene any further (though she wondered, as she wheezed, if he was actually capable of blushing or not).

Earlene paused, her fork hovering over her cake. Thranduil looked sideways with trepidation as Earlene's analytical mind flared to life. Even under the influence of the elven wine, she did not miss a thing. Looking up to assure herself that Thanadir showed no signs of looking on in her mind at this exact moment, her gaze returned to her cake. She sent one thought only to her husband: _Busted_. Whether he knew that idiom or not remained to be seen, as the corners of her mouth barely turned up in a smile. Aloud, and with a completely straight face she said, "well, it's good cake, and there is certainly nothing wrong with a well-made cream filling." Before anyone could react, Earlene deftly changed the subject. "Lorna, who was the handsome man you were chatting up at the pub, is he someone you know?"

Thranduil silently rose to pour himself another glass of wine, returning with the bottle of it to the table as Earlene looked on in silent envy. It had been almost cruel, to be allowed to taste something so wonderful that she so obviously could not have without the consequence of an early demise.

 _Well-made cream filling_...of course that set Lorna off again, though this time she managed to contain herself soon enough. She was still giggling, however, when she wiped her face with a very nice napkin, and managed to speak. "I'd just met him," she said, sipping water to clear the last of the crumbs from her throat. "He's Doc Barry's cousin. Hasn't got any idea how to talk to women, but I don't know how to talk to men, either, so we're even there. I actually want to talk to him," she added. "I haven't wanted to talk to a bloke in years, not like that. There's something... _something_ about him." It was quite apart from the fact that he was bloody gorgeous, too; she'd seen her share of attractive men over the years, but he was the first one she'd wanted to get to know. She was actually rather relieved Ratiri could be so awkward; it meant she wasn't alone. "He's a doctor himself, apparently, though he didn't say why he'd come to Baile, I get the feeling there's something he's leaving behind." There were only so many things _I needed a change_ could mean, after all. "If I knew more about him, I'd ask him to do the exam on these two, and save the lot of you from a trip to Dublin. If he's too observant, though, he'll notice too many things that don't add up for you two to be human, and that'd be...well, I don't know if it'd be bad or not, but I'd rather not risk it. Dublin'll be...well, it'll be an experience, but it's safer." Even now, she was giggling every so often - just more quietly.

Calling Dublin 'safer' than anything was a bit hilarious, but it really would be an experience. It wasn't that she was afraid the elves couldn't take care of themselves - what she feared was that they could do it too well. Humans were, after all, quite fragile compared to elves; one too-hard punch could probably break some bastard's face.

 _We are more than capable of not leaving a swath of destruction in our wake, Lorna._ There was a hint of irritability to his tone, which hardly seemed reasonable since he was on what, his third glass of that miracle elixir? Lorna rolled her eyes.

Earlene spoke. "When do you think we'll be able to do this, Lorna? It sounds like this will be an all-day adventure. Do you know how, erm, _thorough_ of an exam this is likely to be?" Earlene knew enough to know what places a health exam on a male could include and did not envy the ellyn the idea of fingers. There.

 _You've never been to Dublin_ , Lorna said. _The destruction might find you, whether you like it or not. You only think you've seen drunk Irish people on a rampage. If you don't believe me, take a look at some of my teenage memories._ Aloud, she said, "Niamh said any time in the next week'd be good, since the doc knows we've got money. From what she's said, it's not _that_ invasive - no 'turn your head and cough' sort've thing. The just want to make sure the person's healthy, doesn't have a heart murmur or anything like that. Peeing in a jar to check kidney function's probably the most invasive thing you've got to worry about." Fortunately. While she figured both elves could put up with a more, uh, thorough exam, they'd hate it, and she wouldn't blame them. Some things were their own special brand of hell. At least they'd never, ever have to deal with a pelvic exam. The mere thought made her twitch.

"Well, then, my King, what day do you think would be best? Most human institutions function on having appointments in advance; we should schedule as soon as possible for the sake of orderliness."

At the word "orderliness," a smile broke out on Thanadir's face, and Earlene worked very hard not to burst into more giggles. While the effects of the wine were ebbing fast, she was not yet free of its grip. Averting her eyes, she focused instead on her last bite of cake.

Thranduil was now halfway down his fourth glass, and appeared completely unaffected by the beverage. Truthfully, his mind was currently occupied by the disturbing imagery of rectal and pelvic exams he had just seen in the two women. _In what barbarity did these humans engage?_ he wondered to himself. "You choose, Lorna. As you are the one who must drive us, it makes far more sense that we bend our time around your availability."

"Mick's not got anything on the books tomorrow," Lorna said, still giggling a bit. "I'll see if I can get us in tomorrow afternoon or so. If I throw enough money at this doctor, I'm sure she'll do whatever the hell I want." Heading into Dublin in the afternoon also meant the traffic wouldn't be too heinous, and if they got out soon enough, there wouldn't be rush hour on the way back, either. It wasn't just the elves' nerves she was worried about, either - driving like an actual sane person was surprisingly difficult for her, and managed to set her on edge. All her aggressive instincts clamored to be let free, but with passengers, she just couldn't be that much of an asshole, even if two of them hadn't been quite new to driving in general.

"So just to clarify; doctor, meet with Niamh who then can presumably be able to file this paperwork, and...Lorna, you need to tell us of any expenses you are paying. You aren't to be using your salary to cover anything at all for us...petrol, clothing you end up buying...anything. And I wondered, my Lord, if Lorna and I could return to the cottage after lunch to discuss...human things."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed at his inability to easily see what 'human things' amounted to, but as the beginnings of his fifth and final glass of wine had finally mellowed him (final, only because the bottle was now emptied), he consented. A barrage of very rapid Sindarin from Thanadir commenced as he began to clear the table. Earlene was beginning to suspect more than a little that as she gained in ability, the two of them were deliberately speaking faster and faster when they wished her to not understand. Which made no sense, as they still had telepathy but... _elves._

"Sounds right," Lorna said, eying the empty bottle. Someday, she wanted to experiment with watering it down, and see what happened. "I've not told Niamh anything but that I've got two ID-less men and I can pay for her to get them whatever they need. She shouldn't go asking any personal questions, even if she's curious." Which she probably would be; even to one who didn't know the elves weren't human, there was something just... _different_ about them, something indefinable but almost palpable. _Human things_...she wasn't sure what that meant, but in conjunction with their current conversation, she was afraid it had something to do with pelvic exams, oh god. No, Lorna hadn't had one in twenty years, nor was she going to ever have another one, thanks so much. There were things that went in places things like that just shouldn't go, and all of them were cold, and she had no idea why any woman would do that more than once.

"Then we will excuse ourselves; thank you very much for the lunch, Thanadir, and the cake, Lorna." With a gesture for Lorna to follow, they departed, leaving the two elves to...whatever important business was at hand. When they were out of the warren of tunnels and into the main cavern of Thranduil's Hall, Earlene finally spoke. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to not think about Zaphod Beeblebrox around a telepath? I mean, I'm guessing you do, but…." her giggles pealed through the otherwise vast and silent chamber, causing a few random elves to look up from their occupations and smile. The mortals were interesting, and well-thought of.

"I've given up trying to not think'v any certain thing around Thranduil," Lorna said. "It only means I wind up thinking'v it in more detail than I would otherwise. I'm glad my brain amuses him, because I've got no control over it whatsoever. I think the term is 'word vomit'." It was much better that he start laughing than start looking ill, or irritated. She wasn't actually sure what the hell she was going to do, should she and Ratiri ever actually manage something...she thought Ratiri was quite pretty, but she doubted Thranduil would be terribly thrilled by whatever _appreciative_ thoughts she had about the man.

It was a swift walk through a pleasantly sunny afternoon back through the woods to the cottage, while they chatted and laughed more about favorite science fiction books and shows they'd both enjoyed. The aftermath of it involved a promise to have a movie night with buttered popcorn and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, elves or no elves. Where "Hitchhiker's Guide" cracks and jokes left off, movie quotes began until the two of them rolled inside, having laughed until it was becoming painful. By mutual agreement, they set aside the topic before they both needed over the counter pain relievers to manage their aching sides.

"So the not so big-deal reason I wanted to return here is to finally make good on the Sindarin, if you're still in any kind of a mood to take a look at it. I was hoping that they'd stay in the Halls because….for all they obviously speak it better than I do, they don't entirely understand what it's like for a native English speaker to tackle it. I'm quite possibly being an idiot, but I thought I'd have a better chance of explaining it to you while being less intimidating. Though, I have to say, Thanadir is one hell of a tutor. Thranduil is of course brilliant, but he doesn't stay as focused and disciplined like Thanadir does when he's teaching, and he can also get a little more impatient. Thanadir, no matter how badly I'm screwing up, never takes a misstep but...god he can be stern and demanding, and I always feel like I'd rather die than disappoint him or waste his time. That's my short two cents on the elves and their comparative tutoring skills, anyway. And the last thing? No matter how often I remind or beg the two of them to speak slower around me so I can hear them, they forget. That or they're speeding up deliberately, hell if I know."

"Thanadir sounds like Tatiana," Lorna said. "She was my cellmate in prison, and she taught me Russian. Every time I got something wrong, she'd smack my knuckles, until I gave up and lamped her out. Not a solution that would work with Thanadir." Even if it _would_ work - if it probably wouldn't hurt herself rather than him - he just had that _face_. She could easily see Thranduil getting a bit cranky, too - the problem with having someone who was genius at something was that they didn't properly comprehend why something that was easy for them wasn't that easy for everyone else. Her eyes narrowed. "Speeding it up? If we can speak it aloud enough, they won't be able to get away with that for long."

"I'll confess that speaking it is my weakest skill" she quipped while setting the kettle on to heat. "I do better with what I can see on paper in front of me, and the sounds they have and the rules of pronunciation are of course...well, you'll see." She gestured for Lorna to sit at the sofa, reasoning that they currently had the entire coffee table free for spreading out papers. An intimidating stack of papers and books hit the table with a plunk. Earlene sat, and pulled out a few things. "Though I've been rubbish at getting together with you about this, I did plan well enough to get you your own materials started. The two main things here are a large printout that covers nearly all the relevant grammar, and a dictionary. What do you have for a computer...is there a laptop or notebook you have to use? Because if not, you'll need one of those too."*

"I've got a laptop," Lorna said, eying the papers. "It's at Mick's right now." Okay, this was a lot to take in, but she could do it. Typed things weren't really an issue for her anymore; she might read a bit more slowly than normal, but not by a very great deal. So long as she kept plugging along every night once she'd got home (or rather, back to Mick's flat) she'd be able to get through it in a fairly reasonable amount of time. The alphabet for Sindarin would be another story entirely, but she'd imagine everyone had some level of trouble with that. It wouldn't look odd if she just had a bit more than most.

"There are other papers here too. One is a chart of their alphabet. The others are verb charts; shortcut reminders to how to conjugate verbs in the various tenses...but they are only general guides because of course there are exceptions. And I'm going to totally back up here. I'm used to thinking about information in a certain kind of way. I don't expect that you do. Don't worry about what you might not have learned yet; it makes no difference. We will start wherever we have to. Did you get along with grammar, in school? If I go on about participles and adverbs and the like, does that work?" Earlene suddenly felt awash in waves of awkwardness, because there was absolutely zero truly good way to ask someone about their level of education without coming off like a goddamn snob. But at the same time, she had to have some idea of where they were beginning; it wouldn't help either of them if she was speaking Greek the entire time she tried to explain this shite.

"I know nouns and adverbs and that," Lorna said, neglecting to mention that she'd learned it all in prison, not school. "Participles...not so much. I went to school in the shitty south end'v Dublin - our teachers weren't that worried about what we learned or didn't learn." And she'd left school at fourteen, but even if she hadn't, she doubted she would have learned that much. "They didn't figure any'v us would grow up to need to know that much. None'v us were going to be doctors or the like." Unbeknownst to Earlene, Lorna was feeling rather awkward, too, because there was no way Earlene could understand the school system of 80's Dublin, and how little almost everyone had cared about the kids on the south side.

"Ok, no problem. By tomorrow I'll have a printout for a reference list of parts of speech that will include examples of what-in-hell is meant, in plain English. Unfortunately, this being an offbeat and supposedly invented language, the only worthwhile grammars out there explain themselves as though you know all that already. And I've got to warn you too, there are a lot of crap websites out there, which just makes it harder to tell the ones that are worth looking at from those that aren't." She stood up to head off the kettle, which was about ready to shriek. "The only other thing to say just now is, come at this without caring about it too much. It's got some quirks that are going to send you straight down the bottle of your strongest stuff if you go at it like I did, feeling like I had to have it all learned in a week. There are fun exercises that just involve short phrases, things people actually say to each other...take in those first. It will make the parts that are truly no fun seem less godawful. And Thranduil reminds me a lot, the entire point of this is that all the other elves like as not won't learn any English; he wants me to be able to talk to more than just him and Thanadir." Her sense of feeling awkward had only expanded as she spoke; it was time to just shut it before this turned into a church sermon.

"It can't be worse than Russian," Lorna said, and hoped like hell she was right. She picked up the top paper off the stack. "Christ, I know more about Russian grammar than English. Fucking accusative case made me want to murder Tatiana and the entire prison." If she could sort these all out aloud, and associate each with a taste or a smell, it would make her life much, much easier. This section was by necessity going to be associated with this fragrant black tea. "If I make a hash'v it at first...well, that's how I learned Russian. I was awful. I got the bones down, then worked out the details later, though I never did manage to speak it as well as I understand it - seriously, that fucking accusative case can fuck off and die in a fucking fire. It's the same with Welsh; I can understand it well enough, but speaking it I sound like a drunken sailor. Then again, my accent's so heavy that I have a hell'v a time in any language. I was trying to repeat the words I heard in the halls, and I'm pants at it."

Earlene debated if she should say this, and then decided...Yes. "There's something else, too. That alphabet was invented by an elf that lived a million years ago, Fëanor was his name. He was apparently dark-haired, gorgeous, talented and brilliant beyond all description and he went about as bad as an elf could go. The things he did led to elves murdering other elves. Specifically, if I understood right, murdering those who were the ancestors and kin of Thranduil's people. All these years later, it is still a sore subject for him, and by pure bad luck I blundered right into the middle of the emotional core of what happened. He...let's just say it wasn't a pleasant day around here. The language we are trying to learn, Sindarin, is different than the elven language Fëanor's lot spoke. That was called Quenya. It was older, more developed, and arguably prettier than Sindarin….and a lot of Sindarin words come from Quenya. But in Thranduil's youth, one of their kings banned people from speaking Quenya. I can't say as any of this could matter in your learning, but I just wanted you to know that this...political and emotional pitfall exists. And that if you ever come across something called the Oath of Fëanor, it might be a good idea never to practice reading it aloud here." Maybe she shouldn't have told all that to Lorna, but she meant well. She'd never fully gotten past seeing Thranduil's anger, and did not want her friend to ever experience that if she could somehow help her to avoid it.

Lorna winced. "Did he flip out?" she asked. She could scarcely imagine hating someone so much that the mere sound of words could piss you off - not even her father had pulled _that_ one off, and she wondered, as she'd wondered several times, whether or not living so long wasn't a double-edged sword. When something awful happened to you, you literally had eternity to let it stew, and probably only get worse with years. And if this Fëanor had straight-up murdered some of Thranduil's family...yeeeesh. That would be a bit more than a sore spot. "It seems so mental - all this being something real, and almost nobody knowing. I wish that Tolkien bloke was still alive, because I'd love to ask him a lot'v pointed questions." Obviously he wasn't someone who'd met an elf and learned all this from them, or Thranduil probably would have known about it...how damn weird. It would do her head in, if she wondered about it too much.

"I guess the best comparison would be if The Troubles had been caused by just one person, and the by association that man's sons and daughters. Imagine how everyone on the wrong side of the violence would feel about that name...and if there was a speech, or a declaration, that they used to stir the violence, how you'd feel about hearing it no matter who said the words. I need to read more, but Fëanor made all seven of his sons swear an oath that led to all of the bad that happened. And it was all over three jewels; amazing jewels that captured light like no other and that only he had learned how to create. And yeah, Thranduil flipped out. But at least he did better than I did. The one time I got that mad at him, I hit him as hard as I could. All he did was yell and leave. And….Jesus, that was TMI. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ever said that. If there is any chance you could somehow forget I mentioned that, I'd appreciate it. I'm never going to not feel like crap for what I did."

Lorna's eyebrows went up. "Earlene, allanah, I'm a bartender," she said. "Believe me, I've heard worse. Hell, I've _done_ worse. I can't say I've ever hit my boyfriend 'cause I was furious, but I've hit a load'v other people, half the time with more than my fists. You don't seem the sort to lamp someone out - what's the word? Premeditatedly?" She seriously couldn't imagine Earlene smacking someone out of malice aforethought, unless she were actively in danger. "At least you didn't break his nose with half a brick. I mean, I doubt that would actually _work_ , but at least you didn't try." And that, boys and girls, was why she worried about taking the pair of them to Dublin. Should someone come at them with half a brick or any other improvised weapon, the 'someone' would wind up in a world of hurt. Arrogant as it sounded, if Lorna didn't stand a chance against one of them, it was unlikely anyone else would, either - and moreover, would have no idea what they were up against. And if someone tried to pull some shite with Earlene...well, Lorna didn't even want to think of it. So long as they were out of the city before the pubs were emptying out, she'd be less worried.

She _had_ hit Liam, though, several times, but always when he was waking her from a nightmare, and yeah, she'd felt like crap herself, too. He'd always told her it wasn't her fault, that she literally had no idea who he was, and while he was right...still. That it should happen at all, no matter who she thought he was, made her cringe. But she had a suspicion, one she didn't want to voice, mostly because she was pretty sure she didn't need to: Earlene had to have got so furious with Thranduil over 9/11. Hell, he'd outright said her state of mind was his fault, but Lorna had never wanted to pry, because even she had some personal boundaries. That...yeah, that was something that would warrant getting violently, crazly angry over, without a second thought. And this Fëanor...how were the elves not giant, walking balls of neuroses? Or were they, and were just incredibly good at hiding it?

Earlene laughed softly. "Well, I'm still ashamed, but, given that I broke my hand doing it while I didn't hurt him in the least…" she sighed and shook her head. "And no bricks were involved. Honestly, the only time I've ever gone after someone was Sean, at the party. It's not that I'm incapable of getting that mad. And the other time, the time I was grabbed outside the pub...I never had a chance to do anything. I didn't have to; the necklace did worse than anything I could have managed. I never did know, what happened to that man," she said, as she caught the look of wary confusion on Lorna's face. "In all the fun, maybe no one ever explained this?" asked Earlene, tilting her head and pointing at the glinting diamonds around her neck. Seeing Lorna shake her head No, she sighed. _Well, as long as it's TMI day,_ she thought.

"I'd not heard'v that at all," Lorna said. "I'd only thought there was Sean." What was this necklace? She'd thought it just a very pretty gift; she hadn't realized it had anything to do with Earlene's protection - Ian had said that it _meant_ she was protected, but not exactly by _what_.

"Before the night I met you, I'd been to the pub one other time. My first night there. I'd had a grand time, all the lads were in there and I had a wonderful hour or so talking to them. Went outside to unlock my bicycle to ride home, and since I wasn't in New York, I'd totally dropped my guard. Next thing I know this man came out of nowhere, and had a hold of my arm. He was big, much stronger than me; he'd gotten enough of a grip to leave a huge purple bruise. Before I could think, scream, fight, anything, it was like all the light was leaving his eyes; he dropped like a stone. I honestly thought he was dead. Then the lads came out, saw him. All I could think was that I didn't want them to believe I'd just killed a man, but Ian just took it in stride. He said in so many words, 'he's not local, go home, we'll take care of this.' And I never knew anything more about it. I didn't get a huge explanation later, but Thranduil made it clear that this...does something, to anyone who would lay a hand on me. He said it didn't kill the man, but he wasn't conscious either. I think I have to be in some kind of proximity to Thranduil for it to work; he said it confers his protection." She snorted. "You know, just in case all of this isn't already weird enough for you...but I can't say I minded."

Lorna was troubled. _Deeply_ troubled. What the hell would happen if someone made a grab for Earlene in Dublin, in even a semi-public place? Hell, what did the necklace - and hell, that was a whole other can of worms - decide was too much danger? Or would it...take some kind of holiday, if Thranduil himself was around? Because if it decided to zap some arsehole in an alley, she'd have a hell of a time trying to explain it away. While it was unlikely anyone would try anything, given Earlene would be in a group, one never knew. Just...how did it _work_? She was fully aware there was one hell of a lot she didn't know, but in this, it seemed Earlene didn't know much either. Thus far, Lorna had make a policy not to ask questions that weren't her business, but in this case, there was information she felt she needed to know before they went out into the world. While Thranduil might tell her to sod off, she was asking anyway, first chance she got. "Did he say anything else about it?" she asked.

Earlene's forehead furrowed. "He told me it is called the Necklace of Lasg'len; it isn't just any old piece of jewelry. It was made by dwarves, and is a family heirloom. The metal on it, it isn't white gold or platinum, but mithril; some priceless element of their ancient world that now isn't to be had any longer; it's harder than the diamonds. And...now that I think of it, I think his exact words were that 'to touch me with harmful intent carries a high price.' If you're asking how it works, I cannot exactly tell you. The only other thing is…" she paused, and looked at Lorna. "I'm trusting you to not be weirded out. It doesn't take a genie to realize that you would not want to be stuck with many of the things to which I have agreed, and that's ok, that we're different. But I'd hate to feel like that divide between us is so big that I have to be afraid of what I can say to you. I don't need you to agree with or even like all of my choices, but I do need to feel like I can be honest without sending you running screaming the other way." She heaved another sigh. "I am under a command not to remove or even try to remove the necklace. Only Thranduil can take it off me, or put it on. Other than that, there is nothing else I can tell you, though he might explain more."

Truth be told, Lorna _was_ weirded out a bit, but not too much; by now she knew Earlene enough to know she hadn't signed on for this for the wrong reasons. "I'll be honest with you," she said, "sometimes it does make me a bit uncomfortable, but I'm getting used to it, because you really _aren't_ me, and this isn't the kind'v situation I'd be afraid'v, if Thranduil was human. I've still got my gut reactions, but I...know better?" she offered, uncertain how to phrase it. "I mean, I get - really get, now - that you haven't got a problem with the whole...you know," she gave a vague wave. "I need to stop looking at things through my own experience, and I'm starting to...sort'v. It's not easy. What'd send me screaming the other way doesn't bother you, and if you're not bothered by it, why should I be? So long as you're happy, that's what counts. Though...you sleep in it?" she asked. "I'd think that'd be bloody uncomfortable." It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, but she'd think it would leave...indents, or whatever, and it couldn't be comfortable to shower in, either.

What remained difficult for her, though she was working on it, was the whole 'command' thing. Inevitably, all her life, as soon as someone told her to do something, she'd gone out and done the opposite, just to be a little shit. She really did only have her own experience to go by, and learning - truly learning - that not everyone had her issues was taking some work. Which, she'd spent thirty-nine years with her issues, and she'd known Earlene and Company for what, a fortnight?It would come, with time. Earlene was a smart woman, and she wasn't cowed; that was what counted. (Although Lorna wasn't sure she would ever get used to the 'my lords' and 'my kings', simply because she was Irish and there was just too much history there; she got around it by pretending she didn't hear it.) Earlene seemed entirely fine with calling Thranduil 'my king', so there was nothing wrong with it. It wasn't like he was forcing her. It grated on Lorna's twenty-first century Irish ear, but so what? She wasn't the one affected. What had surprised her immensely was finding that, in a few ways, she was actually quite narrow-minded - but then, these were situations she'd never found herself in before, and couldn't have had any way of predicting. And Ireland had such a centuries-old hatred of monarchy that her initial thoughts really weren't any surprise.

Earlene chuckled. "Well, since we're having honesty hour-and thank you, for what you said; I haven't made tons of friends in my life, but even I've managed to figure out that a friend to whom you can't really speak your honest mind is really only an acquaintance. But anyway. Yes, I sleep in it, and it only rarely digs in. I seem to recall that trying to wedge myself against the bathtub was an issue." Her voice dropped by a few notes. "When this was first placed on me, I resented it and liked it all at the same time. It felt like a very beautiful dog collar. But that was before I understood anything about it. Now, it reminds me of Thranduil. Maybe everyone isn't this sappy but, I love him. And when he's not near me, it feels like he is, because of this." Her hand laid over the jewels. "Now, I actually start to come slightly unglued when he takes it off. How things change," she said, shaking her head. "Love is strange."

Lorna's romantic experience was so severely limited that she couldn't quite comprehend that. The words 'dog collar' sent a rather unpleasant shiver through her, though that one wasn't actually based on her own experience, but that of a friend. Part - a very large part - of why she'd initially been so skeeved out by some aspects of Earlene and Thranduil's relationship was that she'd known a woman who'd been in a supposed S&M relationship that was in reality completely abusive - complete with actual dog collar. Seeing that this was not the case had taken a bit at first, because she had no other frame of reference. "It really is," she said. "Sometimes it takes a few years, like Liam and I, but Mairead only knew Kevin a month before they'd fallen for each other. They've been together close to twenty years now. I think, when you meet the right one, you just...know. Maybe not right off, but it's like something in them calls to you, you know?"

"Ohhhh yes. Um, it's more than you might imagine." In spite of what had just been said between them, Earlene once again weighed the wisdom of what she was about to say to Lorna but decided to continue her disclosures. "Were you told yet, that the decision to be intimate with an elf can't be undone? It's more than being in love. He and I are literally incapable of turning aside to other partners, physically or emotionally. It is difficult to explain but...an unbreakable bond forms. Our first time, I could literally feel something move through my mind and body, tying me to him. And while I have not been with a human man, I'm pretty sure this is not what happens. It is apparently an aspect of elven marriage. I was told what would happen, warned, before we...but I hadn't truly understood. How could I? There is no frame of reference among us for this. But like with everything else, I now wouldn't trade it for anything."

Lorna turned that one over in her mind. "I think...maybe I can," she said. "Imagine, I mean. Liam and I, there wasn't anything actually binding us but each other, but neither'v us ever would've turned to anyone else. There were other people I found nice to look at, but it was...abstract? I didn't have any desire to actually do anything, or even think of them as, y'know, sexual beings. Liam was it, right up until I saw Ratiri. He's the first bloke I've been attracted to since Liam."

She laughed a little. "Liam's and my first time...it was my first time ever, and he didn't exactly have much experience, so the earth didn't precisely move. There was a lot'v laughter and we got the condom wrong at first, but later...I'll not understand how different it would be with an elf, but I'm not sure it's as different as we might think. When you love someone, it's like nothing else matters, and you really wouldn't give it up for anything." She paused. "And Liam had a really fantastic arse. I mean, _really_ fantastic. We were roadies for Judas Priest for a while, and he had these leather trousers...brilliant, it was." The memory made her burst out laughing, actually, because at one point he'd got stuck in them, and been highly embarrassed when she'd had to literally peel them off him - before they'd started any kind of relationship.

Earlene began giggling uncontrollably. "Sure god, you've no idea how good it feels to hear I'm not the only one with stories to tell. Judas Priest? Thranduil was my first. I guess you could say that my job didn't leave me with a lot of room for relationships. It wasn't that I didn't want someone, I just never blundered into that person. Maybe I was far too easy to seduce," she said ruefully, "but when you're almost forty before anyone even tries…" she shrugged. "I'm not going to feel apologetic about it. I know he isn't your type but to me Thranduil is perfect. Beautiful, like no one I could ever imagine. And what he can do…" her cheeks began to turn red. "Okay, I do not need to turn into a complete tell-all here, I'm sorry." She laughed again. "Though I don't feel drunk any longer, I wonder what the hell was in that wine. Sure seems to have loosened my tongue," she giggled again.

Lorna laughed. "You want to talk about 'blundered'...Liam and I shared a parole officer. We kept meeting up our first year, then, once our parole was up, we went to England and went touring, just as friends first. I'm not even exactly sure when it turned into more - one day, just did. And Judas Priest...that's how I learned to play guitar, actually. How and when. It was way too fun, even if half the time we were slogging around in mud."

She shook her head, leaning back on the sofa. "Earlene, does it make me shallow, that I don't think Thranduil and Thanadir are attractive, y'know, like _that_? I mean, objectively they're both lovely, but they don't do a bloody thing for me - does that mean I'm shallow? I think it means I'm shallow, and I'm worried Ratiri might be the same way. I don't look like you, or like Siobhan, though God knows my hair's got better." She picked up her braid, running her fingers over it. It was certainly better than nothing.

"Shallow? No. Physical attraction is incredibly...specific, I think. In general, dark-skinned men have never done it for me; though I will allow that in the same way, Ratiri that you met strikes me as very handsome in an artistic kind of way. I had to turn shades of red a few days back, explaining mortal women to Thanadir. We've become closer than I'd expected to be. I somehow found the guts to tell him that were I not bound to Thranduil, I would find him incredibly appealing. It's obvious to me that I think most elves are desirable. Or I would, if I were capable of feeling that way toward another of them. It's like you said, no one but Thranduil will ever do anything for me. But back to Ratiri...I don't know him, but I've made my living in part by being exceedingly good at reading the body language and mannerisms of others. That man found you attractive. He radiated it, actually. While I cannot read minds like my husband can, that was plain enough. You do know that you are very pretty, right? You have a face and body that is positively elfin. And your eyes, Jesus. You look like you flew out of the pages of a book about fae. I look like a damn lawyer. I know that I'm a certain kind of attractive. But that's the thing; we're all a certain kind of attractive. It just depends on who the one is that's looking."

"It's obvious to Siobhan, too," Lorna said, trying not to laugh and failing. "While I don't know that she actually shocked Thranduil, she did surprise him a bit. Woman's a right pervert, and apparently she's even worse inside her head." She couldn't help but smile, even as she swirled her tea in her mug. "Did he? I'm such shit at talking to men, but he was pretty bad with me, too, so at least neither'v us was better than the other. I'd wondered how a man like that could be so crap at talking to a woman, but I think he's like me - I think he lost his first, and that was that, for ages."

She looked up at Earlene. "Elfin?" she asked. "That's bit ironic, given...well, everything." It was not, to her knowledge, a word anyone had ever applied to her in the history of ever, but she'd take it. It certainly beat 'scrawny' any day of the week. "You don't look like a damn lawyer, though - well, unless you're in your suit, but then that's entirely the point. You wear all these elf clothes like you were born to; Christ, I'd half suspect you were an elf myself sometimes, if I didn't know better. You...sometimes you _move_ like them, too, you know? Usually when I see you in the halls, so maybe I'm off my nut, but I don't think I am." Had Thranduil noticed that? He had to have.

 _Really?_ Earlene had no idea. Though, there was no doubt that in her heart, she felt like she belonged with and to the elves, to a depth she wouldn't have believed possible. "And here I thought it was just because of Thanadir's skills as a tailor," she joked, looking down. But there was no doubt that the words were said with honesty. _Honesty_...that reminded her.

"Lorna, I remembered something I'd meant to tell you, about Thanadir. Please don't hate me for saying all this. The thing in the pub in Baile, with your niece? It was a valiant rescue attempt, and you had no way of knowing this, but elves don't lie. Especially Thanadir. If I hadn't gotten him out the door when I did, you would have seen the full force of the King's Seneschal. He may have the pitiful puppy dog look much of the time, but trust me, that is not who he is. There is a lion behind that façade, with fairly firm views on what is acceptable and what isn't. I had a long talk with him explaining why you lied to try and get rid of Niamh; he understood and isn't upset at all. I loaned him my da's wedding ring, to stave off problems in future. But I think if it comes up again, we should just say he's 'not available' if asked, and no more. I also spent two hours, teaching him how to recognize how people act and practicing how to politely and not-so-politely turn down being hit on by both women and men. If it happens again, he's prepared. He may not look it, but he is more than capable of asserting himself."

"Oh Christ," Lorna said, wincing, "That would have ended...so, so badly. Not violently or anything, but...ugly." Seriously, the thought made her shudder. The people of Baile were a good lot, but if they saw what they would assume was an outsider giving shite to a local, there would have been Words. Rather nasty words, many containing four letters. She wished she was a better liar, that she could have put Niamh off without making a total hash of things. "But - the elves, they're pretending to be humans. That's a pretty major lie." Were the elves massive rules-lawyers?

Earlene looked at her with a rather intent expression. "Good grief, I never thought of that angle. Some lawyer I am. I wonder how they would respond to that observation?"

At that exact moment the door opened, and Thranduil entered, smiling. "I hope I have allowed you sufficient time for 'human things'?" he teased.

Both women's eyes rolled, but Earlene was first to retort. "I thought we did pretty good, having a private conversation about personal topics knowing you hear everything we say. For a human, that takes a lot, I hope you realize."

Thranduil looked at both of them with affection and humor. "I do," he said softly. "Do not ever believe that you are both other than very much appreciated," he said with a raw sincerity that was almost embarrassing to hear.

Using the lull to change the subject, Earlene pressed on, with a tone of respect included in her question. "I wondered if you would be willing to answer Lorna's remark? How do you reconcile not lying with a rather strong need for a certain kind of deception?"

The humor fell away from his face, and he sat down in the chair opposite them, slumping just a little. His long legs stretched out in front of him, almost clear under the coffee table as he picked aimlessly at a button on his tunic. "Ah, that," he said with chagrin. "I think the topic might be better understood if the words were changed a little. No exact law or requirement hangs over our heads for this; it isn't as though one goes to elven prison for speaking a lie. But as with many things, it is deep in our hearts to choose to be truthful. You must understand that ages ago, our world was undone by two who lied and deceived first the elves, and then men; Morgoth and his slave Mairon. The bitter fruits of that era made a lasting impression on the consciousness of all of us, as a race. So it might be better to say, Earlene, that elves strongly prefer not to lie. You of all people are aware that I have employed deception when I felt that there was a great need; and there were consequences for my choices. Does that clarify?" As he concluded, he looked on with a smile, seeing the stack of instructional materials in front of Lorna. Feeling mischievous, he picked up a pencil and a notepad.

Earlene nodded. "It is my mistake. I did not clearly understand this nuance, and a conversation I had with Thanadir gave me the impression that it was far more of an absolute rule. I must remember to be careful; his English has improved so very much I forget that I should ask discerning questions."

"No harm is done," he said kindly, handing the notepad to Lorna. "I see that you have the chart of our letters. Can you work out what this says?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Smiling, Earlene glanced at the word. Their character for "L" was among the most distinctive and easy to remember; she did not need to think about the three consonants to realize what he would have written. Though, she was still jealous of his handwriting; her own script still looked, in her eyes, like a second grader's attempt at art class.

Lorna really, really wished she could have stopped the utter dread that stabbed through her. _Shit, shit, abort, abort!_ She'd have a hell of a time even if the letters were in the Roman alphabet. She scanned the chart, hoping like hell it would just...jump out at her, but no such luck. _Wait...was that -? Probably not._ _Fuck_. Anger stirred in her, mostly at herself: she'd been so certain she'd be able to wrangle this on her own, where nobody would actually know just how bad this was.

Thranduil's face betrayed no outward reaction as he spoke silently to his wife. _Earlene, do not respond in any manner to what I am about to say aloud_. "Lorna, forgive me. I did not realize that you have a time constraint this afternoon, I did not mean to hold you up with my silly word games. We will see you tomorrow, to go to Dublin? May I ask what time we are to be ready?" His gaze was calm and level.

It was odd, just how relieved and unhappy she could be all at once; relieved, that Thranduil had given her an out, but unhappy that he'd worked this out in the first place. Elves probably had no idea what the hell dyslexia even was; shit, even a lot of humans didn't understand it. "I'll come by at around ten," she said. "That will put us in Dublin at around noon. If all goes even half-ass to plan, we should be on our way home by three." She doubted the doctor's appointment would take that long, and Niamh wouldn't hold them up. "We can pick up some take-away from a pub for the way back. Mick won't mind if we eat in his van so long as we don't leave a mess." Unfortunately, she was entirely certain Thranduil wasn't going to let this...this, go, but at least she didn't have to deal with it right now. _Thank you_ , she said. _You can - you can tell Earlene, if you feel like it. Just...once I'm gone. She can explain it loads better than I could._

As Lorna walked to the front door, the words came clearly into her mind; _You are correct, mellonenin, which means, my friend. With this difficulty too, I can help you, when you are ready. It is not your fault, Lorna. Good luck, for now._ The tone faded out with the sound of a smile, if such a thing was possible.

She'd trusted Thranduil this far, and he'd never let her down; he did not, she knew, judge her, which was more than she could say of a lot of people. She trusted Earlene with it, too, but couldn't actually admit it to her face. _Good luck to you, too,_ she said, a slightly bastardized farewell. _I'll be out in the morning._ Papers in hand, she headed out toward the edge of the forest, determined to spend some time studying on her own, so she wouldn't have _that_ embarrassing problem again.

She noticed the mail in the box, halfway to spilling out. Though she didn't want to pry, she couldn't help but notice the letter on the top had a U.S. postage stamp. Probably something from Earlene's work. _Hey Thranduil, the post's here. I've stuck it back into the box. Something on top Earlene might want to see - it's from the States._

Once Lorna had been gone for the better part of a minute, Earlene looked up in amusement. _That would be one of those 'necessary deceptions?'_ She smirked.

His eyebrows arched at her. _Yes. Surely I have made no secret of being far more inclined to deception that my beautiful and morally stalwart seneschal?_ His eyes sparkled like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar by a parent with no intention of offering discipline.

"You have not," she said with humor. "I have always assumed it somehow went with the crown. And I am hoping I may speak aloud?"

His head dipped in a nod.

"Would you like tea?"

His head shook from side to side, his eyes never leaving hers.

"May we have a conversation that will have greater complexity than Yes or No answers?"

Again, a nod, though this time he could not repress a grin, chuckling at her mock exasperation. "Give me just a moment, meluieg," he said, rising and inexplicably walking out the front door. Earlene hurriedly gathered her Sindarin materials and returned them to the shelf, lest anyone get the incorrect idea that she was eager to study just now.

Her husband returned swiftly, handing her a stack of mail, though he could not resist riffling through it in fascination; he had not seen much of this 'mail' before.

Earlene looked through the stack and immediately froze when she saw the letter from America. Thranduil noticed that she went slightly pale.

"Meluieg, what is wrong?" he said, moving at once to her side and seating himself. He placed his arm around her in concern.

Her chest felt tight in spite of herself. "This is from my brother. From Aidan," she whispered. _How in the ever-loving fuck could this come today? Why today, after everything that just happened? Didn't she deserve just twenty-four hours to enjoy feeling free of everything he'd ever said to her? Shit._ As much as part of her wanted to toss it in the wood stove, she knew she couldn't. The asshole was still family. _Maybe._ Delicately, she slipped her finger under the edge of the flap and worked it open, after she noted the postmark. It was dated back in February; this letter had been forwarded more than once. Not a surprise; he was not even thought of, in terms of who she'd notified as to her departure.

She pulled it out, it was a Valentine's card, which immediately generated a noise of disgust. It appeared to be one of the sort that came with solicitations for donations to charitable organizations; unsurprisingly, no discernible care had gone into its selection.

"Earlene," she read aloud, unsure if her husband's talents extended to reading a physician's cursive handwriting. "It has been a very long time." _You bet your goddamn arse it has, Aidan._ "I am sorry, for what happened that Christmas." _But not sorry enough that you could apologize sooner than thirteen fucking years later._ "My life has changed, though still in practice. I have a daughter now, born this last Christmas. I named her Alannah, after Gran. She has dark hair and eyes, like you." Earlene's suspicious nature immediately went on alert. _No mention of a wife, no photo._ "I want you to meet her. I tried to look you up in the City, and was told you'd moved abroad. I hope this reaches you. My contact information is below. I know that things haven't been the best between us but we are still family, Earlene. -Aidan" _This reeks like a fishmonger's cart_ , she thought.

Placing the card on the table, she turned to Thranduil, to seek the comfort of his arms. _I had been about to ask you if we could talk about what I've been feeling recently, and how you would feel about my returning to New York for a short visit. I took it for granted that if you didn't outright overhear the conversation, that Thanadir would have talked to you about what I told him some days ago. That discussion just got tied in a knot._

His hand stroked the back of her head. _I heard. I have been waiting, meluieg, for whatever was held inside of you to have a chance to make itself known. And today, it did. And I can see, though I will ask to hear it from you to ensure I understand, that you are asking me both as your King and your husband, if I would allow you to briefly leave, to return to New York for a short time in order to explore your emotions?_

She nodded. _That would sum it up. I feel a desire to visit places I thought I did not need to see again, meet up with colleagues I have left behind. I do not fully understand this myself, but what you have healed within me has left me different. Becoming yours has also caused change. As has everything that has happened to me in this life which I never could have expected. I understand in a way I did not, before, how much I was hiding from myself, how much I imposed rules and order on myself to form an identity. It is all falling away now, and…_ she sighed, unable to finish.

 _And you feel as though you are no longer certain who Earlene is?_

Another nod. "And now this," she said, gesturing at the letter. "I've no idea what this is about, but every instinct I have tells me that this is far more than what is said here, and that it does not necessarily mean anything good for me."

His arms wrapped around her, and pulled her to him. "As your King, Earlene, my answer must be No."

A knot formed in her stomach, but began to ebb quickly. She had stopped resisting her circumstances weeks ago, and if this was her King's decision, so be it.

"You misunderstand me, meluieg. What I cannot allow is for you to go alone. You are my wife, and my queen. But...this brings me to a related topic. I know it is no secret to you that Lorna and I communicate a great deal. Her thoughts are so different than yours, and I learn. It disturbed her considerably, that Thanadir or I guard you at all times, by one means or another. She felt that it was intolerable, demeaning, and a range of other undesirable attributes. I was very much interested at the strength of her feelings, when I have felt no such objections from you. The only thing I have ever sensed from you is that it was something about which you would rather hide from your fellow humans because you knew they would not approve. I explained my reasons to Lorna, and to her credit she listened. But I also promised her that I would discuss this with you, and take your opinions into consideration."

Earlene blinked at this onslaught. Well, she'd known they talked, yes, though it was slightly weird to realize that she was the subject of some of those conversations. _Erm…_ she reached up and held onto his forearms.

"Is there a question contained in here?" she asked, not understanding what was wanted. His observations were correct but…? "Are you asking me if I really feel differently than I feel?" That was terrible phrasing, but at the moment she was at a loss to do better.

"Yes."

"You want to know if I want more freedom, less oversight, than what you have decreed for me?"

"Yes."

She filled her lungs to capacity before allowing all the air to escape in a sigh. "The problem is, the answer to your question is Yes, No, and I Don't Know, all at once. This is a difficult thing to explain, please be patient. I vowed to obey your laws and commands, when I swore fealty to you. Strictly speaking, those words leave no room for discussion. If you tell me I must do something, I must; otherwise I break my vow. I knew this when I spoke the words. When I first arrived I did not envision wanting to go anywhere or do anything; I came here to quietly live alone, not being aware of just how impossible that was going to be. I had no way to know that I would fall into something extraordinary and outside of human understanding. Being guarded and monitored is not something usual, to modern humans, though it is not absolutely unheard of. As a modern woman, I am not supposed to want anything like this; I am supposed to want freedom and independence and self-determination. Yet I gave those things away to you, with almost no resistance. If I had to say why I did this, it would be that something in you called to me. You gave me a chance to fully cross into your world, and I accepted the cost of doing so. I also know that even had I waited and taken longer to consider, the outcome would have been the same. You and Thanadir feel more like family to me than any family I ever had. Maybe because of this, I do not mind being guarded. Were I guarded by different elves, I might feel differently; I cannot say. There are times when I would like to be alone more than I am, at home or in your Halls. And it does feel strange to have to ask to go somewhere when previously I just went; no human adult would choose this. But, I feel safe with elves. I like being with you and Thanadir because you know how to be quiet. You allow me to feel like I am alone, even when I am not. I looked out for myself all my life, and now I don't have to any longer. And either way I have no choice, so it is hard to know why I am even thinking about it." She looked down, and spoke with softer words. "You told me, the day I struck you, that I would learn that the only freedom I have is in having no choices, that I would learn to accept my position. Your words seemed cruel then, but, I believe that I have learned. It took time to understand, it is no different than for Thanadir. I have seen that your word is law to him as well; he surrendered the same rights and freedoms, and does not suffer in his service to you."

Thranduil listened carefully, trying to sift her words and her emotions. "What I am hearing is that you are almost wholly content to be under my authority, having accepted that your happiness has taken another form. But that there are still times, and I believe I saw one just a moment ago, when you yet wish you could do as you pleased. It is easy to keep your vows when you are isolated with the elves, but harder when confronted with the customs of the human world. And that you would like to have more time in which to enjoy a sense of solitude."

"Yes."

He rocked her gently while he held her, considering. "The last one, I can grant easily. I can see in your thoughts that you were used to having a great deal of time alone, and that coming here has reversed that, and it is not your preference. But that even now, you are uncertain how much time you wish."

Earlene chuckled even as she nodded again.

"The other...meluieg, I wish you to know that I do not think you incapable. I know that you lived your entire life without incident in a vast and complex city of men; that you understood how to avoid danger and that you even had some means at your disposal to protect yourself. But as I tried to explain to Lorna, you are mine now; my responsibility and under my care. Were anything to happen to you, even through no fault of yours or mine, I could not bear it. If you feel that you must return home, we will go as a family. I realize that there are papers and requirements and obstacles, but unless I am much mistaken those will soon be behind us. If you wish, we could even invite Lorna. And as your husband...you will not be meeting with your brother alone. He has done enough damage and I will not allow him to do more. Not to mention, I will not miss an opportunity to see his heart and understand what on earth is wrong with him."

"I intend to go a little farther than that. With your consent, I will contact him. I will also have him investigated; I have connections. I do not believe for a moment that this visit is about any real desire to repair our relationship. And Thranduil...I fear it may be a great deal worse than that. That he mentioned a child, did not mention a wife or a mother, and out of the blue writes that he wants me to meet my niece?...something is very wrong. And while I do not wish to jump to conclusions, this is Aidan."

"You fear on some level that this is an attempt to coerce you into taking his child?"

"Actually, yes, I do. He never made a secret about not desiring children. He wanted a wife, partner, however you wish to call it, but made it clear on more than one occasion that he never wanted to be a father. Though, people can and do change their minds on that as they go through life. I may be one hundred percent wrong, but I intend to go into this meeting fully researched for every possibility at which I can guess. Because again, this is Aidan."

"And if your guess is correct?"

Earlene snorted. "Then we would both need to answer the question of how we felt about undertaking twenty years' responsibility and beyond for raising a child that is not ours. A fully human child, in the midst of an elven realm. At a time when I have not even been able to determine if I want you to give me a child of our own," she trailed off.

He tilted his head. "You feel that one thing might trigger another, so to speak?"

"It would not be outside the range of potential emotional responses to such a situation."

Turning her, he effortlessly adjusted her in his arms so that they could face each other. "There is much yet to know before any conclusions can be drawn. It may be that you are incorrect, and that the letter asks no more than what it says. I think that we should keep this possibility private between us, for now. If Lorna and Thanadir need to know, the time will come. Just as I do not share her private matters with you, the same is true in reverse; she knows nothing of your past with your brother. But I will break one small confidence to tell you that Lorna was pregnant once, and lost the baby in a tragedy. It devastated her, and I hope that she will tell you in her own time. I tell you now so that you can understand that for her, anything about this subject would be volatile, intensely emotional."

Earlene's eyebrows raised. "She lost that baby when she lost her husband, didn't she?...don't answer that. That poor woman." Earlene shook her head. "I will be honest, Thranduil. When I think on children, I vacillate. There are times I think about carrying your child, raising a young one with you, and it fills my heart. To know the experience of carrying something that is yours, in my body. Of seeing your happiness, and having the joys of watching my son or daughter grow. Then there are other times when I look at how full my days are now and I wonder how it could even be possible, or where the time would come from."

"Our days will not always be this unsettled, Earlene." He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Right now there is much to be done. Gardens, appointments, papers, learning languages and culture, finances, establishing identities. Sooner than you think, this will be behind us, and we will be far more occupied with living our lives. Enjoying our lives. I am not unaware, that you have struggled with what you would call a 'lack of peace and quiet.' While I obviously cannot promise that you will have the life here you once envisioned, I can tell you that something far closer to it will arrive in time."

Thranduil reached now and hugged her to him, feeling his heart swell with joy. It appeared very, very likely that he would father another child. Earlene only needed a little more time, to see the leanings of her heart for what they were.


	27. Chapter 27

Lorna, that night, had the bright idea of slowly poring through the alphabet, then labeling it with the Cyrillic equivalent. For whatever reason, she found the Cyrillic alphabet much easier than the Roman, so, slowly and laboriously, she made notes on her chart. It probably wouldn't help, but she had to try.

She sat up far later than she ought to have, on Mick's rather uncomfortable couch, drinking extra water so she wouldn't wake up with a killer morning-after. Eventually she slept like the dead, notes stacked as neatly as she could on the coffee-table.

The next morning, once she'd showered and wrung out her hair (seriously, thank God for that elf shampoo; she'd swear it helped her hair dry faster), she eyed what wardrobe she'd brought with her. She didn't own a single thing that could be called professional by anyone, but she had a green-and-black-checked flannel that was actually ironed, and with her newer pair of jeans, it wasn't too bad. She wasn't worried about Niamh - who did, after all, know her - but she didn't want to give the doctor any chance to look at them weird. She'd ordered a few things off Amazon the other night, but they wouldn't be here for probably another four days at least. Oh well.

"You're taking that lot to Dublin?" Mick asked, more than a bit dubiously.

"God help me, I am," she said, lacing up her boots. "It shouldn't be too bad, knock wood. Just two stops." She hadn't told him exactly what she'd been setting up for all of them, and Mick, bless him, hadn't asked. Doctor, Niamh, pub food, home. She wasn't looking forward to the drive itself - and she'd bet poor Thanadir wasn't, either.

Off she went, making certain the van hadn't acquired any surprises since she drove it last, and headed out to Earlene's. Sooner or later, once she was alone, she'd have to do donuts somewhere, just to get all her pent-up driving energy out of her system.

Earlene had decided that the ellyn's clothing was a no-go after their last trip, and had gone shopping in the village's secondhand store. She insisted that they learn to wear printed t-shirts, because in her estimation, blending in and not having anything about them attract the eye was important. Because of course, strikingly beautiful men over six feet tall with hair that fell below their shoulder blades weren't going to stand out one little bit. For her own outfit, she dressed down substantially; no suits today. There was no need to play "prestige battles" with Niamh, whoever she was; she was just damn grateful for the woman's help (whatever the shady nature of it). Her life wasn't allowing her to consider being a lawyer here too, nor did she want to be. However, it had occurred to her that she could drop one thing in this woman's lap that might have value; the promise of shared favors. Earlene might be no one here, but she was most definitely _someone_ in one of the biggest cities in the world. And she had her own set of connections and ways to make things happen; Niamh knew the game just as well as she did and Earlene had quite a lot of game to offer. Discreetly, of course. And who knows, it just might save the elves a little cash. So, jeans and a plain tee with a partially buttoned blouse over it. And a cleverly arranged scarf that allowed as much or as little of the necklace to show as she wished. There were moments it was beneficial to scream Wealth; other times, not so much.

Before long, the van could be heard in the driveway, and Earlene still felt indecisive about the elves' hair. Loose? Masculine ponytail? She huffed, and grabbed two plain black elastic bands, cramming them in her pocket. Her purse, such as it was, was a very small backpack design meant to hold only cash, a few cards and ID, comb, lipstick and not much else. Lorna seemed to have a good sense of these things, they could figure it out on the way.

Lorna drove into the driveway and parked, hopping out. "D'you think Thanadir'll be okay for this?" she asked. Yeah, Thranduil had said he was fine, but Thranduil wasn't Thanadir, who had not spoken for himself on the matter one way or the other. They'd be in the car twice as long; if he wanted a few belts of that wine, Lorna wouldn't blame him, though she also wasn't sure what it would do to any blood tests the doctor might run...shit. Well, the poor lad was just going to have to muddle through (and she really, really needed to stop thinking of him as a lad, but it was just. So. Hard. It was the Puss in Boots eyes, dammit. If he didn't want people worrying and fussing over him, he shouldn't have been born with that face.) It was probably fortunate for everyone that he couldn't read minds without actually trying; had he been able to, he probably would have been constantly annoyed. Very annoyed.

 _Or very amused, mellonenin. My seneschal is more complex than he appears,_ Thranduil smirked. _If it is of such great importance to you, you may certainly ask him if being in the van disturbs him._

In Lorna's estimation, Thranduil had far too much resemblance to a scamp at the moment for her to fall for that suggestion. She'd ask the damn question her own way. "Thanadir, is there anything that would make you more comfortable while we drive?"

The seneschal looked at her, smiling. "The van is fine, Lorna, but thank you for asking."

Thranduil looked disappointed that she had not taken the bait, to which she barely arched one eyebrow. They all elected to keep their former seating arrangement...because.

Well, Earlene and Thranduil had said Thanadir was compulsively honest; if he said he was fine, he was fine, despite the evidence of her eyes the last trip out. "So, I was thinking'v teaching you two to drive," she said, pulling out into the village proper. "Even if you decide not to get a license, it's a good skill to have, just in case'v...whatever. The village is a good place to practice - nice and slow, without much traffic - and sure I doubt the constable'll care." The entire village seemed to know about the elves; if they wanted to learn to drive, nobody was going to stop them. (She would not, however, be teaching them on Mick's van; double-clutching was an art form, one they'd probably pick up depressingly easily once they'd got the hang of shifting in general, and she just couldn't deal with that. Feeling that level of inadequacy just wasn't on her menu.)

Earlene felt pleased that whatever seemingly gloomy thoughts had been colonizing Thanadir's mind during their last outing seemed less present (or altogether absent) today. Who knew, maybe the backseat just wasn't having a good day, before. Once they were underway, she felt that a mental checklist of sorts needed addressing. "This is mostly for Thanadir's benefit but...I wanted to talk a little about this physician appointment and what to expect. Unlike you, Thranduil, he doesn't have the benefit of our human memories of what happens. Or perhaps you have an easier way of conveying this to him? If I'm worrying over nothing please tell me; I only am trying to imagine how I'd feel in your place, having a stranger touch me and do a medical exam. Even a simple one requires contact."

Thranduil frowned. This was true, though he'd thought it wouldn't matter given that their people were not ashamed of their bodies in any manner. He sighed. "Then one at a time, would each of you think about your memories in as much detail as you are able? And while I thank you for accuracy, perhaps that detail does not need to include, ah, things unique to you as females."

Earlene erupted in laughter. "But that's the best part," she quipped. "Or not. Lorna? Who goes first?" Thanadir had that look on his face of one who is desperately trying to keep up.

Lorna, cackling herself, pulled onto the larger road headed for the motorway. "Well, a lot'v mine _was_ unique to me as a female, since I was pregnant," she said, "but there was other stuff, too. They've got a thing called a stethoscope, that they'll press to your chest and your back, to listen to your heart, and she'll probably ask you to take a few deep breaths so she can listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is always freezing, no matter how hot it is outside. I think it's just a thing. She'll have you stand on a scale to weigh you, and measure your height. What might prove more awkward is that you'll probably have to wee in a cup." That was always difficult for her, anyway, but it was a lot more awkward for a woman to try to pee in a cup than for a guy. At least guys wouldn't get it all over their bloody hands every god damn time. "Maybe blood tests, which can sting a bit - they stick a needle in your arm and take some samples. When I was in prison they did that every bloody week, because they were that afraid we'd somehow got drugs in. I finally told the doctor if they were that convinced it was happening, they needed new guards, not new needles." It was much easier to talk about...that...now, which was somewhat surprising. Her time in prison was something few even in Baile knew much about.

Earlene's eyebrows raised. This only added to her general desire to never go to prison. "Okay for me, there is also a machine that takes blood pressure. It will squeeze your arm in a cuff and make odd noises but it should not even be uncomfortable for you. They will also take your temperature...it will be a device that they put in your ear, roll over your forehead, or as you to hold under your tongue for a certain amount of time. They will also check your eyes, by shining a light into them or by asking you to track their finger with your eyes. They may ask to look inside your mouth as well. They may ask if you have health problems…..has Thanadir learned the words for parts of the insides of the body? Um, there are many words for those parts in what is sort of another language. For example, we usually say 'heart' but they say 'cardiac.' We usually say 'stomach', they say 'gastrointestinal'. They will ask if your parents had any of a number of health problems. If you don't understand probably it is easiest to say 'no, there is no problem' because you two are perfectly healthy. It is possible I'd be allowed in the room with you as a translator or...helper; if that is the case this will be easy because you two can just see my thoughts or do whatever it is you do. Lorna, can you think of anything else?"

Lorna pondered as she eased onto the motorway. "They might ask about vaccines," she said, and fought, oh so very hard, the urge to immediately run the person next to her off the road for being a gobshite. "Just say 'no', because otherwise they'll ask for details. As adults, you don't actually have to get them, though they might try to bully you into it - and with good reason, if you were human. If you'd actually been humans living out away from civilization all your lives, your immune systems would be a nightmare, but I doubt the doctor'll ask much about that - it's not her business if you wander out into Dublin and immediately catch tuberculosis and...and I dunno, malaria at the same time."

All right, the guy next to her was severely pissing her off. She needed to merge, and he simply refused to either slow down or speed up to let her do it. Gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles went white, she managed to speed up without completely slamming her foot on the gas, and if she cut him off a bit...well, it was his own damn fault. _I hope you appreciate just how difficult this is for me_ , she said. _I'm driving like my damn gran - no, Gran was more aggressive than this._ _I want to run half these bastards right off the motorway._ She did not, however, want to give Thanadir a heart attack - because while he might be fine with her driving now, he really wouldn't be if she drove like herself - and poor Earlene might well try to murder her. She had a sneaking suspicion, however, that Thranduil might actually enjoy barreling down the motorway at ninety miles an hour, weaving through cars like a pinball. He'd probably have even more fun if he was the one driving.

 _Would you like me to make you feel calmer?_ He asked with all indications of enjoying himself far too much. _Then again, you would have made a fine cavalry rider in battle. The dwarves would have adored you, Lorna._

 _For the sake of everyone inside and outside this car, that might be a good idea_ , she said, and wondered just what riding in cavalry would have entailed. Anything the elves rode would be hopelessly oversized for her, but she was willing to bet she probably wasn't a great deal taller than the average dwarf - and if they were anything at all like the films she'd seen, they shared her love food, of drinking, and occasionally of fighting. _I like the thought of riding a goat into battle_ , she added. _Or were they giant sheep? Ever since you mentioned a war-chariot, I've been very, very curious._

The gobshite behind her decided trying to pass her was a good idea, so she spend up just enough to keep him from doing it; if she couldn't drive aggressively with her passengers, passive-aggressively was the next best thing.

Thranduil reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder, and she literally felt some of the anger leaching out of her. _It would help if you would breathe deeply_ , he said. _I would hate to make you fall asleep._ Lorna had already learned that glowering at him didn't work; he just laughed harder.

 _Fine_ , she said. _Just, fine._

Earlene watched with a combination of amusement and fascination as her husband touched Lorna and the color on her tiny knuckles and hands went from white to reddish to normal. Though, a few times, flutters of nervousness were creeping up within her. Though she'd seen every antic under the sun from cabbies, it didn't mean she wanted a competition. Now fully past any insecurity of this sort with Thanadir, she once again threaded her arm through the gap near his elbow. _Elven security blanket_ , she thought ruefully. But to her surprise, the seneschal leaned down and asked her to provide more anatomical terms. And for once, Earlene was completely unaware that she was being distracted. She immediately relaxed as she tried to remember Greek and Latin roots and began to name what she could, never noticing Thanadir's mirthful smile.

Whatever mental roofie Thranduil had going on in Lorna's head, she had to admit, it made the drive a lot less aggravating than it would have been otherwise - though she did crack the window a bit, so she didn't actually fall asleep. Even when they got off the motorway at the Dublin exit, she had no wish, even in passing, to run over, stab, shoot, or kick anyone, which, given that this was the M7 to Dublin, was more than a minor miracle.

This was a good day to be visiting the city; the sun was shining, and it wasn't too windy. Unfortunately, that meant people were out in force, and she winced a little at the thought of the mental assault Thranduil was likely under right now. There were over half a million people in Dublin proper, and she still wasn't sure just what his range was; for all she knew, he was getting hit by _all_ of them. "So, Dublin's been around since the tenth century," she said, by way of whatever distraction she could bring. "That's not that long to you two, but for us, it's a very long time. There's marks'v the old city everywhere, if you know where to look." The traffic was heavier now, but Lorna felt so perilously close to outright stoned that she didn't mind at all; she was more than happy to wait for people to take their turn. They still had plenty of time to kill, even as she navigated the crowded streets. God, could she get Thranduil to bottle this and sell it to her?

 _I already fear I am violating the Prime Directive with you, Lorna. Show me some mercy and do not ask me such questions. I already will never hear the end of having offered you elven wine. If I interfere with you too much more, you might end up with pointed ears,_ he teased.

Lorna tried - and utterly failed - to choke back her laughter. _Prime Directive? But that doesn't quite work - I know you exist. And I think everyone who has to deal with me might be happier if I was more relaxed._ Certainly everyone on the road would likely appreciate it, if they knew what it was sparing them. She wondered who 'they' were, and they immediately realized she didn't have to: 'they', if the reaction to her and Earlene's wine-tasting was any indication, was probably Thanadir.

"All right, you lot," she said aloud, "I want you to take a look at that big spike up head. It's called the Spire of Dublin, and it was meant to be built for the turn of the millennium, but they didn't even start it until two thousand two." It was a huge - very huge, four hundred feet of huge - gleaming metal...spike. Not a statue, not a pillar, a spike. "It's meant to be self-cleaning, but that broke, so now there's no way to clean it. And while it's _technically_ the Spire of Dublin, you're more likely to hear it referred to as the Erection at the Intersection."

Earlene, still holding onto Thanadir, desperately hoped that he had not yet learned this word. _Did unwed elves...was it like human males…?_ she could feel herself turning pink and turned her face away from the seneschal and allowed her hair to dangle in her face, praying that Lorna would not notice or point out her flushed cheeks. Sure, with Thranduil that word was better than the welcome wagon, but…. _Thanadir, for god's sake._

Lorna's eyes darted to her left and noticed a bizarre sort of wheezing sound coming from Thranduil. She hoped she hadn't jinxed the whole thing by mentioning tuberculosis, but thought better of asking him what that noise was all about.

 _Meluieg, Thanadir does not know the sexual usage of this word. Yet. Though a male elf's penis can become erect at times, the drive to experience a climax barely exists in the absence of forming a bond to a mate. And if I may, we also do not feel shame about the normal function of our bodies. I have noticed that humans seem to have many difficulties and entire thought systems organized around everything having to do with intimacy._

 _Alright. I cannot deny that last part. Thank you, I will attempt to behave like an enlightened adult. So why do I still feel like I am in high school back here?_

 _I believe you already answered that question, meluieg. It is Thanadir._

 _My life used to be normal_ , she thought. _Normal._

 _So did mine._

With a small groan, she shifted back in the other direction and leaned her head against Thanadir's shoulder, determined that somehow, this day was ending with at least two pints of Guinness.

The miracle of iPhones was the GPS function; it allowed Lorna to find their destination without too much stress - though seriously, she wasn't stressed at all right now, and it was _brilliant_.

They found themselves in front of a rather nondescript building on a side street, faced with a plain metal door and a single window in the brick wall. Whoever this doctor was, she probably wasn't open to general practice. What the hell had Niamh found?

"All right," she said, looking at the elves, "you let Earlene and I do the talking at first, okay? I've got to feel out this doctor before we do anything else." She'd almost said feel _up...that's what she said_ , she sighed to herself. Opening the door, she stepped inside.

It was warm, but not too warm, and though the surroundings were very plain - pale tile floor, white walls, speckled ceiling tiles - they were all very clean, and though they didn't look new, they didn't look old, either. There was nobody else inside, and no nurse at the intake window, but the tinkling bell above the door brought out a woman Lorna assumed was the doctor.

Her age was hard to determine; she could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, on the tall side of average, with dark hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Her face seemed open enough, though, and fortunately not unduly curious.

"Hi," Lorna said. "I'm Lorna, I talked to you this morning. Niamh said you were good at getting people in at short notice."

"I am," the woman said briskly, eying the elves. There was something in her expression disturbingly reminiscent of a butcher sizing up a few choice cuts of meat, but there wasn't anything actually _skeezy_ in it. More like someone faced with something unexpectedly perfect, rather than 'I want in your pants'. That was _marginally_ less creepy; at least there was nothing personal in it. "These are Fionn and Cian, I presume?"

"They are," Lorna said. "They're new to doctor's offices, so Earlene and I have prepped them as best we could."

"I've no wish to be intrusive, but if it would be helpful for me to be present in the room, they're willing," offered Earlene as unconcernedly as possible. The doctor nodded with an equal lack of interest and waved all of them down the hallway. Earlene looked at Lorna quizzically, because it actually seemed like all four of them were going to be taken into the exam room. Both women shrugged at each other simultaneously. Earlene had an acquaintance once, who'd been in California and had gone in for one of their medical marijuana cards; she'd been told that if you had a pulse, you could pay the money for the appointment and walk out with your paperwork stamped and approved. It was becoming obvious that this was quite similar. Which really, was a perfect outcome.

She produced two sealed urinalysis containers and handed one to each elf. "Give a sample; there are two bathrooms across the hall. Cap the sample and leave it in the room when you are through; there is a plain white basket clearly marked near each toilet."

Earlene imagined very clearly for Thranduil what he was to do, and hoped that he could somehow pass that along to Thanadir, no pun intended. In all likelihood this would be the worst part of the whole thing, since no conversation she'd ever had with him included discussing his ability to urinate on command.

Lorna, out of deference to whatever the elves might have to take off - well, deference to Thanadir; she doubted Thranduil would care - took out her iPhone, scrolling through her email. The doctor did whatever it was doctors did - out of the corner of her eye, Lorna saw her take out plastic-packaged needles, plastic vials, all the usual shite. She worked with such economy that they'd probably be out of here in relatively little time, provided nothing went wrong (and even as she thought that, she mentally knocked wood). She just hoped poor Thanadir could actually piss in a cup - he was so far out of his depth already, and she knew most humans could have, uh, _issues_ with peeing on command when visiting the doctor.

It was a great relief to Earlene when after only five minutes both of them returned to the room. And knowing them, they would not accept anything less than accomplishing their goals. She genuinely did not want to know… One at a time, the doctor examined them in a friendly and efficient manner. Earlene kept an eye on what was done without trying to be obvious. Though, unless she was much mistaken the physician had a little more than professional interest in asking them to remove their shirts in order to listen to their hearts and lungs. Honestly, she couldn't blame the poor woman, how often did something like this walk in the door. She equally hoped she could not be faulted for taking a quick glimpse at Thanadir. While not as sculpted as her husband, his form was still lithe and lovely. Besides, given that he'd seen far more of her disrobed when they first met, she felt her curiosity was slightly justified. To her great relief, when it was time to examine their ears, the otoscope simply darted to the entrance of the external auditory meatus; no attention was paid to the outer ear. It was all stunningly routine. Rote questions were asked to which she clearly thought the answers in the event they were needed, blood samples were taken and...that was it. Though it took a bit of a while to do one then the other. All in all the appointment took just about three quarters of an hour. Earlene thought of one last thing.

 _Ask Lorna if she knows if we walk out of here with signed papers or of it is something that goes back to Niamh_ , she asked.

 _She'll give us the papers_ , Lorna told Thranduil, when he asked, and indeed the woman came out of her office bearing a manila envelope.

"If you need anything else, let me know," she said, "but that should all be in order. Niamh'll know if anything's amiss."

"Thanks," Lorna said. "I mean it. It makes things a lot easier." She didn't elaborate, and the doctor didn't ask her to; money really could buy silence, Lorna reflected. (Though why in God's name was Earlene insisting that she not use any of her own money to pay for all this? Why was she getting such an obscene salary, if she wasn't meant to use some of it in line with her job? She was fairly certain they liked giving her all this stuff partly just to make her brain blue-screen.)

Out they went, into the sunshine, and she hoped the city smog wasn't getting to the elves too much. It wasn't as bad as it could be in some cities in the world - being right next to the sea kept it down - but even she noticed the difference, having lived away for eleven years... _Yes, I know I'm worrying_ , she told Thranduil, unable to smother a wry smile. _It's what I do. I would rather you two not be uncomfortable in the place where I grew up._ It was an instinct she was probably never going to succeed at fully quashing - to them, everything in the modern world was new, and she wanted them to enjoy it, if they could. There were so many things she knew they _wouldn't_ enjoy, and while she also knew they could handle anything the world had to throw at them, she didn't want them to have to deal with the nastier side of modern humanity any more than they already had...or at least, not yet. There was beauty in this world, and it was that she wanted them to see, before being confronted with too much ugliness. And a certain level of protectiveness for those she cared about was simply built into the foundation of her being. Gran had called it all her maternal urges getting frustrated and misfiring and taking vent wherever they could, whether the person they vented on needed it or not.

Both of them seemed to have come out of their exam without any real unease; for their sake, she'd continued not paying attention. Christ knew how awkward she'd feel if the situation was reversed, and Thanadir _had_ said they were accustomed to covering most of their bodies - which she figured might well mean they wouldn't even like having their shirts off in front of people who weren't, uh, _close_ enough. Maybe she was wrong, but she wasn't willing to push it when she could so easily just stare at her phone.

"All right, Niamh probably won't keep us long," she said, unlocking the doors and letting them all in. "From all I remember'v her, she's blunt as hell, but she's as efficient as they come, and she won't ask anything she doesn't feel she absolutely needs to know."

 _We are both fine, Lorna,_ Thranduil tried to reassure. _We both found it to be fairly benign. Honestly, the most difficult part was the light being shined directly into our eyes; they are more sensitive than yours to intense light sources. You must understand, we do not have the...issues, you humans do about our bodies. Any of us could stand before you nude with no qualms; for us the sight of our bodies does not have all the connections to intimate behavior that you humans seem to attach to it._

God, she hadn't thought of that - she was pretty sure elf eyes were far keener than humans, so having a light shine right into them had probably sucked. _That's a mindset I think a lot of us wish we had_ , she said. _Us, we're taught from childhood that being naked is something to be ashamed of. Even I'm not free of it entirely, for all I grew up in a warehouse with no privacy._ She couldn't actually imagine what it would be like, to not have that issue at all. _Though hang up - Thanadir told me you lot cover most of your bodies - it's why I stared at my phone in there, just, you know, to not make anyone feel any more awkward than they already were. If you've not got any bodily taboos, why such modest clothing?_ She was genuinely curious, too; it seemed an odd paradox, but then so much about the elves often did, and she'd given up trying to work them out according to human rules.

 _You have likely noticed that in our home, our surroundings are...more beautiful than they need to be, for lack of better words? That regardless of the function of a thing, it is made in a way that is lovely? Clothing for us is the same. We are modest in the sense that we do not flaunt our reproductive organs provocatively, one might say, but we cover ourselves more because it is more beautiful fabric with which we can adorn ourselves. There are baths within the Halls, used by both genders; not every dwelling in my Halls has a private bath. I suppose the rule is that we act as politely toward each other clothed as unclothed and...for obvious reasons, other races have not seen us unclothed in a very long time. How often could we have needed to bathe in sight of humans?_

Lorna gave this due consideration as she pulled out onto the main thoroughfare. Mixed-gender bathing...there were few groups out there who wouldn't find that awkward. If anyone but, oh, Mairead saw her without her togs on, she'd probably die of embarrassment - Mairead got a pass because she'd helped deal with the aftermath of Lorna's miscarriage, and she was family. Otherwise...yikes. _A lot of us bathe every day,_ she said, slowing as she approached a stop sign. _I do a lot of physical work, so if I don't bathe every day, I smell. But I'd imagine humans sweat a lot more than elves, if elves even sweat at all._ Given that they all wore leather trousers, she was betting they didn't, or they'd be perpetually uncomfortable. Liam certainly hadn't been fond of them, no matter how fantastic his arse had looked. _I think part of our problem too, though, is that most of us are insecure about our bodies. We don't want anyone looking at us and judging us, and unfortunately, that's something most humans do._ The only people she could think of who were totally content to walk around with nothing on were porn stars….oh, shit. She actually pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing like hell she hadn't thought that.

 _Under hard physical exertion, elves do sweat. We have always valued cleanliness of all kinds. As do most humans that I have seen recently. It was not always the case; a visit to a human city in ages past was more likely than not to be an unpleasant tour of truly offensive smells. You have come a very long way from chamber pots emptied through open windows, I can assure you. Tell me more about what you mean by "judging us." I do not quite understand. You all have bodies, do you not? And I will ignore whatever a 'porn star' is since I can see that it not something with which I need to occupy my thoughts."_ He grinned, while giving her a sidelong glance.

Lorna managed not to facepalm. _I'll let Earlene explain porn stars_ , she said. _Definitely her job._ She wouldn't thank Lorna for that, but that was an explanation that ought to come from his wife. She could...do whatever she felt like with it. _The invention of indoor plumbing made bathing a lot easier. Even when I lived in the warehouse, we had a tap and a curtain. And 'judging us'...what's considered attractive in western society is actually really bloody narrow, especially with women. Any of us that don't fit that ideal - which, honestly, is most of us - can feel a bit self-conscious at the thought that someone's judging us for not looking perfect. It's absolutely daft, I know, but it's so ingrained in our society that even I'm not over it, and I've normally got no shame about pretty much anything else._ Liam hadn't minded - Liam had thought her beautiful, but Liam was her husband, and spouses always found their partners lovely. Spouses weren't strangers who were judging solely on aesthetics - which was probably why people trusted their partners with that kind of vulnerability, and nobody else.

Thranduil frowned. He had never perceived this kind of thinking from Earlene. But..perhaps this topic was better laid to rest, at least for now. And speaking of topics…

 _Meluieg, did you wish to mention to Lorna about...more documents?_

Earlene cleared her throat. "Uh, Lorna, before we get to Niamh's, something else has come up. I figured it'd be best to talk about this before we make it to her office. For a number of reasons, I am looking to return to New York City, briefly, as soon as it is possible to do so, but I won't be going alone. Long story short, passports, preferably between six to eight weeks from now, are suddenly on the docket. And that includes for you too, if you are willing to travel with us. I am planning a visit that would be between five and seven days; you would have no expenses of your own. Though, you'll have the easiest time of it, you can just use the ordinary process of applying. Not sure what this will do to Niamh's brain, but better than you hear it first."

Fortunately, Lorna was focused enough that she didn't actually swerve off the road. New York? _New York?_ She'd been out of the country, sure, but Britain didn't exactly count. Crossing the Atlantic...the thought was terrifying, but it was also really intriguing. New York could swallow Dublin three times over, probably, and she'd seen pictures of it: it would probably be brilliant to actually be there. Admittedly, she ran the risk of getting stepped on, but it was a risk she was willing to take. "I'm sure she can do it," she said, taking a right. "She always was a bright one on her feet. I haven't got a valid passport anymore, so I'll have to renew it. Niamh'll work it all out, and we can just throw money at her as we go."

"That works, and I'm going to leave much of the talking to you. And, there's another thing. While I don't run in the same, ah, circles as Niamh has done here, I'm not above making it known that if she ever has a legal need across the pond...I know people who know people. I'm not in contact with underground people, per se, but rather people who are...influential. Like you, I can call in favors, now and again. Not sure what that amounts to, and I wouldn't say it to her myself because I don't want to come off like a name-dropper but...let's just say that my contacts go very high indeed. The people I know don't count their income in millions. They add zeros. And those are the kind of people that make one phone call to a mayor, to a police chief, to a congressman or woman, and suddenly something happens. Not saying I can ask for a mass murderer to be turned loose or something completely over the top, but...if it's a question of someone half-decent who just needs help because of being in a bad spot, as a one-time deal...that kind of thing. My reputation is on the squeaky clean side, rather than the other way around."

Lorna's eyebrows rose as she glanced at Earlene in the rear-view mirror. It sounded surprisingly like something that might actually be shady, in some way or another. Lorna approved. "I'll let her know," she said. "She says you can never have too many allies." Jesus fucking Christ, just how much money were they talking? How much money did _Earlene_ have? Lorna had long suspected she had quite a few zeroes behind her account, too. "And if you let her know - if I let her know - they've got that much behind them...shit, I think she'd want to put us on permanently. She's the sort you can trust, so long as she knows she can trust you, too." The thought of having connections like that...it went well beyond what Lorna had, or what Niamh would have, or - hell, than any of her cadre of Irish criminals put together. To say that the entire lot of them had rather modest origins would be a vast understatement.

"If she doesn't believe you, just tell her to look me up. My name is...known."

Lorna hadn't yet bothered to think about the human side of what she'd got herself tangled up in - which, to be fair, there hadn't been much time. The Byzantine world of American corporate law and its associated trappings was entirely beyond her.

Another left and they'd reached a quieter street, this one rather less plain than the one in which the doctor's office was located. Niamh had a window with her name on it and everything, her office professional if not precisely posh - thick cream carpet, mahogany furniture. Lorna had only ever been in it once, but it was nice without being daunting. "All right, she's not going to ask questions, but she is going to be curious as bloody hell, so Thranduil, I can't promise she's not going to speculate one hell of a lot inside her head." About their case, their circumstances, and - unfortunately - probably about the elves themselves. In less that professional ways. Lorna knew Siobhan, and her type, and she'd always had a weakness for men with long hair, even without...everything else about the elves. Hopefully she wasn't as, uh, _creative_ as Siobhan.

Thranduil chuckled so much now at seemingly random times that if Earlene didn't know the likely cause, she would suspect her husband was becoming diagnosably mentally ill. It was a modest law office lobby, and Earlene smiled. There was something about the smell of the books. The endless bound volumes of this law and that law and...on and on. It didn't matter what country it was, it was still bound volumes up one side and down the other. The slightly musty odor that wafted past her nostrils was familiar, comforting. She'd left the lot of hers back with her firm, figuring that some enterprising individual would eventually have the use of them. The place was quaint, and had the feel of an old practice. Or at least, a practice in an old office. Thanadir, for his part, seemed suitably entranced, never having seen an encyclopedic-style collection of human books before. She could practically hear his mental enjoyment of the orderliness of the neat rows of publications.

Lorna went and rapped on the inner door - Christ, it even had a nameplate - and Niamh opened it. A few years older than Lorna herself, middling height, a touch pear-shaped in a pleasant way, her hair was a shade too red to be called auburn, her eyes warm and brown. God, wasn't it weird to be seeing her looking so... _professional_. She had, after all, slept in the same warehouse Lorna had, running about in ratty clothes and stealing food from wherever they could find it. _Now_ look at her.

"You've set me some challenges, Fun Size," Niamh said, and Lorna just about wanted to die. That nickname...Mairead used it, too, god dammit. "Fortunately, I like challenges, and God knows you've given me enough money. Come on in, the lot'v you." She gestured them to follow her - fortunately, the office itself was quite large, large enough for them to all sit more-or-less comfortably. Her eyes took in all three of them, with the same sharp, measured curiosity she'd always regarded everything with. She didn't give much away, and never had, but Lorna could see she was highly puzzled by all of them. Earlene most definitely didn't look like the sort Lorna would ever have had cause to keep company with, and of course the elves, even if you didn't _know_ they were elves, were still...well, they stood out.

"I've got everything you'll need right here," she said, to all of them in general, setting two envelopes on her desk (dark wood, mirror polish, how long did she spend keeping that up?). "Add in the medical exam and I'll submit the lot."

"We need passports, too," Lorna said. "Well, these two do - I just need to renew mine."

It was at that moment that an astonishing oversight on her part occurred to Earlene, who used all of her self control not to wince and squeeze the bridge of her nose. Stalling for time, she asked Niamh, "I hope you don't mind the question, I'm a lawyer in the States. I'm just curious, what the papers are? You've saved me in a hundred ways, because the last thing I wanted was to try and figure out the ropes here in Ireland. I'm Earlene, this is Fionn, and Cian. We're very pleased to meet you."

 _Thranduil, I made a very big mistake. Oversight. You have to sign these papers. I am assuming that both you and Thanadir have signed about a million documents in Tengwar. We've never practiced you writing your own signatures in English letters. Do you both know how to spell your names? F-i-o-n-n and C-i-a-n. The last name is S-u-l-l-i-v-a-n. Just do the best you can, and take your time writing if you need to._

 _Just, shit, how could I have not thought of this?_ Earlene was truly in a state of disbelief regarding her own stupidity. _This is just...absofuckinglutely unacceptable._ Hell generally had no fury like when she was mad at herself.

Niamh rattled on pleasantly enough for a moment, explaining the forms. If she noticed that Earlene's gaze unfocused a time or two, her expression did not betray it.

Niamh had not been born yesterday. She could see the sudden tension in Earlene, and the brief glances the woman spared the two men. _Why,_ she didn't know, but she'd learned long ago how to be distracting. "I can get you your passports, too," she said, "but it'll be expensive. There's people I've got to grease, to get passports that fast for two people who've just got legal identities."

Lorna too glanced at Earlene, and at the elves, wondering what the hell was up and figuring it out pretty fast. _Thranduil, I can tell her you two learned a different alphabet growing up,_ she said. _Given that you've supposedly lived isolated from society, it'd make sense._

 _Short of informing her we are not human, say what you feel you need to, Lorna. Your friend can be trusted._

"You'll have to give Fionn and Cian a bit to sign," she said. "They grew up in a really, really isolated community, and the alphabet they learned isn't ours. It's...very different, so learning this one's not happened overnight. They've learned, but they haven't practiced their signatures in English much yet."

Earlene figured out how it was that the ellyn kept calm. Thanadir did it by not worrying about words he could not understand and trusting fully in Thranduil to manage any situation, no matter how ridiculous. And to Thranduil, after thousands of years of running a Kingdom, an unpracticed signature was about as much as obstacle to him as a snowflake in July. That she felt so out of her depth in the midst of anything legal felt like utter humiliation. Now she didn't want two pints of Guinness, she wanted whatever it took to get half-ossified, as her friend would say.

He smiled broadly and easily and spoke to Niamh. "Forgive me for not shaking your hand earlier," he said breezily as he extended his hand to her. "As Lorna mentioned, we...have not gotten out much, until recently, and many things are new. Including signatures in English. But we will manage fine," he said charmingly as he shook her hand.

Thanadir took the clue, unspoken or otherwise, and extended his own hand next. "I'm pleased to meet you, and thank you for all your help."

"I've owed Lorna a favor for ages," Niamh said, clearly trying not to betray how flustered she was, and failing. Her face didn't go very red, but it did pink a bit, and it was all Lorna could do not to facepalm. _That_ would certainly be an effective distraction. "And I've never had a case like yours before."

 _I'm sure she hasn't,_ Lorna thought, trying desperately not to laugh even as she gave Thranduil a rather pointed look. "Well, you don't owe me anymore," she said, and then, knowing Niamh would be highly _delighted_ by the idea, she added, "I'd like to keep you on, if you're willing. I'm not sure what else we'll need in the future, but I trust you, and I don't say that often."

Niamh, poor Niamh - she was trying not to actually stare at the elves, particularly at Thranduil, masking it in businesslike tidying of the medical papers she'd been handed. "I'd be happy to," she said. "So long as this isn't going to clap back on me somehow."

"It won't," Lorna promised. "There's no antagonists or anything like that. We just need what we need."

Thranduil smiled, even more charmingly than the one he gave before he spoke the first time. And it was highly suspect that Thanadir's countenance suddenly looked rather especially doe-eyed and beatific as well. "Regarding the passports, we had wished to go and visit Earlene's home in New York City, as soon as we might. While it isn't a complete emergency, there is a family matter, and we wished to travel as a family. We'd hoped to go in the next two months; you would know better than us what strain we are placing on the bureaucracy here. If it costs, it costs; we have the means to pay. And there is one other matter on which you might advise us. Earlene and I have married, according to the customs of our community. But because of my citizenship status, we cannot be legally married here. Yet. I would like to rectify that as soon as possible, but Earlene is of course not a citizen." He simply stopped talking then, looking at Niamh with an unmistakable air of _and what are we going to do about this little problem?_ while still continuing to smile.

Earlene had never before seen him take charge quite like this and...her regard for him was soaring even as her own self-esteem was temporarily eroding under the increasingly circus-like atmosphere of this conversation.

Lorna looked at that smile, and at those doe-eyes, and bit the inside of her cheek _really hard_. If those two didn't stop that, she was going to bust out laughing and look like a complete nutter. She'd say he was laying it on a bit thick, except it was working...Jesus, though. Thanadir's eyes. _Puss in Boots, goddammit…._ "Niamh, I need your toilet," she said, escaping and choking back her own laughter until she got to a place she could successfully vent it.

"The passports I can _probably_ get you within six weeks," Niamh said, looking a touch more flustered. "A marriage certificate...that will take longer, mostly because I'm going to need to look up a few things. You'll be Irish citizens, so you and Earlene theoretically won't have any trouble getting a license, but that's only in theory. I've never dealt with this method of acquiring identification before, and I'm sure there are strings I don't yet know of. I can't promise you a date on that one yet."

Lorna, having more or less mastered herself, made it back into the room, sitting beside Earlene, who seemed...down. It wasn't tremendously obvious, especially to someone who didn't know her, but _something_ was bothering her. There were some moments when Lorna rather wished she had telepathy, so she could silently promise a drink when they were through. She nevertheless shot Thranduil a slight glower, trying to tell him to behave without actually using the word.

"You can only do your best; we will have to wait to make our travel plans as there is nothing else to be done; we do not intend to swim the Atlantic. And concerning the marriage; again, when we are able. It changes nothing about our daily lives, but we would like to have the benefit of being legally proper when that can be the case. Would five thousand euros more on your retainer suffice? If that is not adequate please name the sum you desire; we will have it to you directly."

Niamh's eyebrows rose. "It would be more than sufficient," she said. "If you give me your contact information, I won't need to go through Lorna here, if she doesn't want me to. Though I still mean to take her out drinking, one'v these days." They did in fact have some catching-up to do. "I'll warn the lot'v you, if you take her to New York, don't let anyone step on her. She bites."

Earlene opened her purse and found her wallet, which still had some business cards. Though, she actually hesitated handing it over as she felt at the moment like a disgrace to her profession. "My email and cell phone are still correct, on this, please just ignore the rest," she said softly, handing it to Niamh.

"Thanks," Lorna said dryly. "Because, you know, I don't want to keep my job or anything."

"Oh, hush," Niamh said, taking the card - though when she looked at it, she let out a highly unprofessional, "Holy shit." She knew that firm - even here, all the way across the Atlantic, she knew that firm, and her eyebrows rose again. "You worked there?"

"I'd been made a senior partner, four years ago. Yes," Earlene said quietly. Though, it made her feel marginally better, to have the acknowledgement. _Maybe don't be so hard on yourself, Earlene_. But she wasn't really listening. In fact, she was telling that inner voice to _fuck off_ , in no uncertain terms.

Niamh, once again betraying her roots, said, "Bloody Christ. And you moved all the way out here…." It wasn't a question, because Niamh didn't ask questions, but it was close. "I've never had an actual bigwig in here before. There's not much like it to be found in Ireland."

"It's okay. I came here to have a different kind of life. It's hard to manage that better than moving to a sleepy village in Ireland, no? But if you ever need a favor back in the direction of the States, Niamh, you let me know. You and Lorna, you can't imagine what you've done for me. For us. I can't offer help in ways that are overtly, ah, illegal, but I have connections, and I don't forget who my friends have been." She smiled kindly but knowingly, and then left it at that.

"You lot might be the best thing that ever happened to me," Niamh said, to which Lorna added a quiet, "I _know,_ right?" "I don't know that I'll ever have cause to take you up on that, but I think you kindly for offering. If you'll email me your government paperwork, I'll see about getting you a marriage certificate set up, since I've already got theirs. You take care now, Earlene, Fionn, Cian. And Lorna, don't get them in too much trouble."

"Hush, you," Lorna said, rising. "We'll be in touch, Niamh. Get in touch with Shane sometime, would you? He thinks I'm making up that I'm talking to you again."

"Oh, I will. Sooner or later."

With that, they all rose and said their goodbyes, and loaded back up in the van. Earlene fished out her smartphone in order to make notes on her to-do list, and then slouched next to Thanadir. Really, it had all gone fine in the end...though not on account of her. _Well, you said you don't half know who you are anymore. Aren't you glad to see that you're right?_ She had no answer for herself. Thranduil stared straight ahead, not knowing what to do. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her. None of this would have been so difficult without their need for secrecy and their unprecedented circumstances...circumstances he'd created and dictated. It was absurd, that she blamed herself for not thinking of every last thing when she had already thought of so much, helped them navigate this far. But he knew that she wouldn't thank him for it, not in front of Lorna. And yet he couldn't just ignore her. He took his best guess.

 _Meluieg,_ he said with all the gentleness he could put in his thought. _We will talk, later. I know what it is, to try and live up to very high expectations for oneself. I know why you are unhappy; I have felt this disappointment with myself as well. Please know that I love you, and keep in mind that today succeeded. Lean against Thanadir. We will find some Guinness, I promise._ Turning around, he met her eyes briefly, saw a faint smile and nod, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Thanadir's arm came over her shoulder, even as she subtly shook her head. Thranduil wanted her to feel better, and was doing what he felt he could. And as much as she did not want it to, it was working.

"Lorna, I know that we had mentioned returning home afterward but...is Baile on the way? I think we would all like a drink, perhaps even some food. And last time, we had to leave somewhat abruptly. Unless there is something better here, or something you would prefer more?"

"It is," she said, pulling out and headed for the main road. "And Big Jamie's got some'v the best pub food you'll find this side'v the country. It'll be good for you lot to see the village without, you know, something hanging over our heads." She didn't say _Mairead_ , but she didn't need to. _Is she all right?_ she asked.

 _Yes. You have to understand, Earlene has lived her life being the best of the best. Never making mistakes. Giving her entire self so as to not have a whisper of a chance of making a mistake. In her own way, Earlene did a job as difficult as my own at the height of my rule. Flawlessly. She made a small mistake today. To most it would be nothing, but for her it is very hard. She will survive. She just needs a chance to see this in perspective. Much has changed for her in a very short space of time. Right now she mostly just wants to be...I believe 'get half-ossified' was what I heard. And food would be a good idea as well. I do not need a repeat of the elven wine episode. But she must not become ill. Just remember, you can drink more than four or five of Earlene. Thanadir would not speak to me for a week._

Lorna smiled, though thought of a job like that made her cringe. The pair of them were as alpha as they came, in their jobs, and while she sort of was, hers was bartending. Nowhere near the same caliber as either. _Now that I can do_ , she said. _I don't think even poitín could have the same effect as the elven wine. I'll try to keep her from getting ill, but I can't promise I'll succeed. If we can get her to pace herself with food and water, she ought to be okay; if she likes French-dip sandwiches, Big Jamie's are to die for, and they're huge, so that'd keep her occupied. Give her a mental hug from me, will you?_ Mental hugs were easier. They didn't involve all that physical contact.

Traffic was rather worse now, but, though she was driving rather aggressively, she was only doing it to keep up with traffic. Dublin drivers really did tend to be completely insane, and she felt her blood pressure rise as she swerved around some prick in a muscle car who evidently thought he looked much better than he did. He honked, and swore, and she smile again, a little of her ire draining. While it was probably wrong just how pleased she could be by making some gobshite's day worse, pleased she was. It meant they got out onto the motorway in one piece - though she swore under her breath when they did, because there was more traffic here, too, and she knew exactly how she'd handle it if she was alone in the van. She could see it, but she couldn't do it, and it was making her twitch.

Thanadir cleared his throat on a diagonal from her, his eyebrow raised. Earlene was finally leaning back against his shoulder looking out the window in mild contentment, until the traffic maneuver caused her to tense against him.

 _Now you've been put on warning, Lorna_ , Thranduil teased. _You'd best behave, next he does more than clear his throat._ The amusement in his mental voice was bottomless.

 _He's more than welcome to do this himself_ , she said, a bit sourly, though she couldn't help a dry half-smile. _I have to wonder what he'd do if I actually, you know, drove like me. Aside from possibly attempt to strangle me with my own hair._ She was perversely tempted to do it, because she was an awful person, but she wouldn't do that to poor Earlene - especially not right now. Still, she cursed under her breath as a lorry did its best to cut her off, and sped up just enough to make it have to get in behind her, because she did _not_ like being behind lorries. It was a motorcyclist thing; you were too easy to miss, and thus run over.

 _Never cross Thanadir. He is subtle. He would not do or say a thing. But then at some later point in time, he might be, say, teaching you a skill, or perhaps sparring with you, or some other endeavor in which he has the ascendancy. And then, Valar help you, he will take every inch of it out of you, and with interest. I have had just a little while in which to observe his traits. My son learned all of this the hard way as well; Thanadir arguably raised Legolas as much or more than we did. So as your friend, I have discharged my obligation to warn you_ , he said merrily.

Lorna tried not to laugh, she really did, but she couldn't banish the mental image of this Legolas (who in her mind looked much like teenage Thranduil) getting his arse handed to him by Thanadir over some offense - Thanadir, whose expression wouldn't actually change much. The thought was too much, and she dissolved into laughter. It helped quite a bit that traffic temporarily thinned out, allowing her to go at a place that would actually get them there before bloody nightfall. _He sometimes reminds me'v the librarian at the prison, actually,_ she said, still giggling. _Very...proper._

 _I am convinced that somewhere in each institution of any given size, there is a Thanadir. The world needs them, in order to function. But there can be only one_ , he said, recalling the time Erestor of Imladris and Thanadir had to share duties in a temporary and frankly disastrous arrangement.

 _There can only be one…_ Lorna spluttered again, changing lanes. _I wouldn't've pictured Thanadir as the Highlander_ , she said, and she really couldn't; while she could well imagine Thanadir with a sword, that was it. _Though the thought of him having a...a proper-off with someone like him is almost too good to be true._ It certainly kept her going on their way to the Kildare exit, even if it also kept her laughing. _That was a bit much, what you did to Niamh_ , she added. _Not your most subtle moment. Between the pair of you eejits, I had to get out of there before I died laughing and mucked it all up. Mind you, it worked, so I guess I can't be complaining, but still. Good grief._

 _Exactly_ , he said, his eyes twinkling. _It worked. Which is precisely what I emphasized to Earlene. Besides, if we are found attractive, why wouldn't I use that to our advantage? She was becoming suspicious that we were deceiving her, or would cause her trouble. If I went a little overboard in my efforts to reassure her, no matter. And am I hearing that it would entertain you to see Thanadir spar with another? I had considered doing this for Earlene, who has begun to learn. It is a good motivator, for a beginner to understand the end result. Perhaps I can tell him it was what I promised you if you could behave yourself while driving for the entire day._

 _If you don't stop making me laugh, he's going to suspect something's up_ , Lorna said, her shoulders shaking from her effort to hold it in. _He'd said he'd teach me to spar, but neitehr'v us have had the time. I'd love to see what he does, though - because I didn't actually see much, when I went after him that day, except for the fact that he's faster than a bloody snake._ She wiped her eyes, her cheeks sore from grinning. _Though if you tell him that, let me be around when he hears it. I absolutely need that mental image forever._

The exit wasn't terribly far now, so she started easing her way over. _You also need to tell him that I'm going to have to tell little white lies about...all'v us,_ she said. _I know he's compulsively honest and that, but people are going to ask questions just out of curiosity - it'd be rude as hell not to answer, but obviously I can't exactly tell the truth, either. Basically, if he hears me telling some lie, he needs to accept it's for a reason._ She'd try to stick as close to the truth as was possible, but sooner or later the lie would come in.

 _I understand, but I would advise you to use caution. Unless I am much mistaken, Earlene will stay very close to my seneschal. She understands him, better than you do. He is very capable of speaking for himself in most instances now; it may be better to let him do so than to say something ill-advised that attracts more attention. I like you very much, Lorna, but you are terrible at lying on short notice._ Thranduil put a great deal of humor into his words, hoping that she would understand without feeling offended.

Lorna snorted. _Oh, I made sure everyone at the pub knew to leave Thanadir alone_ , she said. _I just mean things like...well, why we were in Dublin. It's easier to say we were there on Earlene's business, and leave it at that._ She laughed again. _I know I am. Total pants at it, and I always have been._

 _Ah, but that is not a lie; we were indeed there on Earlene's business. You are simply not stating that there was more._

She pulled off at the exit, headed toward Baile. _You know, the one time I really, truly tried to lie and failed at it completely was when I first met Liam. I didn't want him to know we had the same parole officer, so I tried to say she was my sister. I tied myself up in such a knot I just gave up trying to speak._

In the rear, Earlene's eyebrows raised as she saw the road sign. Tapping Thanadir's arm gently, she pointed up at it discreetly, waiting to see in his eyes that he registered where they were headed. A rumble of humor beneath her shoulder assured her that he understood.

Thranduil chuckled, shaking his head as he continued his conversation with Lorna. _I would think that might have been a permanent discouragement. But then again, if you wed with the man, then obviously...it worked, even if in the most roundabout of ways. That is the problem with terrible ideas; sometimes they egg us on because they create success._

 _It did work_ , she said, able, now, to think on Liam fondly and without pain. _But I don't think I'll be trying it again. What worked once probably wouldn't, a second time._

The street was only lightly populated; it was a bit too early for most to be out of work. She found a parking spot right out front of the pub, and peered in through the window. A good selection of people, but mercifully, she saw no Niamh; she'd read the girl the riot act already, but seeing her might make Thanadir rather uncomfortable.

"All right, you lot, anything on Big Jamie's menu's good, but his French dip sandwiches are to die for. I know we've not got elven wine, but poitín's as close as you're going to get," she said, hopping out of the van. _I'll try to keep the really strong stuff away from Earlene_ , she promised.

Earlene exited and stretched. She could berate herself later in the privacy of her own home, there was no point ruining her outing over her mood of self-criticism. And she was hungry. Though, she wondered if they had cream stout here, the regular wasn't sounding quite as good right now. "How're the fish and chips?" she asked hopefully. She knew better than to ignore recommendations, but a good battered piece of fish just now...

"Bloody good," Lorna said, shoving open the door. "We grow the potatoes ourselves, and Jamie gets the fish through Molly, who gets them through her brother, who's a fisherman, so they're in here fresh every day."

"Oi, you," Big Jamie said, saluting her with a beer stein. "Wasn't thinking to be seeing you lot back here so soon. No Mairead this time?"

"No Mairead," Lorna said. "We've been out to Dublin today on business, and there's no better place to stop on the way home than here. Earlene, she's thinking fish and chips, but I'd murder a French dip." The elves probably weren't going to recognize half the things on the menu, but if there was anything they were wanting to know, Thranduil could ask her without asking aloud.

"I'm glad to know Mairead didn't put you off," Big Jamie said. "I know she can be a bit...much."

Lorna glanced around the somewhat dimly-lit room, and was a little too delighted when she spotted Ratiri sitting beside the fire. She wanted to go and talk to him, but she had responsibilities as a host as well as a friend and employee. No, she wasn't technically working here right now, but she had done for the last eleven years, and some things were just ingrained.

Earlene nudged Thanadir to the bar, and hogged a menu for the two of them to read. To her delight, she found that he liked to think about things in as orderly a manner as she did, and she helped him categorize the choices by food type. In the end, she stayed with fish and encouraged him to try the French dip; like as not he could have a piece of her fish as well. It was a given he'd never had chips. And he agreed to share a salad with her, which would keep the meal from being a nutritional travesty. Considering what she knew of his tastes, she ordered a double amaretto on the rocks for him, and cream stout for herself. And because she was feeling completely evil, after they had their drinks (she saw Lorna still showing Thranduil the menu) she claimed a table for five and introduced herself to Ratiri, inviting him to join them since Lorna and Thranduil were coming momentarily. She also engineered the seating so that Lorna would be next to him. _Why not, she thought. I've got to get one thing right today, sure god._

Thanadir looked very interested in Ratiri. Earlene guessed he might not have seen someone of Indian descent before. "Ratiri, Lorna said you are a physician? Are you in general practice?"

"I was a pediatrician," he said, "at Great Ormond Street in London, but I'm a GP here. Not much cause for a pediatrician outside a city, and I didn't want to live in a city anymore."

"Ah. Well, one never knows. I've been considering being in the family way and...well, where there are people, there are babies and children. And your father, he practices here as well?"

Lorna, still standing by the bar, caught that - mercifully, she didn't actually have anything in her mouth to choke on, but she was rather surprised. Good on Earlene.

"No, my cousin," Ratiri said. "His father did, before him. My father died some years ago, but he was a doctor, too - he met my mother in India as a young man."

"Forgive my mistake, and I am sorry for your loss," Earlene said. "Cian is with my man Fionn, and knows little of the world. Later I will show him where India is, but may I ask, what province your family came from? My gran kept a farm, and in our town in rural New York was a Punjabi family. They kept a beautiful orchard, and were known all around for the fruit they sold. I liked to hear them talk of home. Though, the conversations were always a little difficult as I know zero of that language and their English was a little broken. But we managed."

Lorna made it over just as Ratiri smiled, bearing a mug of Guinness roughly the size of her head. "Nagpur," he said. "It's in Maharashtra. They met while he was with Doctors Without Borders in the early seventies. His family weren't thrilled he'd married an Indian woman, and hers wasn't thrilled she'd married a white man, but they made it through. I know they were happy, even if my mother occasionally wanted to murder our neighbors."

Lorna laughed. "Well, you know, you're not properly Scottish if you don't want to kill your neighbors," she said. "It's the same here, really."

"I heard that!" Big Jamie called.

Ratiri tried to hold in his laughter, and utterly failed. "When did you come to Ireland?" he asked Earlene, though he kept sneaking glances at Lorna, who was naturally totally oblivious.

"Just a matter of weeks ago, actually. I'm from New York City. I came here to retire to a dull life in rural Ireland. The only part of that that actually happened was the rural Ireland part," she grinned, wondering if Ratiri would catch the joke. She was guessing not.

 _Meluieg, I did not think you were the matchmaking type._

 _I was feeling mischievous._

 _I see_ , Thranduil said, his voice laced with humor.

"And then some gobshite tried to cheat her, so we met, and I got hired, and now I'm kind'v a...cultural interpreter," Lorna said, figuring that actually sounded like a real thing. Maybe. "It's fun, but I miss the village. Staying on my mate Mick's couch isn't what I'd call ideal."

Ratiri winced a bit; being a doctor, he no doubt had plenty to say about sofa-beds. "How long will you be, before you come home?" he asked, and he was fairly sure he didn't sound too interested. Fairly sure. Christ, but he was bad at this.

"Another fortnight," she said, and sipped her mug. Naturally, this gave her a foam mustache, and really, there was no graceful way to wipe that off. Oh well. "I'll be going back and forth some, for work, but I'll be home again once Mick's hand's better." She really hoped he was asking for the reason she thought he might be, if that wasn't unspeakably arrogant of her to think he'd wait about for her.

Ratiri looked at her, and Earlene, and the men. There had been a lot of speculation as to just what the hell Lorna had got herself roped into, but the three of them looked legitimate. Legitimate what, he didn't know, but he trusted they weren't unsavory types. There had been even more speculation about the men than Earlene, who Mairead said was an American lawyer - exotic, for these parts, but understandable. The other two, though...there was something _different_ about them, something he couldn't hope to explain, and he wasn't the only one who'd spotted it. He'd have thought he was mental, if it had been just him, but Big Jamie had seen it, too.

But they'd brought with them Lorna, and he _really_ didn't know what to make her her - which wasn't a bad thing. She was tiny and fey and there was just _something_ about her, like he'd been meant to meet her. Unfortunately, that she still wore her wedding band, so long after losing her husband...except, he noticed, she wasn't now.

Hmm. Hopefully, that meant what he hoped it meant.

Earlene was watching Ratiri like a hawk, though pretending not to. She did break away long enough to quietly ask Thanadir if he liked the amaretto, to which he enthusiastically nodded. She grinned, enjoying a great deal that she had someone with whom to share her sugar enthusiasm. It did not escape her notice, though, that Ratiri's eyes were drawn over and over to the ellyn. She sighed. _They know without knowing,_ she thought. It interested her, that to her eyes they seemed so human. Astonishingly beautiful, but...completely normal. From the first time she laid eyes on Thranduil, in dreams or otherwise, only his beauty occurred to her. No part of her said "ooooh, weird" or "oooooh, alien" and definitely not "oooooh, elf". She knew that Lorna thought them different, but she just did not see it. Was something the matter with her, or was she just so attracted to them that she was lost in the middle of it? It could hardly be ruled out. But it wasn't like her, to fail to observe when others did. Idly, she wondered how her husband planned to manage this.

As she watched her besotted friend, it was already a foregone conclusion to her, where this was going. How long did Thranduil intend to allow Ratiri to remain ignorant? Or would he simply release Lorna to live more of her own life, and not plan to ever enlighten him? Somehow that latter one seemed unlikely. Thranduil had taken unusual risks with Lorna, and he didn't seem like the sort to just let go. As she swirled her stout, she hoped for his own sake that Ratiri had a very developed sense of the ridiculous and the wondrous, and a broad dose of open-mindedness. He was going to need all of it. At just that moment, Big Jamie hollered that some of the food was ready, and she invited Thanadir to collect it with her. He needed to learn about condiments and casual dining, and this was as good of a place as any. That Thranduil met her eyes with a huge smirk as she passed him was beside the point. She gently traced her fingers across the back of his neck as she passed by him.

"Have you been about much?" Lorna asked Ratiri. "There's woods behind my cottage that're lovely, but don't go in by yourself - it's easy to get lost. God know I did. Twice." And hadn't that been embarrassing as bloody hell.

"I love forests," Ratiri said, trying not to sound utterly bland and awkward - _I love forests? Who even says that?_ "I lived near a patch of one as a kid, before my parents moved to Glasgow. There wasn't much to it, but I thought it was beautiful. We didn't often get snow, but when we did, it was like walking in fairyland." Lorna belonged in fairyland, he thought; it wasn't just her height, it was her eyes, her hair, her face - everything about her. And God didn't he feel like a royal creep for thinking so much about a woman he'd only met twice.

"We live near a beautiful forest," Thranduil said. "Perhaps you would be willing to come and eat with all of us, one evening? My wife is a very good cook, and we would enjoy to have you. Both of you. It wouldn't do, to not feed Lorna," he teased. Again, he was having far too much fun.

Lorna stared at him in undisguised shock. That was possibly the last thing she had expected - Ratiri wasn't from Lasg'len; it wasn't like he'd grown up with legends of elves. He surely wouldn't risk it if he didn't mind that there was some chance Ratiri might find out about...everything. Her thoughts were far too much of a jumble to actually ask any questions; she managed a mental, _Bzuh?_ and that was it.

"I'd love to," Ratiri said, and hoped he didn't sound too eager. He wasn't a teenager, for God's sake. He'd handle this like a damned adult, no matter how hard it was.

"Good," said Thranduil. "If Lorna will work out a suitable day as soon as possible, then we will plan on it. Is there anything you do not care to eat?" He had been reading news articles and had learned about the dizzying array of vegetarianism, veganism, gluten-free-ism, piscatarianism and every other assault on what he felt was perfectly good food...but he at least knew enough to ask.

"I'm allergic to shellfish," Ratiri said. "Other than that, I don't have any preferences." His mother had been a devout Hindu, but his father had been a devout Scotsman, and thus fond of pretty much every meat there was - though he kept it away from the home dinner table, out of respect for his wife. He'd taken young Ratiri on a tour of all the best pub foods in Scotland instead.

"I've got work at the mechanic tomorrow during the day, but I'm off in the evening," Lorna said. "Next two days seem clear, barring an emergency."

"I'll be off tomorrow by five," Ratiri said, "though I'm betting Indira might let me go at four if I poked her." She'd teased him quite a bit about Lorna, but she was his cousin and could get away with it. "What I don't know is if she'll lend me her car."

"Don't worry about it," Lorna said. "Mick's got no use for this van while he can't drive it. I'll pick you up."

Just then Earlene and Thanadir returned, bearing food. Thanadir had taken an instant liking to ketchup and had piled an astonishing amount of it on top of his chips. Earene was trying very hard to work the grin off of her face by biting down on her cheeks. She also placed another whiskey on the rocks in front of Ratiri. "Big Jamie said this was what you were drinking," she smiled, and added in a much more hushed tone of voice, "I hope he got that right." Her cod looked fried to golden perfection, and Thanadir placed a second cream stout down for her, as he'd had a free hand. She looked at Lorna and Thranduil, feeling a dilemma. Usually it was rude to begin eating before the others, but this was a pub. "Would we offend you if we start eating?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. For all she knew Lorna and Thranduil had never ordered food.

"Earlene," her husband said, "please eat. I took the liberty of inviting Lorna and Ratiri to dinner tomorrow night, and they've accepted. Ratiri says he is allergic to shellfish."

"Oh, wonderful!" she said, with a big smile on her face. "Ah, what time works for you? Six? Seven?" Her mind already had rocket boosters firing, trying to figure out what in hell she would cook...another day's notice would have been nice, but oh well.

"I can bring something, too," Lorna said, feeling it wasn't quite fair to drop this on Earlene out of nowhere. "I don't know _what_ , but if you wanted anything." No, she couldn't cook anything more than just something serviceable, but that was why she had Mairead.

"Yes," beamed Earlene. "Wine. A decent red wine. Complex, and on the sweet side. With whales and petunias." The look on her face when she said it, eyeing Lorna, was priceless. Both women suddenly began laughing without explanation, and it went on a little too long for the comfort of everyone else at the table. Finally recovering herself, Earlene cleared her throat. "My apologies. It's a...girl's joke."

"It is," Lorna confirmed, and the only reason she gained any control over herself was studiously avoid looking at the elves. "Big Jamie's got some good wines, though nothing like we've had before." That was a statement she couldn't have clarified even if she'd wanted to. "It's - hang on, I've got food. Be right back." She hopped up at Big Jamie's call, and managed to keep her snickering quiet as she fetched hers and Thranduil's sandwiches.

Ratiri knew quite well he had to be missing more than he even realized, but he didn't ask. Not yet, anyway; this wasn't the time. Absurdly, all he could think of was fairy wine, which wasn't in the least helpful.

A cough from Thranduil caught Earlene's attention. She knew by now that since there was no cough, he had just heard something that caused a catch in his throat, and sincerely wondered what it was. More or less she could live without resentment that she would never have elven gifts, but this was one meeting where it would have been altogether amusing to know everyone's thoughts, like the proverbial fly on the wall. Her fish was delicious, and she daintily dabbed pieces of it into the tartar sauce. Thanadir was devouring his sandwich with astonishing speed while still managing perfect eating manners. Without a second thought, Earlene placed a full piece of fish and a cup of sauce on his plate. Starting in on her second beverage, she was beginning to feel quite happy. And that was when she did something that was perhaps unwise. She said to Thanadir softly but audibly, "Anírol nen?" (would you like water?)

The seneschal nodded, and she rose to return to the bar. Ratiri heard, and tried to puzzle out the language, though he did not ask aloud. Earlene seated herself again momentarily, bearing two glasses of water. Not particularly thinking either, Thanadir murmured "Len hannon."

She'd stuffed herself silly and was nursing the stout, when Big Jamie affably brought them the salad they'd not heard him call out for. Earlene groaned but Thanadir started in like a starved rabbit. Feeling obliged, she stabbed a few forkfuls but left most of it to him; he obviously still had room. So she slid the remainder of her chips over to him as well, and wondered if she should find him a dessert. "You were right, Lorna, the food here is wonderful."

"Most'v these reciples've been in Jamie's family for decades, if not longer," Lorna said, incredibly pleased. "Between him, Michael, and Orla, they've got the best pub food I've ever found, and I've been in a load'v pubs."

Ratiri laughed, but he was half distracted by watching Cian - how the hell could such a slender man eat so much? Where was he _putting_ it? He didn't look like he had an ounce of fat on him, yet he ate enough for two people. Lorna seemed quite content to put her food away, but not to the frankly ludicrous extreme Cian seemed to be managing. Ratiri hadn't seen anyone eat like that since his own father, who had been a bit of a weedy man who looked like he'd blow away in a stiff breeze. Maybe it was something in the Irish air.

 _Is he going to eat himself sick?_ Lorna asked, her eyes flicking to Thanadir. She highly doubted it - elves probably _couldn't_ eat themselves sick - but for the sake of Mick's van's interior, she felt duty-bound to ask. It had to be a true compliment to Jamie, that an elf would find his food so good - not that she could ever tell Jamie, but still. It was enough that it existed.

 _You are asking me?_ Thranduil asked, taking the last bite of his sandwich. _Thanadir, be sick?_ His blue eyes sparkled as she shook his head No. _Impossible. In fact, I would wager that he could eat another half-sandwich before declaring himself truly full._

All around the table seemed content, and dinner was agreed on for 6:30 the following evening. Earlene decided that she had the entire way home in a food coma to prepare the meal in her head, and also noted that it would be very wise for her to take advantage of the ladies' room before they left. Excusing herself, she happily meandered off.

Lorna, out of long habit, gathered up the dinner things into the stacks she'd always made to take them back to the kitchen. She looked up at Ratiri, and further up, and had had just enough to drink that she thought nothing of standing on one of the chairs, to better be able to look him in the eye.

"I'm going to have to carry a stool around, with you," she said, grinning. "Or stilts. Though with stilts in a forest, I'd land on my face and smash...all'v it."

"Not a mental picture I needed," he said, laughing a little. "You don't need a stool. Tiny is good." He immediately looked like he wanted to slap himself, and Lorna couldn't help but laugh.

"You try that when you've got to buy your trousers in the bloody children's section," she said, taking pity on him. "I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" Boy, this...how was it going to go? What exactly did Thranduil have in mind? She glanced at the elf in question, suspicious. If she was beginning to learn anything about him, it was that he never seemed to do something without a reason, but whether or not he would explain that reason until after the fact was anyone's guess.

As they rose from the table, Thranduil could not resist grinning at Lorna knowingly. Earlene, in the meanwhile, had settled up with Big Jamie when no one else was looking. It was very cute to see Lorna enjoying herself. No, cute was not the word. It was nice. Of all people, Earlene understood what it was to wait a very long time for someone you actually wanted. She genuinely hoped they, and all the weirdness, worked out somehow. Everyone made for the door, and loaded up into the van. Her eyebrow raised, recalling the size of the drink Lorna'd had.

With a wave of her hand she caught Thranduil's attention. _She is...okay to drive?_

A single nod was all the answer she needed.

Lorna had paused just long enough to buy a bottle of Jamie's best red (whatever that actually meant) before she gave Ratiri a grin. "I'll see you tomorrow, mate," she said.

"Looking forward to it." Well, at least he sounded like as big a dork as she felt. If they had to be like this, at least they both were.

She headed out to the van, depositing the wine into Mick's box of tools so it wouldn't rattle around. "All right, you lot - we're off. If you fall asleep on the way back, I'll not blame you," she said, firing up the engine.

Returning to his seat and his now well-watered whisky, Ratiri fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his browser. _Anirol nen_ , he entered. Nothing. Gibberish, even. He had a very good memory for words. _Len hannon_. ' _Thank you'….in….Sindarin?_ And it had to be right; it fit the context. Someone had been given something, and saying "thank you" for the glass of water made perfect sense. Wait. He entered another search term. _Sindarin word for 'water'_ …... _Nen_. Who in hell spoke Sindarin? He'd never heard of it. _Sindarin….the invented fictional language of J.R.R. Tolkien spoken by….elves._ Switching off his phone, he sat and started into the fire for a very long time.

As the van pulled onto the main highway, Earlene had it pretty much worked out in her head. Five people. A roast beef, duchess potatoes, a green salad with shredded beetroot and carrot, wine, fresh bread if it could be managed by herself or the bakery (she'd need to scuttle off to town early in the day for both the bread and meat) and chocolate something or other for dessert. She'd have wine already, and Lorna'd bring more. Or rather, the bottle in question was being currently traumatized on a toolbox, so probably no worries there.

 _Thranduil?_

 _Yes, meluieg?_

 _Can we all have a conversation about Ratiri? I mean, a real conversation with the four of us talking aloud about where this is going? What your intentions are? Because I sure as heck would like to know, and I'd bet money so would Lorna. With respect to the fact that I am sworn to do whatever you ask me and you don't have to explain a damn thing if you don't actually want to, of course._

He laughed loudly. Aloud. Which was either a very good sign or precluded ultimate dismissal; she'd find out momentarily, she guessed.

"Earlene has just requested we have what she refers to as 'an actual conversation' about my dinner invitation to Ratiri," he said. "And as it is a fair question, the answer is Yes. And as Lorna has mentally noted, I often do not explain my actions until later. Do you mind this, Lorna?"

"Mind what?" she asked. "Ratiri coming to dinner? Hell no." While Thranduil could possibly intend to just wipe his mind of anything he might see that shouldn't be seen, Lorna trusted him not to. She was pretty sure Ratiri wouldn't be coming, were that even an option.

"Lorna, I am sure it has already occurred to you that you are included with us as family, trusted with knowledge of us in the same way Earlene is. With your interest in Ratiri, which I will venture to say is mutual, it is a foregone conclusion that he must either be included with us or excluded from us. He is an honest, good-hearted man. He already realizes that we are not ordinary, though he cannot possibly understand why just yet. I have no wish to interfere in your ability to form an attachment with him, Lorna, if that is the path you choose. Meaning, there is only one real option; he has to be welcome in Lasg'len. It would be wise, for us to not appear so often in Baile, because Ratiri is not alone in his observations. He is capable of discretion, but we should not spread ourselves further, so to speak. If you will forgive me, I had to leave Big Jamie in a frame of mind in which he is no longer inclined to think on us so much. Or at least, no longer inclined to think on what he perceives as our being unusual. I cannot say how easily Ratiri will accept us. Or how exactly to go about admitting him to our proverbial inner circle. I have no wish to startle him like I did you, Lorna. Thoughts? This affects everyone here."

Lorna wasn't at all surprised Big Jamie had been one of the others to notice there was something...different… about the elves. "You know," she said, choosing her words with care - not an easy thing, given how terrible she was at using her words at the best of times - "when I first signed on here, I didn't expect I'd be let in this close, given that I didn't sign on for the job I couldn't quit, sort'v thing, and I'd figured it would only be fair that I wasn't. You lot operate on formalized promises, and you've got my word on my terms, so I totally figured I would be staying outside a bit. I'm shite at saying it, but I really appreciate you lot - that you'd let me in, and that you'd consider letting someone else in because I like them." _Like them_ ; Christ, she sounded like she was in secondary school. She had to laugh a little, though. "Me being so startled was half my own bloody fault; I'd been told you were elves, and wouldn't believe it. I can't say I wasn't warned." How in God's name they were to let Ratiri in on it...she'd have to think on it, and hope someone came up with something better meantime. _How about not giving him alcohol poisoning,_ she thought. Then again, he was Scottish; his liver was probably as impervious as hers.

"Well," said Earlene, "he probably didn't grow up in the superstition capital of the world, so I'm guessing that belief in fae aren't part of his vocabulary. He's a scientist. I don't want to project myself onto him but I think that once he is confronted with irrefutable evidence that elves exist, the rest is going to be no particular difficulty for him, give or take that he will want to understand things that are not understandable; you Eldar do rather defy the known laws of physics, as near as I can work out. But really, as long as he will agree to keep your secret, it won't be too hard. The real question is, he is far more interested in Lorna than the rest of us. Is that interest enough to buy his silence until he has a chance to get to know about all of us and that we are decent individuals who cannot afford to be exposed to the outer world? He is a doctor, and doctors do have to keep confidences."

"And keeping it's not that much'v a hardship," Lorna added. Even if Indira got curious, it was easy enough to twist the truth a bit, even for her, and she couldn't lie to save her life. "If you really want to, anyway." The elves had already become family to her; the motivation was already there. That it was both her and Earlene keeping that secret made it easier, so hopefully there being three of them would make it easier for Ratiri.

"There's always the direct approach, too," said Earlene. "If Thranduil has determined he is trustworthy, then, we can also choose to apologize profusely for bursting his bubble and simply tell him the truth. Though I admit, the idea of bringing a dinner guest in with the deliberate intent to wreck his sensibilities sort of flies in the face of hospitality. I don't know how you feel about it Lorna, but you can make this easier or harder by what he is told on the way here; you could choose to maneuver the discussion in that direction and just simply say that you can tell him why they are different if he will promise to keep what he learns to himself, because it's crucial for all of our safety; that isn't a lie."

"I'll feel things out as we drive," Lorna said. "It'll give me enough time to figure out how he might react to just straight-up being told, though God knows I'd not do it on the motorway. And I'm hoping that knowing I trust you all will count for...something." What, she wasn't sure, but hopefully _something_. "If he's come here by himself, it probably means he's good at keeping things to himself. And...he just doesn't strike me as the type that'd betray someone like that. I'm no telepath or anything, but I just don't think he's like...that."

"Nor do I," said Thranduil. "Thanadir, you have not said a word. Do you have any thoughts, my friend?"

Thanadir cleared his throat. "My thought is to help you accomplish what you wish, Thranduil. But there is another thing no one has said. He will also come to the Halls? Because knowing about us seems to lead to that."

Thranduil considered. Yes, it most certainly did. "If he navigates learning of us, then yes, he would. He will have the choice to join us, be part of our family here. And there is also another possibility, one that I do not wish to mention, but I must. If it all falls apart, if he and Lorna do not form an eventual bond, if he rejects our acceptance...he can be made to forget everything. It is not a step I would take willingly or lightly, but as I am risking much, it has to be understood that my ultimate obligation is the protection of all of us. And as I do not have a human perspective, I would ask both Earlene and Lorna, is that an equitable path for me to walk?"

Lorna winced a bit; the thought sat ill with her, but at the same time she very much understood the need. The elves couldn't let their existence get out; that was just a fact there was no getting around. While the thought of too much tweaking of anyone's head disturbed her, she could understand why it could potentially be quite necessary. "I think it's the only path you really can walk," she said, "if you're going to be willing to let in more outsiders. There's always that risk, and honestly, I can't think what else you could do." Christ did she hope it never came to that - if it did, it did, but she hoped it never would. Earlene simply bobbed her head, nodding. In her mind, nothing could be more sensible.

"I am hoping that for the foreseeable future that this will be the last time we take this risk. I would not be considering this if I thought there was any real chance that this would not work, based on what I can see of his heart. He is a good man. But I have to consider every possibility. So, it seems that one way or another, tomorrow will be a most interesting day. A most….interesting….day," he trailed off. Nothing further was said, as the steady hum of the motor accompanied the meandering thoughts of each of them.


	28. Chapter 28

As the van moved along home Earlene was already forming her mental-and not so mental-checklists. She guessed Thanadir might think she was more than a little odd, the way she'd click on her smartphone, swipe a few words, shut it down, click it on, swipe a few words. Though, he never said anything about it. He was always polite that way, even when part of this routine included leaning against his shoulder for a few minutes before sitting bolt upright to tap in more words. By the time she'd arrived home and they'd said their "good lucks" to Lorna and thanked her for chauffeuring, Earlene practically itched to get to her laptop. No one was going to want dinner tonight, after that lunch. Or rather, anyone who did want it could get it in the Halls; she had no intention of cooking anything beside tomorrow night's meal. Politely but tersely, she informed the ellyn that she could not be disturbed for a time.

Looking at her brother's contact information, she decided that she was going to add at least some small layer of distance. Quickly, she created a new email account with Google and linked it to her usual one; it would be this, that she would use for correspondence with him; by no means was she going to make access to her easy. The communication was, by her standards, very terse:

 _"Aidan. Congratulations on your daughter, I hope she is bringing you joy. I am not in a position to return to the States on short notice. It is possible that in two more months, or thereabouts, I will visit briefly. The only way to meet sooner would be for you and Allanah to come here. However, we do not have any spare room; this is a one-bedroom cottage on the outskirts of a small village. While your apology is appreciated, I'm sure you understand that more lies between us than can be repaired with a card. I will advise you when I am able to plan a visit. -Earlene"_

 _A one-bedroom cottage and room for ten thousand inside the forest,_ she mused, _but you're hardly welcome in either location_. Her favorite part of this entire letter was a single pronoun, "We". _Let him wonder._

Next came the phone call, since tapping out the short letter had just started her rolling. Upon further reflection, she determined that this would be handled centrally; she decided to hit up a classmate who had been a good school friend and had gone into family law. By luck, she was put through immediately. In her usual crisp manner after the greetings and the niceties were out of the way, she laid out the entire thing; her suspicions, and the preparations she wanted in place for herself long before she returned to New York; this could be anything from a total waste of time to a cross-continent adoption. Her friend agreed to handle it; all of it, including the services of a private investigator. Earlene gave profuse thanks, and assured her that within the hour she would have an email with Earlene's contact information. They concluded their discussion laughing, both saying at the same time "always know where to send the bill"...it was an old joke between them from a class on Legal Business Management. When she hung up, she stared at the screen for a few more moments, before sending the agreed-on email; no less would be expected. If Earlene was known for nothing else, she had quite a reputation for caring for task lists faster than a piranha on a carcass. When it was all done, she bit her fingernail and retrieved a blank manila folder; into it went Aidan's card. That folder might be quite thick, before the next two months had elapsed. She shut her laptop then, staring for a moment. Warm hands found her shoulders.

"That was quite a thing to watch, meluieg," Thranduil teased. "I did not dare interrupt you."

"Good," she said, turning to kiss him, then thinking better of it and standing so that she could fully end up in his arms. "Besides, I had to do something to repair my self-esteem." Her voice lost its humor. "Thank you, for what you said to me, earlier. I find myself in the awkward position of you having done my job far better than I did. You are remarkable, Thranduil; not many could find themselves so out of their element and yet completely master a situation as you did. And yes, I know that it goes with your job description, but that doesn't change anything about the end result."

He smiled. It was not often that he was acknowledged in this manner. "Thank you," was all that was necessary. from him. He could see that she had reconciled herself to what had occurred, and that it required no further discussion. "Do you wish to spend the night here, or in the Halls, Earlene?" he asked.

She frowned. "Here, if you do not mind. I would like to have more than enough time to prepare this dinner, if I may; I should go shopping in town for what I will need in the morning if I am to get anything decent at the baker's. It is important that it go well, for me. And given that much rides on this encounter for Lorna…."

Thranduil held up his hand. "It is not necessary to convince me that you deserve a chance to have minimal stress over the guest that I invited to your home without consulting you first," he said with humor. "I think we all could use a quiet evening. Perhaps something to watch…? Star Trek?"

"Why not," Earlene quipped.

Thanadir looked up from his computer and smiled, from his usual perch on the sofa. Sometimes she could swear she saw him sitting there, even when he was gone. "Space, the final frontier..." he intoned brightly. And something about that managed to melt through all of the tension she'd felt from the day's events. Aidan, Ratiri, paperwork, doctors...she loved both ellyn. Her family.

Laughing, Earlene continued. "...These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise….". And it did not surprise her in the least when Thanadir continued, because he had already memorized the whole thing.

Lorna, unfortunately, woke the next morning having fallen to the Communists overnight, which left her grouchy as hell. She took half a hydrocodone for her cramps before heading down to the mechanic, losing herself in the work while the drug took hold. It did far less for her than it would for most, but given she was working with power tools, that was actually a good thing.

She couldn't get tonight off her mind, even when she stood elbow-deep in the gutted engine of Ian's pickup. What would Ratiri make of the whole...everything? Would he run away screaming? Probably not. Thranduil wouldn't have invited him if he thought that likely. Still...ugh, she shouldn't be nervous about this. Whatever would happen, would happen, and meanwhile she didn't need to be taking her thumb off with anything. The fact that Thranduil could probably fix that was entirely beside the point.

The day passed largely without incident, though she had to pop the other half of the hydrocodone, thankful that by this stage in her life, periods weren't actually that much of an issue. Yes, she tended to want to murder everyone she met, but right now she was too keyed-up with anticipation.

She took a shower before she left, to make sure she didn't smell like gasoline or oil, washing her hair with the lovely elf shampoo. For once, she figured she'd leave it down when she went home; for years, she'd worn it in the braid to keep it under control, but with these elven hair products, it controlled itself. No matter what Earlene said, she wasn't the sort men usually looked at twice, and while Ratiri had, she'd like to keep him looking - and she knew her hair was her best feature.

She noticed right off that the dent in her ribs was no longer a dent, and the scar that ran over the side of her chest was gone. Thranduil's work, surely, but she couldn't find it in her to be embarrassed he must have had her top off; he was one of the few heterosexual men in the world she knew wouldn't be, er, getting anything out of it himself - not after what Earlene had said about elves literally being incapable of being attracted to anyone but their spouse. (Not that she would have thought he'd be beforehand, but now she knew it for fact that he wouldn't.) She'd have to remember to thank him later; if all went well, sooner or later Ratiri would see her with her top off, and she'd quite like it if he would appreciate what he saw. Lacking the dent and the scar, hopefully he would.

One of her packages from Amazon had arrived: black leggings and a red-and-black flannel tunic top. (She was never giving up the flannel. Not unless it was pried out of her cold, dead hands.) While it could hardly be called feminine, at least it wasn't actual men's clothes.

"Are you ever going to give my van back?" Mick asked, when she headed downstairs.

"When I'm done with it," she retorted. "I'll change the oil for you, though."

"I'll not get a better offer than that," he said, waving her away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Lorna paused. "What does that even include?" she asked, genuinely wondering. "Figure skating? Origami?"

"Shut it, you," Mick said, shaking his head.

"All right, all right." Out she went, off into the sunshine. It looked like weather was coming in, however; there would be rain by nightfall, and wouldn't that be fun to drive in. At least the van's tires were new.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove, and winced a little. Her cramps weren't bad, but they were annoying, and she couldn't even drink too much to calm them - not given that she had to bring Ratiri home later. At least she wasn't afraid she'd make a fool of herself; he was every bit as awkward as she was, which was a bit hilarious, at their age - for she assumed he was somewhere near her there. There was no grey in his hair, but his bearing told her he was well north of thirty.

Some gobshite in a Prius cut her off, and Lorna's eyes narrowed: for once, _finally,_ she could drive as she normally did. Gunning the accelerator, she came up half a hand behind him before swerving into the right lane, narrowly dodging an SUV that laid on the horn.

"Sorry, mate," she said, completely unrepentant, and cut neatly in front of the Prius before slowing to the closest thing to a crawl one would manage on the motorway. It wasn't something she maintained - she was just proving a point, before speeding up again. She knew all the spots the cops liked to lurk, so she knew when to slow down to something approaching the speed limit, but otherwise...well, Mick's van had a powerful engine, and he wouldn't have been able to put it to the test for a while.

It meant it only took her forty minutes to reach Baile, and she paused to run a comb through her hair, feeling like an idiotic teenager as she did it. She was about to meet up with a bloke she quite liked, and thought was quite pretty. Sue her.

Ratiri sat inside the pub, rather nervous - for more than one reason. Several people had warned him about Lorna's driving, but if her boss(es?) could handle it...but then, Earlene was from New York City. Her idea of safe and sane driving might be a little...skewed.

What should he even expect out there? Nobody in the village seemed to be entirely sure just what Lorna did for Earlene and her husband; 'dealing with gobshites' was a bit vague, and probably wouldn't necessitate a full-time job. Perhaps he was about to get in over his head, but he found he didn't care. He'd come to Ireland because Indira was the only family he had left; he'd been stagnating in London, and lonely, but there wasn't anything to tempt him back to Scotland, either. He wouldn't be able to practice his specialty outside of a city, but he didn't mind being a GP. It was something different, and he'd been craving a change.

The white van he'd seen yesterday pulled up out front of the pub, and Lorna hopped - actually hopped, good God she was tiny - out of it. That hair of hers...as a younger man, Ratiri had seen many women he found physically desirable, but with Lorna there was something - well, more pure. He didn't crave getting her into his bed; he simply wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to see if, as he suspected, she would be as warm as a cat. Maybe more would come later, once he knew her better, but for now he just wished to look, and perhaps to pet, because there really was something rather feline about her. Feline and fey.

When she came through the door, he had to bite back a laugh. She wore a pair of black Doc Martens, brand new, and while they weren't quite comically large on her, they were close. She was... _adorable_ was the only word.

"I hope you signed your will," Big Jamie said.

"Hush, you." Lorna glowered at him, looking rather unimpressed. "I can drive like a sane person when I feel like it. You think Earlene and Company would ride with me if I didn't?"

"Maybe they like taking their lives in their hands," he deadpanned.

"Shut it." She gave Ratiri a grin. "I won't kill us both, I promise. Tales'v my driving have been wildly exaggerated."

"No they haven't!" Michael called from the kitchen.

"You shut it, too!" she called back. "Don't believe a word this lot says about me. Lies, all'v it. Lies and slander."

Now Ratiri _did_ laugh, and rose to follow her out the door. Quite honestly, before he'd seen the interior of the van, he'd wondered how someone so small could even drive the thing. The answer, apparently, was 'barely'; even with the seat scooted all the way forward, seeing over the steering wheel had to be a chore. The passenger seat, by contrast, was all the way back; either Earlene's husband or their...friend? Nobody had actually said just what Cian did. One of them had been sitting in front.

"You've got a bit'v leg room there, at least," Lorna said, pulling out onto the street once he was buckled in. "This isn't my van, but I'll have to get one, if I'm going to be driving so much. I've got a motorcycle, but you can't exactly haul anything on one."

He tried to imagine Lorna on a motorcycle, and failed. She was so small, how could she control one without leaning over so far she fell off? "If you're driving your boss and her husband around, you definitely need something this big." It wasn't often Ratiri ran into a man as tall as he was, but Fionn stood eye-to-eye with him. Fionn, the man with the Irish name but without an Irish accent; Ratiri had no idea just what his accent actually was, but Irish it was not.

"You said you lived in the country as a kid?" Lorna said, as they headed for the motorway.

"I did," he affirmed. "We moved to Glasgow when I was twelve, and I hated it. I missed the moors, and my trees. Dad told me that was just the way of it, but that didn't mean I had to like it."

"No, no it didn't," she said, shaking her head. "Opposite, for me; I grew up in Dublin, and moved out here when I was twenty-eight. Have your lot got the same superstitions there that we do here? My gran was as superstitious as they came, and I thought she was winding me up a few times with some of the shite she believed."

He snorted. "If they're not the same, they're probably close," he said, and didn't yet know her well enough to say that he'd missed them, in the city - missed believing in fairies, even though he knew they didn't really exist. Like Agent Mulder, Ratiri had wanted to believe. "I actually went to Carterhaugh on holiday while I was at university. Do you know the ballad of Tam Lin?"

"I do," Lorna said, stepping on the accelerator. It wasn't quite enough to make him jump. "Liam, my late husband, he and I passed through that area one year when they were having the festival at Carterhaugh. He told me not to go picking roses because he didn't want to have to fight Tam Lin to get me back. I told him I'd fight Tam for him, thanks so much."

Lorna might be tiny, Ratiri knew better than to underestimate small people: both his parents had been on the short side, and they'd each been twenty pounds of dynamite in a ten-pound sack. "It was the festival I went to," he said. "We've got fairies in our blood, the Scots, whether we like to admit it or not. Even in Glasgow I'd see people leaving out bowls of milk for the fairies at night."

Lorna wanted to count that a fortunate sign, but just because he seemed to want to believe, it didn't mean he'd _still_ want to once he was confronted with reality. And even if he did, Thranduil's telepathy, or more accurately that he couldn't turn it off, might prove a sticking point. He'd proven to her that she could trust him with the random vomit her brain produced, but Ratiri didn't know him, and would have no such assurance by experience.

God, that was another thing - for whatever reason, he'd let her off when it came to speaking any formal vows, but would he do the same with Ratiri? He'd taken one mother of a gamble on her, so she hoped he'd be willing to take one with Ratiri, too. While the Scots didn't have _quite_ the same hangups with monarchy as the Irish, they were close.

They traded national mythologies until they reached Lasg'len, which he eyed with interest, though it really did look much like Baile. When they passed through town, though, and he caught his first sight of the forest, she heard his breath catch.

"Pretty, isn't it?" she asked, well aware that it was the understatement of the decade.

"I didn't think there was any ancient forest left in Ireland," he said, staring. He'd only seen truly ancient forest once in his life, when his dad took him and his mam hiking when he was a child.

"Wait'll you see the cottage," she said. "It's like something out'v a fairy tale."

They passed through the trees, and he saw what she meant: it was a cottage, yes, but it looked like part of the forest, as though it had been formed rather than built. Warm light spilled from the windows, though he saw no other vehicles.

"C'mon in," Lorna said, parking the van and hopping out. (Seriously, she hopped. It was adorable.) He followed her, out into air growing chill with evening.

Inside, Earlene had done all she felt she could. After the usual preparations had been done, the house was checked for any cleaning needs. But somehow, like the Halls, the place just never seemed to get dirty. Whatever, she'd take it. The table was set, the roast was due to come out in exactly fifteen minutes. With another fifteen minutes for it to rest, that would mean that the meal would commence at thirty minutes past the agreed-upon time; any earlier, and delayed guests jeopardized the perfect time to slice the roast. Any later, and one tended to have crabby guests. The potatoes would go into the oven to brown their piped spiral tops to perfection the moment the roast came out. _I love duchess potatoes_ , she thought, not for the last time. They made people think they were eating much fancier food than they really were, an illusion she was happy to endorse. It was all ready to roll and...she heard the sound of a motor. _Good one, Lorna, right on time._

Looking up, she smiled at Thranduil and Thanadir. While by agreement they'd left their cloaks hung up in the closet, they were both dressed in solidly elven clothing. As was she, for that matter; having decided to wear the least fancy of the garments Thanadir had made for her. There was no attempt to conceal the necklace...this was them, at home, in all its splendid weirdness. _I don't really know what the Valar much are, but if they are real and they can shake fairy dust on this evening, I hope to hell they might consider that._ All three of them looked at each other with expressions that more or less said, 'here goes.'

This was not quite what Ratiri had imagined - okay, nothing like he'd imagined. Earlene was a very professional, businesslike woman, and he'd thought her abode would reflect that, but this seemed more fit for the fae themselves. She, her husband, and Cian (seriously, though - who was he, and what did he do? Nobody at the pub had any idea) all looked quite relaxed, more so than they had at the pub. Home, he knew, could be a powerful draw, and alter a person's comfort level to an astonishing degree. "Hi," he said, a touch awkwardly. "Thanks for having me."

Lorna followed just behind him, kicking out of her boots - rather hilariously, she didn't actually have to untie them to do it. "Traffic's not bad," she said. "It'll rain later, though, so I might be a while getting back later." Even with the horror taken out of the memory of Liam's death, she was never going to feel comfortable driving in a downpour. It just wasn't going to happen.

"What can I offer you to drink, Ratiri? I have wine, bottles of Guinness, and a half-respectable assortment of stronger stuff. And of course, lovely Irish tap water," smiled Earlene. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Guinness, please," he said. "I'm trying to get used to it so I actually fit in. It's pretty popular in Scotland too, but not like it is here. I swear in Ireland, if you don't like it, they take your license away and possibly shoot you."

Lorna burst out laughing, totally unable to stop herself.

"You have a lovely home," Ratiri said, looking down at her with a smile before turning back to Earlene. "And to be in an ancient forest - there are so few of those left anywhere in Britain, and I didn't realize there was one here."

"Thank you", said Earlene. "I'm not completely sure who built this place; it's old. I had a lot of work done before I moved in. Half of the land that goes with the house is forest, but as any of the villagers will tell you, it's safest to stay out of it. It is very easy to get lost in there. "

"That I would believe," he said, trying not to stare at the men's clothing. His mam hadn't raised any fool; staring was rude, and there was really no polite way to ask. Earlene's clothing he might have written off as her enjoying dressing quite formally - her dress was beautiful, and that necklace, good grief - but such clothes on men were rather outside his experience. They certainly fit the surroundings, but why?

Lorna didn't seem to find it peculiar in the least, and his curiosity about her job grew. Between all these clothes, the whispered Sindarin he'd overheard...were these people Tolkien re-enactors? They'd have to be quite dedicated Tolkien re-enactors, and wealthy, but he'd heard of such things. Should they truly want to remove part of their life from the modern world, having someone like Lorna would make sense: somebody had to interact with it. "My dad always used to tell me to have respect for nature, because it has no respect for us."

"That's both creepy and apt," Lorna said, her eyes darting from him to the elves, and back again. She could practically see what was going on in his head: his brain wasn't dismissing what he was seeing on the surface, but going anywhere deeper - yet - was a no-go. Not that she blamed him; like her, he'd spent his entire life living in what he'd believed to be the rational world, no matter how much he might have wanted to believe when he was younger.

"Earlene, I know you said you were a lawyer, but Fionn, what do you do for a living?" He didn't want to sound too nosy, but he was curious, and it still counted as polite conversation. (He'd get to Cian later; interrogating was even ruder than staring, and he could practically feel Mam slapping him upside the head all the way from thirty years' past.)

Thranduil looked up and smiled. As always, the challenge was how to guide them in without completely assaulting their senses. That the man was not connecting the dots fully was obvious, but at the same time, he had learned something dangerously close to the truth, and it was a matter of hours before he might choose to offer what he'd observed to others once he returned home to Baile. 'Whispered Sindarin'...this mortal had been intelligent enough to not only overhear one very quiet exchange between his wife and his seneschal, but to investigate and reach a nearly accurate conclusion; that was impressive. And they really only had this evening to crack open the egg; he also read in Ratiri's mind that he and Thanadir were now a topic of much speculation in the Baile pub in spite of his efforts to discourage this. _No risk, no reward_ , he thought. And either way, he still held full power here, for the moment...a circumstance that might erode quickly indeed.

"You might say that I have nothing to do except be a King over my own little Kingdom, Ratiri. It is not necessary for me to earn a living, having adequate means. Nevertheless I have many responsibilities, overseeing projects and caring for my workers. Cian works alongside me. We live an unusual life, out here; it is a close-knit community. We have been very grateful to include Lorna in our lives, since meeting her; she is as family to us. Your question, though simple, is a difficult one to answer, because so much about us is unfamiliar at best to those outside of Lasg'len. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable; coming here can feel like stepping into another world."

That certainly explained how he, Earlene, and Cian could afford to live as they seemed to. And an entire community...well, an ancient forest of this size could easily contain a whole village, Ratiri would think; perhaps Earlene's house was the...gateway, sort of thing, between the community and the wider world. They'd certainly managed to hide themselves quite well; usually, alternative communities made the news sooner or later, but he'd never heard of...Lasg'len. That tickled something in his brain, though he could not yet have said what.

"It certainly looks like it," he said. "Trees like this, there are people who would give their right arm to live somewhere so beautiful. Everyone in Baile's been wondering why Lorna hasn't come home too often on her days off, but I think I understand it now ," he said, giving her a smile. But how had she fit into all this? She wasn't a resident of Lasg'len, and he would have thought a secretive community would have done its best to keep outsiders in the dark, yet here she was, tiny and fey and looking too much like she belonged among the trees. Earlene would have started out even more of an outsider - but then, if she'd bought the cottage, taking her in only made sense; it would be take her in or drive her off. He eyed Fionn closely, intensely curious, before turning his eyes to Earlene.

"Are you a linguist buff, Earlene?" he asked carefully, his tone light and curious. He didn't want to sound like he was interrogating her, because he was quite sure he hadn't been meant to hear her words with Cian last night, but he couldn't let it go. "Forgive me, but I heard you and Cian, and I'm always curious about languages, for all I'm pants at most myself."

She knew that she had open permission to run with it; they were all trying to breach whatever disbelief he would have brought here with him, as quickly and gently as possible. And frankly, the bent of his questions made it appear that he might be more ready than they'd guessed to have his bubble burst. "Yes and no," she said, smiling. "English is my favorite, by far, and I am a little over-fond of grammar. But there was also German, and then Latin. And then of course the challenging i lam Thindrim (Sindarin; literally, "the tongue of the Sindar)...did you actually recognize the language?" she asked with an amused expression, tilting her head as she handed him his Guinness.

"I didn't," he said, taking a sip of his drink, "which is why I looked it up. I hadn't known Sindarin was a real, full language until then." While he had read The Lord of the Rings, and seen the movies, he was only a casual fan; he knew there was far more material out there than he was even aware of. Of course there were going to be people that learned to actually speak it; a number of fictional languages had inspired people to master fluently, and according to Google, there were a fairly decent number who had learned Sindarin. Including, apparently, this lot.

That was the logical, sane explanation, and his conscious mind wasn't willing to properly entertain that there could be any other, because this was the real world. And yet...Ratiri-the-boy would have embraced the 'any other', and some trace of him tried to remain in Ratiri-the-adult, however lunatic it was.

"I'm impressed," said Earlene, misinterpreting his level of comprehension concerning the situation, and assuming that he was merely being coy. "It was lunatic to find out that you could learn it from the internet. I can't imagine why people would bother unless they had to. It's very difficult, unless of course one is an elf. I guess there are Tolkien nutters aplenty. One of these days I'll read the books," she concluded breezily, suddenly interrupted by the oven timer. "Excuse me please, that'll be the roast."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up to his forehead as he forced down the smiles and the laughter that wanted to erupt. Gaining control of himself, he looked over at Ratiri and shrugged to himself. It was like watching a gear mechanism slowly begin to seize up, and he reminded himself to stop enjoying this so much.

 _Unless they had to…? Was it a requirement for living in this community?_ If it was as tied to Tolkien as Ratiri suspected, it would make sense. But to not have read the books, yet live here... But then, Earlene hadn't known about this when she moved here, had she? "Possibly to see if they could," he said, half to himself, half to Lorna and Fionn - Cian, he noticed, seemed to have a tendency to hang back when he felt like it. "The rest of you speak it?"

"I don't," Lorna said. "I've only just got all the materials gathered." She wondered what Earlene's angle was - if she meant to just drop Ratiri into it as though it were all self-evident. It would certainly get the point across. "The alphabet's mad enough on its own. You'd need four bloody calligraphy pens just to write it." Indeed it was so difficult that she was highly tempted to skip it entirely, and focus on learning the language orally. At least that she could actually do, without tying her dyslexic brain in knots she'd never undo. "These two, though, they're fluent." Let Ratiri make of that what he would.

Ratiri didn't know what in hell to make of any of this. Oh, Ratiri-the-child was begging him to just flat-out ask if they were elves, despite the fact that it was rationally impossible - but even Ratiri-the-child conceded he'd look like a nutter if he did and was wrong, and he'd rather not look like a nutter in front of Lorna. The scientist in him knew it was likely not what they would all have it appear, but his gut...his gut told him something else. Something unsettling, but not at all in a bad way.

Thranduil decided that the moment was as ripe as it was likely to get without copious alcohol. "Ratiri, there is no easy way to say it; Earlene had far more trouble with it and we won't even discuss Lorna. You have an opportunity in front of you, to experience something very rare. It requires only two things. One, that you are able to open your mind to considering what lies outside of your usual experience. And the second, that you not betray the considerable trust we are placing in you." With that, he very openly and deliberately moved his long hair behind his ears, revealing their shape. "This is not a joke, nor are we deceiving you," the King said, his eyes boring into those of his guest.

What left Ratiri's mouth did so without consulting his brain: "You are fucking kidding me," he whispered, taking in the ears - they weren't plastic surgery. And Fionn's eyes...he'd never seen eyes naturally that shade of blue before. Cian had enough of the same look about him, though their coloring was quite different - was he actually seeing this? The rational, adult, scientist part of him rebelled against it, but the deeper part, the part that had always hoped, even if it hadn't dared believe... _holy shit._

Lorna cackled. "That's exactly what I said," she said, lightly elbowing him in the side. "A bit louder, too, and in Irish."

Ratiri's brain simply refused to slow down enough to fully process any of this. His first thought was _how? How were they here, in this world, in Ireland? Where had they come from, and when - and how in God's name had Tolkien known about them? Had one done precisely this, and let a human in on things?_

"Somebody, please, explain," he said, a little helplessly.

Thranduil smiled, but his expression was kind. "You are asking yourself the wrong question, Ratiri. It isn't 'how are we here'. We have always been here. It is you humans, that came afterward; we have hidden ourselves away for longer than you can imagine, content to go on with our lives. What you call 'Ireland' was once part of my vast Kingdom. My name is not Fionn, it is Thranduil; we have had to adopt other names to be able to move about at all in your world. I am the last of the Elvenkings, and this small patch of forest is the remnant of my Kingdom; Cian is my sensechal, whose correct name is Thanadir. And we do not know how this...Tolkien knew what he did of our world and our history. It is a mystery to me; Earlene was the one to bring it to our attention, that were were known to humans after a fashion. And how dangerous it would be for us, were it known that we were 'those' elves. We are known, have been known, to the village of Lasg'len since time immemorial, though we have only recently established more open relations. And yes, I am able to hear your thoughts. And Earlene's, and Lorna's. Thanadir could if he wished to try, but given the choice he will prefer not to as it is difficult for him. I am sure you have many questions, and I will answer them if I am able."

 _Thranduil...wait, what?_ Not that Ratiri was terribly familiar with The Lord of the Rings, but he was fairly certain Thranduil was the name of Legolas's father. And that Thranduil was looking at him and nodding, right now...Jesus. That he could hear thoughts, though - oh God. Ratiri frantically searched through his recent memories, trying to recall if he'd thought anything especially obnoxious or embarrassing, and was suddenly very, very glad all his thoughts about Lorna had been mostly pure. The last thing in the world he needed was the King of the damned Elves coming down on him like an overprotective older brother, or father, or...whatever. "You hear everything we think?" he asked.

"He doesn't do it on purpose," Lorna assured him. "With humans, he can't help it. He won't use it or hold it against you, though, even if you think up something bizarre and stupid. Because God knows that's half the shite my mind's come up with."

"This is all…" _a bit much_ , Ratiri thought, and yet he wasn't sorry. This - this would take some getting used to, certainly, but like hell would he walk away. Though the telepathy...that really did make him somewhat uneasy, simply because he could never be sure if he was going to embarrass himself or not. He could be pretty awkward all on his own even when he actually voiced things; what went on in his head was exponentially worse. "Although, if it makes you feel any better, I think people outside would have a hard time believing what you were even if you told them. I - some of us at the pub, we knew there was something different about you, but none of us thought 'elves'." _And here I thought Lorna looked like the fae_ , he thought, shaking his head.

"You're taking it far better than I did," Earlene quipped as she covered the meat to rest and popped in the potatoes. "And before eating, too. Dinner's just ten minutes off. Does anyone besides me want wine? And Lorna, your hand is suspiciously empty at the moment, what's tonight's poison?"

In truth, Ratiri wasn't sure of that. He took a long pull off his mug, the Guinness bitter and welcome on his tongue. This really was all a bit much, and he'd be needing time to come to terms with it, because - well, because. He'd just found out something he'd always thought was fiction was not only real, but had probably been around for ages before humans even migrated north of the equator.

Lorna gave him a ginger pat on the hand. "You just...take it all in," she said. "Earlene, if you've got any'v that wine, I'd love to try it." There was no way it would equal elf wine, but the elf wine had made her curious about the human variety.

Ratiri looked down at her. She seemed to find this so normal, as did Earlene. How long had it taken them? Neither, so far as he knew, had been here terribly long - Lorna definitely hadn't. _How, after only a fortnight, did she regard this so easily?_

"You're going out into the world now," he said, looking at Thranduil and Thanadir. "It must seem so odd to you." He could scarcely imagine it, going from forest halls to pavement, cars, electricity. They both seemed quite at home in Earlene's cottage, but their first trip in a van might well have been an...experience. "Why now, after all this time?"

"That was the first question Lorna asked," said Thranduil with a grin. "I guess you could say, Earlene started it like a pebble rolling down a hillside, by moving here. It caused us, or rather me, to understand just how much your world had advanced...you must realize that to our eyes, your society changed little, for a very long time. I felt it was prudent to...understand what it was we lived in the midst of, now. The last time I failed to understand, the forests were lost; I will not willingly make that same mistake twice. We care only about the preservation of our woods, and what little remains of our way of life."

One thing was for certain: when Ratiri got home, he was ordering every single piece of literature Tolkien ever published about Middle-Earth and its people. Thranduil had damn good reason to be curious; the world really had changed immensely in less than a century, which even by human standards was a fairly rapid advance. To an elf, a century was probably just about enough time to sneeze. "How are you finding it? Lorna said you had been to Dublin - what do you make of the modern human world?" He took another long pull off his Guinness, the alcohol settling him some.

"Thanadir? How would you answer?" the King asked.

Earlene had poured wine for everyone but Ratiri, and while Earlene now knew that human wine was at best flavored water to the ellyn, they did seem to still appreciate the taste. Though, why that would be the case, after the delicious elixir that she would now never not crave, she had no idea. She quickly pressed the glass into the seneschal's hand, before doing so would cause her to interrupt a sermon. To her surprise, she'd found that _if_ a topic interested him, Thanadir could and did respond with a tremendous amount of analytical detail...so much so that she now was careful what she asked him.

After taking an appreciative sip, the seneschal began to answer in his charming monotone. Which was, for the record, beginning to acquire a slight lilt that made it even more charming. "As a people, you have not changed. You are still a society comprised of very good-hearted and very bad-hearted individuals. Your technology has increased your life span but not for all. Even with your short years, your ingenuity has been amazing. Your greatest skill has been the gathering and sharing of information, and your ability grows ever greater as your learning increases. Many inventions and devices are marvels, like this computer. Like the television, like the car. But you have also put your learning to evil uses. You do not care for the earth beneath your feet as you should, nor the water nor the air. Nor do you always care for each other. To elves, this is very difficult to understand. I mean no disrespect to you, but that is my answer."

Ratiri was somewhat surprised he thought of them so charitably - the negative things he said were all quite true, but they were less than he'd thought. "There are a number of us who wish that we did take better care of the earth," he said, "and each other. I was lucky enough to spend my childhood around them, though I had to move to the city as a teenager, and I hated every second of it. I came to Ireland to get away from pollution and crowds, somewhere the air was cleaner."

He shook his head, finishing his drink, only to nearly drop it when something spiky latched onto his ankle. Peering down revealed a tiny fluffball of a kitten, staring up at him with round eyes. Oh God that was cute. "I didn't realize you had a ball of fluff with legs, Earlene," he said, kneeling to pick up the little creature.

"Careful, he'll try to crawl down your collar," Lorna warned. "He's cute, but he's a monster." _Thranduil, should I tell him he needs to really promise that he'll keep all this to himself, before he knows anything deep?_ she asked. It might sound, at least at first, a bit better if the stipulation came from her; while Scotland's issues with monarchy weren't half so vehement as Ireland's, they were still very much there, and it might make things easier if she was the opener to Thranduil setting that rule as king of his people.

Earlene smiled. "That's Tail. It is eternally amusing to me that the Sindarin word for 'feet' is 'tail'. He has such little paws, and was abandoned and living outside the pub in town," she said adoringly.

 _Do as you feel is best, Lorna. But I can tell you, he is more than capable of understanding what would befall us, should he fail to do so. He wishes us no harm._

Ratiri eyed the kitten, which eyed him back. "The Sindarin word for 'feet' is 'tail'?" he asked. "That sounds like it ought to be part of a joke." The kitten reached out and bopped his nose with one tiny paw, and Lorna just about melted.

 _Well, if he knows what he's doing, I'll leave him to it_ , she said. _I don't want to push him with anything yet._ Yes, he seemed fascinated by them all, but she didn't want to stress him out when it was so new. Because it was new, and she well understood the human tendency to belatedly panic once presented with something entirely outside one's experience. Once he'd had a day or so to digest it, she'd bring up...well, anything that might need bringing up. Aloud, she said, "I wish I could keep one of those little things, but I'm not home enough."

"Indira's allergic, so I can't get one so long as I'm sleeping on her couch," Ratiri said, setting the kitten down. Naturally, the little critter scampered across the floor and tried to climb Lorna's leg - had she been wearing jeans, it wouldn't have been an issue, but leggings, she found, were not nearly so robust. Biting back a stream of very creative invective, she hastily grabbed Tail and picked him up, only for him to tug some loose thread with his claw and immediately snag a run right up the fabric.

"Thanks, cat," she said, picking him up and glowering at him. Being a kitten, he just sat and looked cute, mewing quietly for good measure. "You're lucky you're so adorable."

"Did he scratch you?" Ratiri asked, setting aside his empty mug.

"Not much. Just wrecked my new pants. I just got the bloody things last night." She was pretty sure no fabric should unravel that easily. Christ, she needed another half a hydrocodone, which meant this would be her only glass of wine for the evening. "Take this monstrosity, will you? I've got to pop into the kitchen for a moment."

Ratiri took the fluffy little thing, so tiny it could practically curl up in his palm. A thought occurred to him. "Do elves keep cats?" he asked. Domestic cats, so far as he could recall, had only been, well, domesticated for some five thousand years.

"They do now," Earlene quipped, even more amused.

Thanadir smiled. "We had this same discussion. Long ago, no; cats were not like this. But we like Tail very much," he said, wiggling his finger gently at the little creature. "A lady in the village keeps cats as well," he said. "But they are...different. They drool."

While cat discussion was transpiring, Thranduil's eyes followed Lorna and narrowed. _There is no reason to suffer, my friend, or be embarrassed concerning the cause of your discomfort. All I need to do is touch you; I can easily come behind you for a moment in the kitchen. No one else would know. It is the least I can offer against the destruction of your clothing,_ he mused. _What is the point of knowing an elf if you do not take advantage of it?_

Earlene clucked her disapproval of the fabric. "Did those come from Amazon? Because if they did, send them right back for a refund. It is ridiculous, that a kitten claw could cause that to happen; surgical gauze is made better. I wouldn't put up with that for a minute. I'll send you the link to the brand I've gotten before; they can survive anything."

 _Oh, dammit..._ truth be told, Lorna was embarrassed, which surprised her; in the past, she'd never cared if her male friends knew she was surfing the crimson tide, but there was a difference between knowing and knowing. _Please_ , she sighed, reflecting that actual embarrassment was not fun at all. Normally she was a person with pretty much no shame, but being around a telepath while riding the cotton pony was...awkward.

"They did," she said. "Here I thought buying things on Amazon would be easier, since they actually have sizes for tiny people, but I hope the quality isn't all like this, or I'll have wasted time and money." She poured herself a glass of water at the sink, mainly to distract herself. Thank God Ratiri didn't know this, at least; yeah, he was a doctor, but still.

Thranduil stood up, ostensibly to procure another bottle of wine in the pantry, but at the last moment turned and briefly laid a hand on the small of Lorna's back. _Feel better. Not to be indelicate, but we elves have a way to eliminate the entire event in a matter of minutes. If you wish, ask Earlene about it; I fear I have annoyed you enough on such a personal subject. Please forgive me; it is difficult for me to see one I care about in distress._ Just as swiftly he moved away, and the clinking of bottles was the only thing that gave evidence of his activity.

The relief was instantaneous, and Lorna shut her eyes. _Thank you_ , she said. _That is better_. While on the one hand, eliminating it in a manner of minutes sounded brilliant, but on the other, she was sure it would be embarrassing. She really would ask Earlene later, though.

The jangling of the timer interrupted conversation once again. "Alright everyone, that's the dinner bell," Earlene declared. "Please have a seat at the table, which will be the only safe place to be inside of thirty seconds." Thranduil, having been the recipient of more than one crashing collision against his wife when she was preparing food, needed no further encouragement, and whisked the wine corker off the counter on his way there. Earlene happily let him have the head of the table; there were really not enough places to sit to waste time on who sat where. The warmed basket of bread was already there, as was the salad. Her duchess potatoes were piped into individual crème brûlée dishes, and she came along to place one on each plate, issuing warnings that the ceramic was very hot, and for everyone to please serve themselves the salad and vegetable. Before the bowl had traversed the table, a perfect medium-rare sliced roast beef was laid out in front of Thranduil, who was instructed to serve it. Salt, pepper; everything met with approval to her critical eye. "Does anyone want anything else by way of drinks or...anything at all, before I sit down?" she asked politely. When the expected "No's and No Thank You's" reached her ears, she declared victory and happily seated herself. Unbeknownst to Thanadir, a Chocolate Charlotte was at this moment chilling in the refrigerator.

It had been a long time since Ratiri had sat down to a meal this nice outside of a restaurant; neither he nor Indira bothered cooking anything beyond the basics; her husband was the chef in the family. "It looks wonderful," he said, and meant it. Sight of the beef almost made him smile; the fights his mam and dad had got in over it when he was little were a bit legendary in the neighborhood. Mam won at home, as always, but sometimes the neighbors would actually come stand at the back gate to listen to her shouting in Hindi.

"Earlene's a fantastic cook," Lorna said, sitting just as he did. "I've got spoiled, staying in Lasg'len. I'd try to get some pointers, but I know from experience there's not much use. Stick me next to a stove by myself and it all goes to hell." She felt the kitten take a light swipe at her dangling foot, but at least if he was there, he wasn't causing mischief anywhere else.

Earlene could not resist. "That's not entirely true, Lorna. You make a mean French toast. And now I know that bread can fly," she teased.

Lorna burst out laughing. "True," she said, loading some salad onto her plate before passing the bowl to Ratiri. "And then I fell in your sink."

He eyed her, dishing some salad before passing it across to Thanadir. "You what?"

"Earlene has a sink you could drown a small child in," she said, laughing again. "I was washing up the dishes and just...fell in. That's the joy'v being tiny."

"Yes, well, at least you don't have to duck when you go through low-hanging doors," Ratiri said, fighting laughter and barely winning. "I have in fact knocked myself out that way, when I was a teenager."

"Ow," said Earlene sympathetically. "Just, ow. Have you siblings, Ratiri?"*

He shook his head, passing his plate to Lorna, so she could hold it out to Thranduil for some of the roast beef, once she'd had her own filled. "No, just me," he said. "Mam had such a difficult pregnancy with me that she decided one was enough. Lorna, I know you have a sister - I've met her -"

"Sorry," Lorna muttered, wincing a bit

"-do you have any siblings, Earlene?" He didn't quite yet dare ask the elves that sort of question; he had to wrap his brain a little more around, well, elves.

"I have a brother, two years older. I would tell you that we are estranged, except I was just contacted by him for the first time in over twelve years. That was who the letter was from, that you were kind enough to find in the mailbox the other day, Lorna. Anything else remains to be seen. He is a neurologist, last I knew. And unless I am mistaken both Thranduil and Thanadir are only children as well...though please correct me if I am wrong." She was now frowning, struggling to remember if she'd ever asked that, about Thanadir...but a placid nod from the seneschal seemed to confirm what she'd said.

Every neurologist Ratiri had ever met had been insufferable, so he was somewhat predisposed to dislike this brother anyway. Both elves were only children... _how many children did most elves have?_ He had a rather hazy idea, from reading years ago, that the answer tended to be 'not many'. "I always wanted siblings as a child," he said, "until I got in a fight with one of my friends, and realized how nice it was to go home to a room I didn't share with anyone."

Lorna dissolved into laughter, fortunately not actually choking on potato. "I grew up with three others in a tiny house," she said. "There wasn't anything that didn't get shared at some point, up to and including toothbrushes. None'v us knew then just how nasty that is."

Ratiri winced; yes, that was in fact quite nasty, but Lorna was still alive. He'd learned snatches of her history, here and there, at the pub; he knew she'd spent her childhood poor, and her adolescence on the street, so little comments like that didn't shock him - and clearly she was fine with everyone else knowing about this, which relieved him. If she found it easier to communicate the harder things, the lighter ones shouldn't be too much trouble.

Thranduil decided that precious time was wasting, and steered the conversation back. "Elves more often than not have only one child," Ratiri. "Though there are exceptions. We were never known for our ability to increase in population swiftly, so naturally the opposite happened."

"Do you know of any others out there?" Ratiri asked. "Other elven civilizations, or other beings that were around in the First or Second Ages?" If there was still one elven enclave, there could well be another - there were areas in Canada and Russia especially that had huge swathes of ancient forest that humans still likely hadn't even seen.

Thranduil shook his head. "By 'out there', if you mean on Earth, I do not see how. The Elven realms of Imladris and Lórien were abandoned swiftly once the Fourth Age began. Ours was the only other elven realm of Ennor, that you often call Middle Earth. It is possible of course that scattered elves linger on, faded. But if you mean are the elves of those former Realms still alive, then yes; to my knowledge all of our people except for the handful of us here dwell in Aman. Valinor, you may have heard it called. You seem somewhat familiar with our history?" he asked hopefully.

"Somewhat," Ratiri said. "I read The Lord of the Rings - one of the histories of Middle-Earth - fifteen years ago, but I know there's a lot more material out there. I know that most of you sailed, but I had thought you all had. It makes me wonder if there any...any hobbits."

"I'd bloody love to meet a hobbit," Lorna said. "They're short, they like to eat and drink...we'd get along great. Hobbits would make great Irishmen, come to that."

He wasn't going to make a crack about her height, he wasn't...he knew from Big Jamie just how much she detested that, so to it he said nothing.

"I suppose anything is possible," mused Thranduil. "With us having isolated ourselves out of necessity, for all I know the Onodrim are still walking about. The Ents. And yes, the Halflings would make respectable Irishmen, come to think about it. Though, they preferred to eat more than drink, and here it seems the other way around," he noted. "Most elves did sail. We were caught up in a sort of circle, here. I vowed to my people that I would never leave them, and so I remained. And too long ago to count, we could no longer decide if they remained because of me, or I because of them. But we were content, and all our needs were met; there was not an impetus to do otherwise. And so here we yet are. I suppose we fell victim to something shared by many; we like our home, and without ever having cause to leave it, we did not."

Earlene thought about this, about the human tendency to want to call someplace home and just...stay, especially when that home was one that was well-loved. It was difficult to find fault with the reasoning; anyone who claimed not to understand that was kidding themselves or had an attachment disorder.

Ratiri had always been delighted by the Ents, while sad that the events of The Two Towers were something of a swan song for them. Still… "There are many worse reasons," he said, thinking of how his mother was willing to completely uproot herself and travel halfway around the world for the sake of his father. To stay, or to go, for those you love...he wasn't sure there was better motivation. "How many of you are still here?"

Beneath the table, the kitten had decided that biting Lorna's leg was a fantastic idea. Since he was tiny and so were his teeth, she didn't mind at first, but soon enough she was doing her best to surreptitiously jar him loose without kicking anyone. This, naturally, meant she kicked Ratiri, who then wound up with a kitten on his leg. The thickness of his trousers at least meant he didn't get a calf full of claws, but still. He scooted his chair out so he could disentangle the kitten's claws, holding up the little fluffball. "You," he said, "are not helping."

Tail mewed, far too adorably, and scurried off as soon as Ratiri set him down...right under Earlene's chair.

Earlene glowered. "That is enough of you, little one." Reaching down, she deftly snagged the errant fluffball in her hand, and excused herself. A can of gourmet kitten food and a saucer later, both items were taken to the office where he could eat, do what came after eating, and then hopefully settle down into his kitten bed and fall asleep. As she knew the answer to Ratiri's question, she felt she could forego hearing the response.

This time Thandir spoke. "We are about two hundred. Nothing, compared to so long ago. And yet we are a family."

Everyone but Thanadir had finished their food, and Earlene took stock of the table. Perhaps it was better to say, Thanadir was finding new things to eat. While she had no intention of shorting his food, she decided to cast her net upon the waters. "There is a chocolate dessert," she announced. "Who would like to have tea with it? I apologize, I am not set up for coffee at all, Ratiri." As anticipated, the seneschal's eyebrows raised in enthusiasm and he now stopped glancing furtively at the remains of the roast. _Sure god he's cute_ , Earlene thought, for at least the hundredth time.

"Tea would be lovely, if it's not too much trouble," Ratiri said, hoping he still had enough room for whatever piece of deliciousness was to follow this meal. Two hundred...not so many at all, to living a forest that large, yet neither was it only a handful. A small village worth. There were enough of them that it didn't sound, to him, totally tragic.

"D'you need help, Earlene?" Lorna asked. A glance at her leg told her these leggings might as well go for dusters, and serve as an object lesson in why cheap things were usually cheap.

"If it's not trouble, you could clear off the plates. Don't even think of doing the dishes, though", she smirked. "I'll get the food; there are clean plates and forks for dessert."

The kettle was put on, and in the interest of visual harmony, a teapot was prepared instead of mugs with bags. And, she got out a far finer tea than they drank ordinarily; loose-leaf African Rooibos, with sugar and a small pitcher of cream. Soon all of it was where it needed to be with Lorna's help, and she brought out the Charlotte and placed it in front of Thranduil to serve. Thanadir looked as though he might cry for happiness; Earlene had deliberately doubled up the recipe into a much larger incarnation of its usual self. She'd no doubt at all that as rich as it was, Thanadir would be able to polish a quarter of the thing himself. He seemed to manage four human servings of just about anything with zero difficulty. Though, Earlene noted with approval that Lorna's romantic interest was a good eater as well. She'd always felt vaguely suspicious of males that could not put away a proper meal; there was something just wrong about it.

Once everyone was bravely soldiering on through the rich mousse filling, Thranduil reached into his tunic pocket, and deftly tossed a small pouch to land in front of Lorna's dessert plate. "Lorna, it is more than time these went to Shane. You are to promise me that you will keep your perspective and remember that you are far more important. And if you do not, I will give you hugs, and Thanadir will make you more dresses to wear." It was the best threat he felt he could manage.

Lorna's expression of abject horror at both of these statements made Ratiri wonder what the hell had been going on out here already. Though, if hugging someone was some form of punishment...he was certain he would find out, sooner or later. Meanwhile it was all he could do not to laugh, because Lorna actually twitched before opening the little bag.

"You are fucking kidding me," she said, taking out a ruby. "Keep my perspective, he says. Keep my perspective about this thing that's probably worth more than everything I've ever owned ten times over, he says. I'm sorry, Thranduil, but while I'll ditch this lot if I absolutely have to, I'm not just going to toss it over." If for whatever reason, God forbid, it came down so something she thought she couldn't handle, she'd cut and run - though she also couldn't imagine any circumstances in which that might actually happen. "This is the other part'v my job," she said to Ratiri. "I know all sorts'v shady people. My old mate Shane, he fences shite, so he's going to be our gems guy." She hoped; it wasn't that she feared he'd turn it down so much as that he didn't run in the circles necessary to sell something worth this much. At least he could put her in touch with someone who could, but she'd rather deal with him.

Ratiri stared at the ruby, and the bag, and at Lorna. "You mean to go take those somewhere alone? You don't have a...a guard, or something?" Nobody in the human world traveled with something that valuable on their own.

"I don't need one," Lorna said. "Trust me. I've got Mick's van and steel-toed boots."

Ratiri shook his head. This really was all a bit much; he was sitting with elves, elves who handed out precious gems like they were marbles (and then inexplicably swore to use hugs and dresses as punishments, which...what. Just...what.) Though...that probably meant Lorna had some measure of touch-aversion, which mean he'd need to be careful himself. He didn't want to freak her out or piss her off by tapping her on the shoulder.

"We are not quite as deranged as we seem, Ratiri," Thranduil said. "As you might have guessed, our wealth is not in Euros and we are still in the beginning stages of being able to function in human society; for this we need money, and people without a legal identity cannot exactly waltz into one of your banks and ask to please trade a jewel. Lorna has our trust. Gems are not exactly as marbles to us, but I would have her understand that her welfare and safety means far more than any of those. I have more gems, but there is only one Lorna. And while I could offer to have her guarded, I will leave it to you to discover how well that would be accepted. As for the rest, well, Lorna is Lorna," he concluded. Thanadir nodded happily in agreement, while scooping up the last forkful of Charlotte.

"I dunno, we can be pretty deranged," Lorna muttered into her teacup, thinking of the elf wine, but she was pleased nevertheless. The concept of family beyond Mairead remained new, but she was adapting to it now, aided each time someone said something...well, like that. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling, and fortunately it was not the kitten trying to climb down her shirt.

That Thranduil would have such care for a human employee made Ratiri think either the elves had changed a great deal, or the books had misrepresented them. From what he'd got out of Lord of the Rings, few elves cared what happened to anyone who wasn't an elf, but Thranduil wasn't just spouting empty words. It counted for more than he possibly knew, even with his telepathy, because it said more about him than he likely realized. "Why would you not want to be guarded, Lorna?" he asked, though he had a fairly good idea he already knew - he'd heard stories from Big Jamie. And Michael. And Orla. And Mick the Drunk and his twin, Alec. From pretty much everyone, actually.

"If I had a guard, I'd spend too much time making sure no shite happened to them," she said, with a smile and expression that were entirely serious. "With some things, I'm best on my own, and especially going into certain places. Go in with some kind'v backup, you look afraid, and if you look afraid, you might wind up with a shiv in your kidney."

He wasn't certain if she was serious about that or not, but it probably was best not pressed. Her eyes, in the light, were so very green...Thranduil no doubt found it hilarious that he'd thought Lorna the fae-like one, but to a human looking at her, he couldn't be blamed. _Um...Thranduil?_ he thought, having no actual idea how to speak telepathically. _Does Lorna have some kind of touch-aversion, and how do I not step on it? Because he seriously didn't want to startle her._ According to Big Jamie and Mairead, a startled Lorna usually wound leaving whoever startled her with a bruise at least, or dislocated shoulder at worst. (Big Jamie still wasn't sure just how exactly she'd managed to do that to Michael, but apparently neither was she.)

Thranduil's voice flared in his mind, which was surprising as hell even though he had asked the questions. _If you are asking me if Lorna dislikes being touched, the answer is generally yes. Until, that is, another has earned her trust. I have noticed that contact fares better if she is asked first, or informed of another's intentions before the attempt is made. I am sorry that I cannot say more; I do not betray the confidences of others. But I believe that with a little time, she would tell you herself._

 _Thank you_ , Ratiri said. _That's all I need to know right now._ When he'd asked about her in Baile, he'd been given more information than she probably would have wanted; he'd leave the rest to her. If there was one thing he'd noted about Ireland, it was that people gossiped as much as they did back in Scotland - though he'd yet to find anything malicious about it in Baile, at least. Lorna was well-liked there, for all she wasn't a native; it had given him hope that he too would manage to be able to truly call it home, in time. Once he was no longer sleeping on his cousin's sofa, anyway; the thing simply was not built for someone his height - but then, few things were. Should Thranduil choose to travel out into the world, he would find there was no such thing as a hotel bed long enough for someone six-foot-five.

Lorna was still sorting through the gems, muttering a bit to herself. Shane was going to shit a brick at this lot; it would probably be best if she brought him a bottle of something appallingly alcoholic. "Why would someone want to buy a ruby this big?" she wondered aloud. "What would they do with it? I know there are loads'v rich people who like to buy something purely because it's expensive, but something like this...Jesus." Rich people were weird. Really weird.

"Probably no one ever did buy that, Lorna. The dwarves mined gems because that is what the children of Aulë loved. And like as not a dragon sat on it for several centuries somewhere along the way, and perhaps I traded for it or was given it. Or my father before me, or Elu Thingol before him. What is in my possession came through many channels in a bygone world. Who can say? But...they are beautiful to look on. What else are gems good for? They cannot be eaten."

"I've rented jewels like that, to wear," Earlene quipped. "For fancy parties hosted by wealthy people. I'd say the truth is between what each of you just said. Rich people want to impress rich people..but gems and jewelry are pretty." She shrugged, obviously not caring either way.

"A dragon?" Lorna and Ratiri said in unison. But then, she thought, of course there was, if everything else was true. Ratiri's mind immediately went to Smaug. Holy shit. "You know," Lorna said, "you could eat a gem, but it would feel really awful coming out the other end."

Ratiri choked on his tea, though fortunately he didn't spit it out. "I doubt a dragon would notice either way," he said. "I know this sounds daft, given that I'm sitting in the same room as elves, but dragons are hard to believe in still."

"Consider yourselves fortunate; the dragons of Morgoth were terrible foes. And it stands to reason that as some of what I have came from the hoard of Erebor, some of it was sat on by Smaug. They existed once, and the films Earlene showed me, while lacking accuracy in some respects, did a very fair job of portraying a fire-drake."

That...that was a hell of a thing for Lorna to wrap her brain around. As a little girl, she and her oldest brother had spent one whole summer pretending they were stalking Smaug (who was, in actuality, their da), working out the best ways to kill him (in retrospect, she'd been a very morbid child).

Ratiri shook himself. Smaug had been quite fantastic onscreen; seeing him in real life would have been quite another. "You've given me a lot of food for thought," he said. "More than I can digest just yet. Thank you - all of you, for letting me in on this. I always wanted to believe - have you seen The X-Files? If not, you should; I'm sure you'd find them fascinating, given all they have to say about humanity and human nature. I always wanted to believe, but I grew up, and you're not meant to believe when you grow up, not if you're a self-respecting scientist. This is...more than I could have expected."

Earlene snorted. "Try being a self-respecting lawyer," she said, shaking her head. "Welcome to our little corner of the world, Ratiri. I am glad you could join us, and I look forward to knowing you better. There is more, when you are ready. It really does take some getting used to but...I would not go back. Not for anything. And, they can't watch the X-files yet because they need to finish Star Trek...but maybe later."

The thought of elves watching Star Trek was a rather peculiar one, and almost one that simply did not compute. Being allowed into this corner of the world was possibly the most fascinating thing that had ever happened to him. "This is everything I always wished I could believe in, but was certain could not be real."

"It doesn't get much realer," Lorna said, "but I should get you home before the weather gets too nasty." She could hear the light patter of raindrops on the roof, and wanted to be there and home again before it turned into a deluge. For the first time in eleven years, thought of driving in a storm didn't unnerve her, and she sent Thranduil a grateful look. She hadn't actually known she'd had that worry until it was gone. "I can bring you back later, when you're ready. I know this is a lot to work through."

It was, but Ratiri knew he could do it. For the first time in years, he no longer felt aimless - no longer had reason to just go through the motions. Elves, magic...Lorna. He knew so little of her still, but he felt drawn to her, just as he'd been drawn to Katherine so long ago. Lorna had suffered and lost, and understood in a way few others could have done - and she had found this place, these people, who had taken her for their own in so short a time. "I'd like that," he said, rising. "Thank you, Lorna, Earlene, Thranduil, Thanadir - thank you for all of this, including that lovely meal."

Earlene shook his hand warmly, not being sure if he was the hugging type. "We were very glad to have you, Ratiri. I know Lorna will drive carefully, and we will see you soon. Both ellyn shook his hand as well, and then their guest and Lorna were gone.

 _Drive carefully, my fearless friend,_ Lorna heard in her head as they backed down the driveway. It took effort not to snort, but she managed.

 _I will_ , she said, flicking on the windscreen wipers. Headed back toward the village, she cast a side glance at Ratiri. "You can't tell anyone," she said. "I mean, not anyone - even Mairead and Big Jamie don't know. If this lot chooses to let more'v us in on this, it's got to be their decision."

"I understand," Ratiri said, and he genuinely did. "Why did they let me in, though?"

She was not about to say that it was largely because of her, because _gah, no thanks._ "Thranduil saw something in your mind," she said, and it was true; just not the whole truth. "He knew you were trustworthy. He doesn't tell anyone what he sees in other people's minds, so don't worry that he'll go blabbing about what you've thought to any'v us. He hasn't told Earlene my shit, and she told me she'd never ask. He only shares if we give him permission."

That really was rather a relief. While Ratiri hadn't had any...undue...thoughts, he would still rather Lorna not know that he thought her like a fairy. That was embarrassment he just didn't need.

The motorway didn't have too much traffic - nobody would want to be out on such a miserable night. Ratiri had too much to turn over in his head, and Lorna let him do it; God knew she'd needed time herself, after she found out the elves were in fact actually elves, and the village wasn't just completely cracked. He'd taken it rather better than she had (but then, he hadn't watched Thranduil heal Earlene from bloody alcohol poisoning).

"I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" she said, when she dropped Ratiri by Doc Barry's house. "If you've got more questions then." She was entirely certain he would, too.

Right now, Ratiri's only question was when he could go back, but it wasn't one to be asked yet. "Thank you, Lorna," he said. "I - well, to say I enjoyed that is an understatement. I'll call."

The look he was giving her just about melted her sappy heart, and she held off her pleased grin until she'd turned the van around. That had gone better than she'd hoped; he was startled, yes, and maybe a bit overwhelmed, but he had enjoyed it. He'd enjoyed it, rather than being frightened or put off; while she hadn't worried it would scare him, she had been a tiny bit concerned he'd find it way too weird and book it.

But he hadn't. He hadn't, and if he was going to become more present in her life (which oh, she'd hoped) he'd need, by necessity, to come into this part of it.

When was the last time she'd been this simply happy? She couldn't remember, but she hoped it would last.

"Well, that seemed to go off as hoped, though only you truly know, Thranduil. And while I will not ask you to break confidences, is it allowed to ask if my impression is correct?" Earlene looked up at her husband while bringing the last of the dishes into the sink to soak.

"It is allowed. I believe it is only fair that I answer you, given the degree to which I imposed on your good nature. I will simply say that I could not have hoped for better. That he will keep his silence, that he hungers to know more but for the right reasons; those I believe are what you wish to know? There is no reason he cannot be brought next to the Halls, when he returns."

"Yes. Thank you." It was...different, to her, this time. There had been a reason for Lorna, a fairly calculated one. That they had all become friends with her to the degree they'd had was not something originally anticipated. But Ratiri; there was no need for Ratiri at all, except for Lorna. And while it was amusing in a sense, it also met a certain kind of logic. Lorna clearly didn't want elves to be her life, not in the way Earlene had chosen. And yet to have her in their circle yet expect her to remain alone, to have to shut out all others to keep their secrets...it wasn't fair. She hoped very much that her friend found what she desired in this man. While she was hardly an expert on romantic relationships, to see the degree to which Lorna's departed husband had meant so much to her, and how long she'd clung to it...that had been hard to see. And Thanadir, she mused, looking up at him briefly...he was as married in his own way to Thranduil as she was. Soon enough the dishes were getting washed, and Thanadir had appeared at her side with a dishtowel, insisting on taking over drying duties. She rolled her eyes and began handing him the rinsed plates and glasses, one at a time.

Finally, they were all seated again on the sofa, having agreed on two more episodes of Star Trek. Earlene found herself somewhat eagerly wishing for them to get through the original series, so that they could start on The Next Generation; she liked that show even better. And then her computer jangled with an email notification. With some trepidation, she looked at the screen...a part of her was anticipating and dreading Aidan's reply. Yet this was not Aidan, but Lorna. "Lorna wants to know how we felt it all went," said Earlene with a smile. Feeling a little silly, she wrote back. "Six thumbs up, and the Great Gates will open next time he comes. If you figure he won't have a heart attack, that is...see you soon :-) -E"

Lorna read the email three times, grinning. She shut her laptop, snuggling down into her blanket nest on Mick's highly uncomfortable sofa. Yes, she was happy, and for once in her life, happiness didn't scare her.


	29. Chapter 29

To Earlene's surprise and pleasure, the next few days were treated for her as though they were some kind of vacation. Her daily Sindarin sessions with Thanadir were changed, and took the form of walks with him in the woods. He would speak to her about their surroundings, giving her time to work out what he'd said, asking simpler questions and giving her a chance to answer. This was so much more enjoyable, there were hardly words, and she found she remembered better, and absorbed new words better, in this manner. Thranduil took her running, and continued to instruct her at swordsmanship. And to her surprise, announced that she would learn a second skill; knives. Knives one threw at a target, more specifically; apparently some kind of prerequisite was learning to spin the blades in her hand while still keeping all her digits. Feeling that her life around culinary knives should at least provide some advantage, she did as she was asked and found it harder than it looked. "You will need practice, meluieg, but I believe you have it in you," he said proudly, pleased with her initial efforts.

There was time for relaxing, and movies, and time alone. She was afraid to even say anything about it, unless it all somehow vanished. On the fifth afternoon after they had hosted Ratiri, Earlene found herself with time to do whatever she wanted, and brought out the box of her video collection. "Hedwig and the Angry Inch," she whispered, looking longingly at it. _Did she dare?_ She loved to sing along to the songs, she loved everything about it but...the mere thought of Thanadir within a mile of this film sent vague waves of terror through her. Blushing furiously at the memory of "The Erection at the Intersection", she could only imagine what she'd feel like if she had to explain this. And yet the ellyn were busy at the Halls, it was not likely that there would be a safer time.

Feeling unaccountably cheerful, she shoved in the disc and went to heat some tea, listening to the hideous DVD intro that repeated itself every thirty seconds.

"What poor and unfortunate creature had to die in order for you to wear that?" Earlene imitated flawlessly. "My Aunt Trudy?"

Giggling, she returned with her mug and sat on the sofa, her eyes shining with happiness. The absurdity trailed along, and then came one of her favorites. She sang, entranced:

 _"When the earth was still flat, and the clouds made of fire, and mountains stretched up to the sky, sometimes higher….folks in the earth were like big rolling kegs, they had two sets of arms, they had two sets of legs…"_

which was why when warm hands rested on her shoulders she screamed, accidentally tossed the remote into the air, fumbled to catch it again, and hit STOP in a desperate hurry. _Nooooo…_

They came around to each side of her, like wolves circling prey, and plunked down on the sofa.

"I thought you were busy for some hours," she said as casually as possible.

"We finished early," said Thanadir brightly. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing, just a silly movie. You wouldn't like it," she said too hurriedly, staring fixedly straight ahead, knowing that her flaming cheeks were betraying her even as she spoke.

"Don't you think you should let us decide that, meluieg?"

Something in his voice caused her to look at Thranduil, and see the Cheshire cat grin plastered onto his face. "You cannot want to do this to me," she whispered. "Please." She almost felt near tears.

"Earlene, look at me please," she heard from her other side. Swallowing, she slowly turned to face the seneschal, who took her face in his hands. "You must stop thinking of me as a child who cannot know about all of the human world. I am told that soon, we are to travel to your city. I must understand more, if I am to meet my obligations to my...to Thranduil. And to you. You do not wish me to see this film because you are embarrassed that it will offend my sensibilities, is that correct?"

The barest nod was all she could manage; her cheeks were still burning. And her chin was beginning to quiver. "There is nothing about which to feel this way, Earlene." He pulled her to him, and gave her a chance to try to calm down and return her brain to some kind of order. Thanadir looked up at Thranduil, who nodded, and who also placed his hand on her back.

 _Thanadir, you have no idea what you're saying_ , she thought.

Thranduil tried another tactic. "Meluieg, if you cannot tell us these things, who can? We must understand the human world, even the parts that are unfamiliar to us."

After a minute, she took a deep breath and pushed away from Thanadir, hardening her resolve as it seemed she had no other choice. "All right. Fine. I'll get over myself. But if I felt the way I did, it was out of respect for you, Thanadir. If this is truly what you wish, I will explain; we will start this over from the beginning. You are to tell me when you do not understand. Much of this movie is about a kind of music to which humans listen, called 'rock and roll'. Or at least, much of this movie that is not about sex, is about music. I will put the subtitles on to help you understand what is said." But first, she stood up, taking her tea with her. She opened her bottle of whisky and poured a huge glug into it and added some sugar. And then another glug for good measure. Returning as Thranduil watched her with raised eyebrows, she lifted up the remote and started the film over.

It took four hours, to watch the hour and a half film. She only pointed out a single quote to them as the absolute most important. "Listen carefully, because this is what the entire film is about. Humans seek to feel whole, and many of us have no idea how to go about it. We only know that something is missing:

 _"It is clear that I must find my other half. But is it a he or a she? What does this person look like? Identical to me? Or somehow complementary? Does my other half have what I don't? Did he get the looks? The luck? The love? Were we really separated forcibly or did he just run off with the good stuff? Or did I? Will this person embarrass me? What about sex? Is that how we put ourselves back together again? Or can two people actually become one again?"_

And four hours later, she had expounded on the Cold War and the Berlin Wall, cultural icons, erections, penises, clay breasts, full medical examinations, glam cosmetics, penile amputations and sex change operations, transgenders, genderqueers, lesbians, gays, transsexuals, transvestites (with a special side emphasis on wigs), sex as a tool of power (with at least one sideways glance at her husband), prostitution, molestation and child abuse, sugar daddies, anal sex, oral sex, feminism, menstruation, religious imagery, cultural references, older technology, and what seemed like no fewer than twenty euphemisms for assorted human sexual acts; including her personal favorite, "the jobs we call blow."

With an initial slight amount of inner glee she watched both of them begin to pale a little, but she pressed on, feeling only partially sorry for their discomfiture. While she regarded them deeply, they both needed to learn (at least a little) to respect her knowledge as well, and that while she may not be however many thousands of years old, she knew things about this world they would never have a way of understanding. She declined to tell them that the palette of sexual behavior on the part of humans could be so, so much more than this, descending into an utter depravity at the extreme end of the spectrum.

At the end of it, she faced them and took both their hands. "I have done as you asked me to. Please consider that in the future, when I seek to not share some aspects of humanity with you, that it is not because I believe you incapable of knowing, or because I am ashamed, but rather because you are beautiful and pure; untouched by many of our struggles and philosophical quests. Your innocence is something rare, and special. Do not be in too much of a hurry to lose it, especially when the knowledge can be of no real benefit to you." Lastly, she turned to Thanadir with a gleam in her eye. "I hope you forgive me."

The seneschal regarded her, and slowly a smile came over his face. "You did as I asked," he said wryly. "But in the future I will pay more heed to your wishes. There is nothing to forgive."

She turned to Thranduil, moving her fingers through his hair. _And you...I think it is time, soon, that you understand something about chocolate syrup._ The look on his face made the entire four hour ordeal completely worth it.

Aislinn's delivery van abruptly dropped its radiator right in the middle of the store's car park, so Lorna was busy as hell. Nevertheless, she talked to Ratiri daily, answering what of his questions she actually could answer, and promising to bring him back to the forest as soon as she had a spare moment. He told her that Indira (and wasn't it weird, hearing he called her that; in Baile, she'd been Doc Barry as long as she'd lived there) was taking him to Dublin to buy a car, so she wouldn't have to play taxi to him.

"Take Big Jamie with you," she said, seated out on an upturned bucket in the sunshine. "Nobody'll try to cheat you if you've got him with you." Given that Ratiri was foreign, it was almost a surety that any dealer would try to tack on whatever hidden fees they could cough up.

She spent that evening trawling ads for used cars; yes, all she was likely to find were complete lemons, but restoring it would be half the fun. If Earlene and the elves were absolutely determined to give her all this money, she might as well spend some of it, and she'd want a car come winter.

Logically, she ought to get something she could comfortably haul everyone in. She pondered a Volkswagen Bus, but Earlene would probably die of horror. A van was probably best, and yet...and yet. Yes, a van was sensible, but what she really wanted was a classic car - specifically, a red '66 Dodge Charger. She and Liam had always talked about getting one, and now she actually could.

 _You've got money, you eejit_ , she told herself. _Get both. One for work, and one for you._ Unless she got lucky, she wasn't going to find both right off, so she hunted for the van first.

She found a lemon for five grand in Dublin, and had Mick drive her to see it. It was as bad as she'd thought, but it ran; she'd get it back to the mechanic easy enough, and it could sit outside when they had something going in the shop itself. It was an '82 Ford that had once been red, but was now faded orange. The body was sound, at least, with no rust, but the engine rattled like a drunk throwing dice, the heater didn't work, the radiator leaked, the exhaust manifold was cracked...it was going to take some work, but hadn't she promised Thanadir she'd teach him mechanics? He'd probably pick it up in some obscenely short amount of time, and be a grand help. She'd never ask Mick to take time away from his proper job, but hopefully Thanadir would have enough of an interest.

Ratiri, she found, had an academic knowledge of mechanics, and he'd promised to come out his next day off and let her teach him. She had every intention of taking him to the Halls instead, should he want to go - though she wasn't eloquent enough to give him proper warning about how beautiful it all was. All she could say was, "The loveliest thing you've ever seen, multiplied by a hundred."

Ratiri, for his part, had managed to process much of what he had seen and heard at that tasty dinner party. Taking long walks in the fields helped; they weren't quite like the moors of his childhood, but they were green, and quiet. Being away from the constant company of Baile proper, he had a chance to think.

Really, he should have been more...stunned, shouldn't he? He should have been disturbed, overwhelmed, but - he wasn't. Yes, the elves had been a surprise, but he'd been, all unconsciously, preparing himself for it already. The language, their strange otherness; part of him had known, even if the rational, scientific side of his mind flatly called it impossible.

He was a child of rural Scotland, a place steeped in fairytales going back centuries. There were sensible adults who still believed in the brownies, the banshees, the fairies both benevolent and wicked. He hadn't realized how much of an influence it had really been on him, until he was confronted with elves and neither passed out nor fled. And he turned it over in his mind, beneath the warm sun of Irish spring (rare though it seemed, at times).

And so, his next day off, he gave Lorna a call and drove his new car (a Ford Bronco, bought in case he needed to haul large amounts of...whatever) out to Lasg'len. It still had the new-car smell, and he wasn't yet fully used to how it handled - but drivers in Ireland were no worse than those in Scotland. It had amused him that Lorna was clearly trying to temper her natural driving instincts, when she drove him to Lasg'len; he had, after all, lived in both Glasgow and London. He was a rather aggressive driver himself, and difficult to shock. Short of plowing over an old lady or a small child, he doubted much would surprise him. That said, if this spoon didn't get out of his way - good. The traffic wasn't anywhere near as bad as either London or Glasgow, thank God.

He hadn't had much time to take a look at the village of Lasg'len itself the first time he was here, so he took his time, eyes passing over the houses, the little grocery, the pub...all much like Baile. Ratiri suspected most small Irish villages were constructed along basically the same line.

The mechanic was on a side street - a gently shabby building with a gently shabby sign that said only "Mick's". If everyone in town knew who the mechanic was, why call it something else? Ratiri thought. The bay doors were open, and he pulled up out front, getting out and rapping on the doorjamb.

Lorna stuck her head out from under a sedan, grinning when she saw it was him. She rolled herself all the way out - she was lying one some kind of board with wheels - and hauled herself to her feet. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a crown, likely to keep it out of the way, her hands black with grease and several smears on her face. One of them ran from her nose all the way across her cheek, and Ratiri understood why Big Jamie called her "Adorable, in a slightly scary way." "Was hoping you'd turn up soon," she said, beckoning him to follow her outside. "I've almost got this one done, then I'm off for the day. You want to wait, or head to the pub?"

"I'll wait," Ratiri said, "if you don't mind me talking and distracting you."

"Bloody hard to do, that," she said. "There's cold fizzy drinks in the office, if you want one. It's actually warm today."

That it was, and he gladly took a fizzy drink while Lorna rolled herself back under the sedan. He poked her for information on Baile as well as the elves, but about the elves she would say only that it would make far more sense coming from the source itself.

Once through, she scrubbed her hands and forearms, stripped out of her coveralls (even the smallest of Mick's let her wear her own jeans underneath), and was about to head out when Ratiri pointed a smudge on her face. Annoyingly, that didn't want to come off half so easily as it had on her hands, so she said 'screw it' and headed out anyway. "You want to walk, or drive?"

"It's a nice day," Ratiri said. "I'd like to walk, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she laughed. "It's what I do myself, unless I'm picking up or dropping off."

A few curious people watched them pass through the village, but nobody said anything - just as well, because Lorna really didn't want any busybodies up in her, well, business.

Beside her, Ratiri seemed so peaceful - much as she'd come to feel, when she was headed this direction, and he hadn't even been here but once. She suspected he had craved this, the supernatural, the supposedly nonexistent, far more than he had ever been aware of. She wondered if, like her, he would come to realize he hadn't known something was missing until he found it.

Earlene's phone jangled briefly on the coffee table, where she languidly reached over to pick it up. They had moved to the far end of the spectrum, and she was being treated to another foot rub and Sean the Sheep; both of them felt sufficiently chagrined at what would live on as The Hedwig Incident that they'd decided to be especially nice to her.

"Lorna's coming out, with Ratiri. In over an hour or so," she informed. "Showtime," she chuckled. "What does Your Rulership wish to do?" she teased.

Thranduil looked at her archly while she received a reprimand to the bottom of her foot from the seneschal. She laughed. "Your firieth repents of her impudence. But seriously, may I have an idea? Will I need to prepare a meal…?"

"Ah." Thranduil now understood the nature of her question. "No, you will not need to cook. Though, I have not actually given thought to...what to do. I would think that for Ratiri, simply going and seeing would be enough to occupy his mind? I am certain he will have many questions. And if the entire thing becomes repetitive for you, you can always continue your combat or language lessons with Thanadir. I thought too we could eat there, as we must eat somewhere. I suppose it depends on how much time our guests have to spend."

"Fair enough, thank you," she said, as a soft grunt escaped her when a particularly sore spot was expertly rubbed out by Thanadir's thumb.

The closer he and Lorna got to Earlene's cottage, the more nervous Ratiri became - which was totally ridiculous. He had been invited and accepted among these people; there was no need for nerves.

Except that while he was in Dublin, he'd hit a bookstore and bought a copy of everything they had Tolkien-related. He was a fast reader; while he'd by no means got through all of it, he'd got through quite a bit, and the thought that he actually knew people who had taken part in these stories - that these stories were, somehow, true - it was nearly enough to do his head in. He had so many questions now, but enough tact to not actually ask them (yet).

Lorna seemed entirely at home, heading up the driveway, and Ratiri wondered how many times she'd been out this way in the brief time she'd known the elves. Given the way they all interacted, he would have guessed they'd all known one another for years - which, well, the elves had, but still.

She rapped on the door, first making sure the post wasn't falling out of the box. "Any zombies in there?" With a grin, she turned to Ratiri. "One'v these days, I mean to introduce Thranduil and Thanadir to zombie movies. They've got so much on their list already, but seeing Shaun of the Dead would...would enrich their lives."

Ratiri burst out laughing. "Perhaps it might." He'd be very curious to know what they'd make of the concept of zombies - what would people who lived forever think of the walking dead?

Inside, Thranduil winced. He'd had just about enough of movies for one day, never having anticipated that what he thought would be a pointed lesson to his wife not to be secretive about her interests would turn into so much more than he bargained for. He also wondered, on some level of deep discomfort, what it said about him that he found this previously hidden understanding of the range of human sexual interests a little...exciting. He absolutely did not need zombies added to his plate at the moment. "I believe our guests are here," he noted.

"Can we be rude and tell Lorna to let herself and Ratiri inside? We've only got one minute and this episode is over, " she pleaded. It was one where the three pigs were about to get theirs, and those were her favorites.

"Your manners are atrocious meluieg," he quipped, while at the same time doing as she asked. _Earlene says,_ _please let yourselves in. You must forgive her, she has one minute of Sean the Sheep left._

Lorna burst out laughing, while Ratiri was somewhat confused; he'd never actually heard of Sean the Sheep before, but the alliteration meant it was probably something funny. "Has she showed you Henri the cat yet?" Lorna asked, shooing Ratiri in before her. "I think he's my new favorite."

"Henri?" Ratiri asked.

"I'll show you later, if Earlene hasn't got it handy." She led him to the lounge, giving the three a wave, and Ratiri took it in. All the questions he wanted to ask were tangled up in his head, so much so that he suspected even Thranduil might have a job of sorting them out.

Lorna beat him to it. "You lot look a touch awkward," she said. "Did we come at a bad time?"

Thanadir held his hand up. "Wait! Sean is going to get the apples back from the pigs!"

As Ratiri and Lorna came around to where they could see the TV screen, he saw a sheep suspended between flying barnyard fowl make a bombing run to remove the fruit from in front of three pigs that bore a striking resemblance to Oogie Boogie from "Nightmare Before Christmas." Lorna joined everyone else in the room cackling in laughter, while Ratiri looked from the elf to the television screen to Lorna and back again, not sure he was actually seeing this. All the sheep in the yard cheered and split the apples and…..oh, good grief.

Earlene hit the pause button, still laughing. "Forgive me, these episodes are more addicting that chocolate." Standing up, she reached to half handshake, half-hug Ratiri, asking brightly if they would like tea? And then not waiting for the answer, because, of course they would. She glided across the floor to warm the kettle.

Ratiri had to do some immediate revising of...well, many things. Tolkien had said a great deal about elves; none of it suggested that they would find a claymation cartoon about a sheep amusing (admittedly, it looked hilarious, but he wouldn't have thought elves would have an appreciation for it). He'd thought than an elf sense of humor would be more subtle than that...maybe relying on the written materials so much wasn't the world's greatest idea.

Lorna lightly elbowed him in the ribs. "Smartest thing?" she said. "Don't assume anything. I keep finding myself doing it, and keep getting proved wrong. Which, yeah, it can make life more entertaining, but possibly not easier." She had all kinds of fun rolling with the chaos, but not everyone was going to. Ratiri was a doctor; she'd hazard he liked things a little more orderly than she did.

Tea mugs were soon distributed all around, and Thranduil sidled over to Ratiri. "And how have you been, my friend?" he asked, with eyes fill of mirth.

Ratiri laughed quietly. "That is not an easy question to answer," he said. "I went and bought everything I could find on the history of your people - everything Tolkien wrote - but, though I've read half of it, I still feel like I don't know enough. To us, those books are fiction. Very beloved fiction, but I don't think anyone ever tried to claim anything in them was real, so finding out that you all are...I have so many questions, and half of them are probably too rude to be answered."

Thranduil was surprised and touched at this response...he had not expected that Ratiri would have that much interest. Even Earlene had not rushed into asking questions about this, though he had some awareness that she had it on one of her task lists...she'd been too occupied with her assigned task of learning about them and to function with them in the here and now.

His eyes were very kind, as he spoke without words. _If I might offer some advice, ask what you wish. I am more than capable of declining to answer, should I need to. It is generous of spirit, that you would make so much effort to learn of us. Not having read these books myself, I am uncertain exactly what they say, but there will be much time to discover this._

Aloud he said, "Do you wish to see more? Perhaps Lorna told you that you would be invited to our Halls, if your sensibilities survived meeting us in the first place."

 _I can bring the ones I've already read, if you'd like,_ Ratiri said. _There's quite a lot to go through, but you might find it interesting. I don't know how accurate they are to your actual history or not, but it might be entertaining to find out._

Did he wish to see more? Hell yeah he did. "She did," he said. "She also said she had no real way to warn me how beautiful I would find them, so I had best be prepared to stand still for a bit and take it in."

"And not fall off the walkway," she said, grinning. "I hope you don't mind heights."

"Not usually," he said, and was rather more excited than a man of his age should be. _Screw that,_ he thought. _I'll be as excited as I like. If ever anything justified it, it would be this._

Thranduil smiled, gesturing out the back door. "Then, come. You may wish to leave the tea here, though, we are fresh out of kitchen sinks for the next twenty minutes. I should ask too, how much time you have available? We can eat there later, if you are able to join us."

An elf with such a sense of humor was still odd, simply because it was so at odds with everything he'd read for the last twenty-five years. Ratiri looked forward to finding out what other surprises lay in wait. "I'm off work tomorrow," he said, drinking most of his tea before setting the mug aside. "I can be out as long as I'd like without worrying about sleep."

"You'll bloody love it," Lorna said, downing her own tea in three long swallows. "Seriously, it's like nothing you've ever seen." At least she wouldn't be the only one gawking like a tourist this time (because she was still going to gawk a bit. It was impossible not to.)

Thranduil led the way, inviting Ratiri to walk alongside of him. But not before he sent to Lorna, _I hope you will once again allow me to have my fun with the Gates?_

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek. _Of course. It's too fun not to._

 _I knew I liked you._ The smirk in his voice was palpable.

As they proceeded along the path, Thranduil reiterated the same warning to Ratiri, not to try to traverse this path alone for the first several visits and not to try the other paths at all.

"He's not joking," Earlene quipped. "I've started to make a game of it, and it is not possible to not get lost. Even a compass will not help you in here. Or rather, it will help you to get lost faster, but that's about it."

Thranduil chuckled. "I keep forgetting to fix that for you, meluieg."

"Don't bother; as long as Thanadir doesn't mind chasing me down, it's become kind of an entertainment."

The King shook his head. "As you wish," he said smiling before he continued on. "We are happy, though, to take you on walks in the woods, should you wish to see more of them. There is much beauty, here. Though, as none of the villagers have ever been invited, it may be best not to mention this to others. While they know the elves live in the woods, they do not know about what you will see."

Ratiri wondered if any of the villagers had ever been too curious - or incautious - to test the forest themselves. Had he lived behind such a forest as a kid, he almost certainly would have, and have got hopelessly lost.

"They've asked me weirdly little," Lorna put in from behind him. "I'd've thought they'd want to know everything I do, but they keep pretty quiet. They must know that if I - or the elves - wanted them to know, I'd say so." It had, admittedly, made her life much easier.

"The villagers have never become incautious. For countless generations they have known, and shown us respect. But others have come, in years long past. Others, who intended harm to those we have always watched over, in the village. To come in here with such an intention is never to return," he said without further elaboration.

 _I bet that means he has dungeons_ , Lorna thought. _And not the fun kind. Oh great, of course her mind went there..._ she'd focus on Ratiri, except that would just make it worse. _Oops._ It wasn't her fault he was walking in front of her, and had a damn nice arse in jeans. He couldn't blame anyone but himself for that.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and counted himself fortunate. Though, he now wondered at the lack of Earlene's apparent interest in his...arse. Did that mean something?

With Earlene and Thanadir serenely bringing up the rear, the path was traversed in the usual twenty plus minutes at a leisurely walk until they reached the bridge. "Ratiri, this is your first experience of what you would call elven magic. You are at the Gates of my Halls, yet your eyes cannot breach the enchantments that conceal them from human sight. Look around you, carefully."

Lorna watched Ratiri a little too gleefully, considering how she would have fallen for it utterly if not for Earlene's warning. Ratiri's eyes darted over the trees, searching, sharp and intelligent. Unlike her, there seemed to be an actual method to his search. "I can't see it," he said, sounding impressed but unsurprised.

"And now you can," said Thranduil, with a wave of his hand. "Welcome, to the last Elven fortress in this world."

Ratiri was scarcely aware of his breath catching. He'd seen drawings of these gates, and images on a screen, but neither were nearly enough to prepare him for seeing the real thing, towering and impossibly smooth before him. The sight tugged at him, at the feeling he'd had when he was a boy and his Nan read him stories about far off lands and fantastical creatures. "Holy shit," he said.

"That's what I said," Lorna piped in. She was having almost as much fun watching him as she presumed Thranduil was; he already looked dazed, and he'd seen nothing yet. She could only hope it wouldn't prove too much for him.

Earlene came up to Ratiri and took his hand, giving him a moment to...absorb it all. "Ratiri, there is something you should know. Outside, you see all of us as friends, interacting with each other. But you should also understand, Thanadir and I are sworn subjects of this Realm, and Thranduil is our King. You and Lorna are invited to this world without any expectation being made for you to act toward him or Thanadir as you will see the rest of us do. You are our friend. It is going to seem very strange to you, maybe even uncomfortable, unless you are unusually familiar with the manners shown to a ruling monarch. I felt I should...warn you," she said smiling. "In a moment you will have even more surprises to deal with." Releasing his hand, she backed away, bowing her head to Thranduil.

Smiling in approval, he gestured for them to finish traversing the bridge, and commanded the massive door to open with another wave of his hand. "Please, enter. You will likely find that your eyes need time to adjust; do not walk far until you can see clearly."

Ratiri wasn't terribly familiar with historical monarchy, but it would seem that wasn't going to be an issue. Did Lorna find it awkward? She was Irish; he'd think she'd hate the very idea. The Scots weren't fond of having been stuck under one king or another for centuries, but their kings hadn't done the sort of things they did to the Irish. Still, if she didn't seem to mind, it was highly unlikely he'd find it overly weird.

"He means it," Lorna warned. "It'd be too easy to walk right over the edge if you don't pause a minute." Later, if necessary, she'd tell Ratiri to do what she did in the halls, and just kind of turn a blind eye to the monarchy aspects. Yeah, it was there, but that didn't mean one had to dwell on it; she regarded it as simply being part of a foreign culture, and let it be at that.

Ratiri duly halted, blinking, breathing in the scent of stone and moss and, rather surprisingly, living things. When the door swung shut, however, he jumped a little. There was something weirdly final about it: he was in now, all the way, any thought of backing out gone. Not that he'd wanted to to begin with.

When his eyes adjusted, they widened, and again he felt his breath catch. This was what he'd imagined, and more; when he'd been in med school, he'd drawn in illustrations of Mirkwood, of the Wood-Elves' halls, but none of them had come anywhere close to doing the real thing justice. He wanted to run around everywhere, and see all that was to be seen, while at the same time he wanted to stay still, and take it all in. There was a strange ache in his chest, something he couldn't identify, but it seemed to have lodged itself there from the moment he could properly see.

"Would you like to just explore, Ratiri? You may. I would be happy to send Earlene with you, or simply allow you to get lost; we can come for you if need be. I only must warn you that no other of the elves can speak a word of your language." The sense of appreciation and yearning in this man were palpable, and if he could manage to not fall off of a walkway, there was no harm he could actually do.

He didn't think he'd ever in his life want to do anything more than explore. "I might - a guided tour, sort of thing, might be a better idea," he said, looking from Thranduil to Earlene to Thanadir and finally to Lorna, who looked rather delighted at his delight. "Otherwise I won't know what I'm properly looking at; it will just be beautiful, without meaning."

 _Jesus, he's loving this_ , Lorna thought. She hadn't seen anyone this pleased by anything in years. He'd read so much...she needed to read all of it, if she could. Thranduil had said he'd fix her dyslexia, but nobody even knew what caused it, so how could he? With a sigh - for she really was embarrassed by it, for all she shouldn't be - she'd ask him about it later. She wanted to know what was behind Ratiri's wonder, what he knew that fueled it. In that, he reminded her a touch of Thanadir, with his wonder at things like sewing machines.

 _Because Eru gave elves the power of healing, my stubborn friend, that is how_. Thranduil grinned in her direction when he caught her eye, before returning his attention to Ratiri. "Thanadir knows more than I do of the technical details of these Halls, but I will manage. These were natural caverns, expanded and beautified by the skill of the dwarves. The elves of this Realm have known two other homes, long since abandoned to antiquity. At one time thousands of our people lived within these Halls. As I told Earlene once, it is a vestige of a former glory. It has all the features of a small city. There are kitchens, storerooms, innumerable dwellings, armories, a library, places to work wood, metal, and fabric; stables long abandoned, and things more common that I am forgetting to mention. And of course as you can see, this is a kingdom; there is a throne, and a King," he said with self-effacing humor.

He led them over arching stone paths, past the hub of his throne. "Earlene, Thanadir, do you wish to continue your sword lessons, or remain with us?" Earlene bit her lip. She was enjoying Ratiri's experience, but for her this was now old news. And yet even she had never exactly had a tour; maybe she would learn something new if she remained. Looking at Thanadir, she asked with her eyes if he minded waiting a bit. He patted her shoulder reassuringly, and did not seem distressed or impatient...so she waited.

So many things, and God, Ratiri wanted to see all of them. What he was most curious about was, naturally, their medicine. "Did you have any equivalent of a hospital? I know elves don't get ill, but how did you treat injuries?"

 _Definitely a doctor_ , Lorna thought, smiling, but she was curious herself. _At the height of the Halls' population, there was simply no way Thranduil would have had the time to take care of absolutely everyone on his own, right?_ She wondered how Ratiri would react to knowing just how much Thranduil could heal himself.

"There were Healer's Halls, in ages gone by. They are yet here. But much of our medicine was not what you would recognize. It is given to us to heal swiftly and much of our skill would fall also into the area you would likely define as 'magical'. According to power, elves had greater and lesser skill at healing, but all elves have some ability. It is possible to kill us, to injure the body so badly that our spirits must depart to Mandos. But more often than not this only occurred in times of warfare. Outside of that, irreparable injury was rare indeed."

 _Speaking of that, thanks for healing the dent,_ Lorna said. _I think you're the only bloke in the world I'd actually trust to have my top off while I was unconscious without being a pervert about it._ Though, there might well come a day she'd quite like Ratiri to perv, but that was another story.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. _I will have you know that I went to absurd lengths to *not* remove your top, knowing that you would not be pleased to be viewed unclothed. Later I would like it if you told me just how that injury came to be, but not now. I hate to rush a good battle story._

"From all I've read, humans and elves are technically the same species," Ratiri said. "Technically, and yet you live forever unless you're killed by some external source - you don't get ill, you possess magic...I have to say, as a human, that it really does feel like we got shafted. The number of human diseases alone is nightmarish."

Hearing him use a word like 'shafted' made Lorna try desperately to choke back her own laughter. "He has a point," she said. "If a human ate as much sugar as Thanadir, they'd be sure to get diabetes sooner or later. And elves don't get cancer, or heart attacks, or any'v the other shite we're prone to."

"There was a time when men, noble men, lived far longer lives; this was when your race was newly awakened. But your blood has diminished. There is no comment I can make except to say that for some, the gift of elven life has not always proven to be a gift. There are some who suffered unimaginable torment from which escape was not possible. And no matter what our race, our spirits are ultimately in the hands of Eru, who we are told yet has unfinished work. There is a limit to our knowledge," he said simply.

"Our medicine now is a wonder," Ratiri said. "We've come so far in the last hundred years, but we can't cure everything. I wish we had a little of your magic. Even things like arthritis, which isn't dangerous but is terribly painful - I think there is a reason so many doctors don't believe in any religions. When you see so much senseless suffering, it can be difficult to believe in an Eru or anything like one." He shook his head, realizing he was turning into a Debbie Downer. "Enough of that, though. That all of you exist, even if there aren't so many of you, and that you can heal, is more than I would have dared imagine."

"What he can do is a priceless gift," said Earlene softly. "While I have great respect for your profession, there is no comparison. And, please excuse me, I will see you later on." Turning to Thanadir, she said "I am ready." As they walked off, Earlene felt taken aback. Not just that she'd said that, but that the need to say that had struck her so strongly, and whether or not it had been right to say anything at all. She looked down. It wasn't medicine's fault, per se...but after what she'd lived with, suffered with...being able to heal that? _That_ was healing. Realizing that she felt resentment, that her human doctors couldn't do anything for her except give her Xanax to keep her from feeling….she sighed and tried to clear her head, knowing that there would soon be no room for distractions if she was to survive the seneschal's lesson.

Thranduil looked at his wife in surprise but quickly saw the complexity out of which the comment was made, and the contrition for it. He elected to say nothing, and move back to the conversation. "Much of what has befallen humans in recent times has been a direct or indirect result of human activity, though. No one wishes to see another suffer, especially not the innocent. But even in our time, the world did not unfold as planned. Elves too have suffered greatly from the evil intentions of others. While we are not susceptible to the same ills as you, we have not been without sorrows."

Anger flared through Ratiri at Earlene's words, all the hotter because he knew she was right. He drew a deep breath, trying to dispel it. "Nothing that lives has been," he sighed. But...he had watched children die of cancer, unable to do a thing, and why did humans have cancer? Why would Eru - and he was assuming the mythology of the elves was fact, which was a very hard thing for him to swallow, having been raised Hindu - do that to humans? He likely wouldn't say, even if someone were able to ask him; one thing that seemed common across most religions was that the gods tended to be tight-lipped about their plans. "To live is to suffer," he quoted. "To survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. I think it was Nietzsche who said that. Normally I'd say he's a bit of a pretentious twat, but he came up with a few good ones."

Lorna snorted, swallowing laughter. "Don't think I've ever heard Nietzsche called a pretentious twat before," she said. "I'm not so sure I'd call him the twat so much as all the fedora-wearing, deliberately malnourished uni boys who drink huge lattes and pretend they know what the deeper meaning is." One of those tossers had wandered past Lorna's gang one hot summer evening (wearing a scarf), and made the mistake of saying something condescending. He'd wound up naked, tied to a fountain with that scarf. Needless to say, he never came back.

Thranduil shrugged. "Blame Melko. Eru did nothing but create a beautiful music with the faithful Ainur. And Ratiri, I am going to apologize for what Earlene said. She came to me suffering from something beyond the reach of your medicine, and her comment came from that place of her own experience, and the hopelessness she had once been made to feel. I know that it was not her intent to offend you. Perhaps," he said, hoping to divert the discussion from the philosophical morass threatening to strangle it, "you would care to see the kitchens?"

"It's fine," Ratiri said, and it mostly was. "I can only imagine the ovens you'd need, to feed the former population here."

"I haven't been there, either," Lorna said. "But I bet I'd fit in one. As long as nobody shuts me in, anyway." She'd been wanting to know where the kitchens were anyway, in case she got peckish some night she was staying here and wanted a midnight snack.

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Do all humans do as in the movie we saw today? Have their children play in the ovens?"

Lorna blinked. "What the hell were you watching?" she asked.

"We insisted Earlene show us 'Hedwig and the Angry Inch.' Which turned out to be something of a misjudgment on my part. But in the movie, the child Hansel played in the oven because their home was so small. When you said that I thought that perhaps this was a strange custom of your kind."

Lorna's eyes widened. "You watched - you and Thanadir watched -" She was torn between amused and horrified, and tried, oh so hard, not to die laughing. Naturally, she failed.

Even Ratiri was rather surprised; he knew little of the elves, but he had a hard time imagining them watching that movie without coming away from with with a laundry list of questions, not all of which Earlene might feel comfortable answering. "It's not a custom," he said - the only thing he trusted himself to say, lest he follow Lorna.

The King pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, we watched. I thought I was, what is your expression, pulling one over on Earlene, who had been trying to enjoy the film alone; apparently she is very fond of it. I believed she was trying to hide it from us, and so I insisted she show it and explain it all. Once she made up her mind to do so, she spent the next four hours enlightening us about your more interesting intimate behaviors in excruciating detail. There are certain words I will never hear in the same way again," he confessed, shaking his head.

"Oh, I bet," Lorna managed, cackling. She was laughing so hard she gave up and sat down, because if it managed to disturb Thranduil, then poor Thanadir...Thanadir, who had such a love for propriety. She wished, oh how she wished she'd been there for that one…

"If you keep laughing like that, you'll choke," Ratiri said, but couldn't fully keep it back himself. He hesitated to touch her, to try to draw her to her feet, so he sat beside her instead.

Lorna wiped her running eyes, a stitch aching in her side. "Oh God...just...I need to introduce you to Repo! The Genetic Opera. It's not as full'v sex things as Hedwig, at least. And at least now you know that when Earlene's trying to enjoy something alone, there's probably a reason."

"She said as much," Thranduil said, offering his hand to her to help her up. "We are well aware that we received more of a lesson than we bargained for. You will be pleased to know that Thanadir, aside from turning slightly pale, held up remarkably well."

"For Thanadir, turning slightly pale is fairly dire, I'd think," Lorna said, taking his hand and hauling herself up. Ratiri wondered just how Thranduil had won her trust enough to allow physical contact, and how he could do so himself, given time. "If coughing slightly is his form of censure, turning pale must be coming close to passing out."

The King snickered. "Please do not tell him I laughed about that," he said worriedly before smiling again. "And I will not tell him you said it in the first place. Ah, and here are the kitchens. Bainor and Arnos are the ellyn, Glân and Rílas the ellith. It is to their skill here in their domain that we owe all the wonderful food. Mae g'ovannen" he said, in greeting to his subjects.

All of them immediately stopped, and bowed or curtsied briefly. "i Aran nîn," they said in unison, before waiting one last respectful moment and continuing with their work.

Lorna still wasn't used to that, but Ratiri had never seen it at all, so he jumped a little. Yes, he came from a monarchy, but only technically, and it wasn't like he'd ever actually seen a monarch in action, so to speak. Each of them worked with a precision he could only envy, without a single wasted movement, almost as graceful as dancers. How did they manage it, cooking with fire? Obviously they'd been doing it for thousands of years, but still; the few times he'd tried to do anything more ambitious than roast a banger, he'd realized how little he knew.

Lorna, being, well, Lorna, was eying the ovens, because once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to get it out. "All right, I'm doing it," she said, fishing out her mobile and handing it to Ratiri. "I need photographic evidence of this," she said. Unbuttoning her flannel outer shirt, she set it out of the way, ignoring the fact that the cooks were probably going to think she was utterly mental. Choosing an oven at random, approximately chest-height on her, she wrenched the iron door until it came open. Tipping Ratiri a salute, Britain-style, she levered herself in.

Not only did she fit, she had a surprising amount of room; just what the hell had they cooked in here? Christ, she could take a nap, if she didn't mind sleeping on stone.

"How is it?" Ratiri asked, snapping her picture as she peered out the door.

"Not bad. Give me a pillow and a blanket and it's as good as a flat." She pushed her fringe out of her eyes and ran her knuckles over her nose right before she sneezed, and Ratiri, completely unable to help it, burst out laughing. She had transferred quite a lovely smear of soot across half of her face, right over the bridge of her nose. The force of the sneeze dislodged a fine layer of ash and soot, which drifted down onto her like some kind of polluted snow.

"What?" Lorna asked, and looked at her hand. "...Oh. Well, fuck." She had not, unfortunately, thought this through. At all. Had she, she would have checked to make sure the oven had been cleaned first, but noooo, she just crawled on into the first one that struck her fancy, and now she was fucking filthy.

Rolling out of the oven, she looked at her arms, and her vest top, and her jeans, and... _oh, Christ._ The sound of her mobile's camera shutter made her glower at Ratiri, who looked like he was having far too good of a time and feeling rather guilty for it.

 _He's lucky he's so damned good-looking_ , Lorna thought, glowering at him. "I might," she said, wiping her hands on her jeans, "not have given this enough consideration." All the action did was smear the soot around. Beautiful. Thranduil was never, ever going to let her live this down, either.

He had been conversing pleasantly with his kitchen staff when motion in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Lorna was…. _what in the name of Eru?_ He reasoned that if he could continue the conversation concerning tonight's treat of savory leek and potato soup, rabbit pie and honey cakes for just a few moments longer, the other elves might not notice that his human guest had just emerged, filthy, from one of the ovens. _Clearly, someone had too much energy this afternoon._ He stole an extra few moments while he considered what to do. His eyes narrowed. Well, she was already dirty…

 _Lorna, if you would oblige me by walking on the other side of Ratiri as we file out, I will manage to leave some aura of mystery as to why there is soot on the floors. Besides, I think I have a better idea on how you can amuse yourself.. I think now would be an excellent time, while the cooks are yet distracted._ He moved himself over toward their cooking ranges for a moment, pretending interest in the contents of the soup pots, and thereby drawing the elves' gaze away from a bespeckled Lorna. Who he met in the passageway outside, at a pointed distance. Crossing his arms, he gave her a scolding look, that was quickly replaced by an almost evil grin.

 _What are you thinking?_ Lorna asked, more than a little wary. That grin boded no good.

 _I am not the one who is going to have to wear a dress tonight because her clothes will have to take a day's tour through the laundry. Thanadir will be delighted. As will I_ , he chuckled.

Lorna felt the blood drain from her face. "Oh, no…" She really, really should have thought this through. "I could...detour back to Mick's?" she offered, already knowing that wouldn't fly. It would take her two hours to get to Mick's and back.

He languidly shook his head No. _That will not do; it is not every night that we have rabbit. Besides, I am not done with you yet; you have too much energy. It is time you picked up a sword again, and joined Earlene for awhile. Besides, you are already dirty, a little more cannot matter. Come._

He led them down more passages and past the familiar armory, where ahead they heard the clanging of steel.

It only took Ratiri a moment to realize some kind of telepathic conversation was going on - one which Lorna wasn't terribly pleased by, either, though she brightened near the end of it. "Swords, Ratiri," she said, grinning up at him. "Swords. I used one once in here, but I was pretty crap at it. I'm too short. You've got to try, though - you're elf-sized, you'd handle their weapons brilliantly."

Ratiri wasn't so sure about that. While he hadn't been terrible in sport at school, he hadn't been great, either - but he would absolutely love to try. Just to be awful, he snapped one more photo of Lorna, who snatched her phone back from him with a mock glower. Mairead had warned him she hated it when people called her adorable, but God help him, she was. Covered in soot, the silver in her hair dusted darker by it...she looked like a sprite who'd gone diving down someone's chimney.

"Strike! Test! Hit! Again! (pause) Strike! Test! Hit! (pause) Again!" The seneschal's sharp orders were heard clearly out the practice chamber door. Three heads peered cautiously into the doorway opening, to see Earlene, drenched in sweat, repeating an exhausting-looking drill as Thanadir barked commands at her.

"Please, Thanadir, my arms are turning to jelly," she pleaded.

"Twice more," the seneschal demanded, "and I expect your best."

The look on her face hardened into one Ratiri would not particularly want directed at him, ever, as she half shouted with the effort needed to repeat the maneuver, one in which an attacker attempted to thrust at a defender's face. He noted that the pretty dress he had seen her in earlier was laid aside, and that she was wearing a tunic and leggings now, that hung limp with perspiration off of her.

"Only once more, Earlene," he said, and after her blade crashed against his once more he helped support her shoulders while he took the blade from her. "Well done my queen, well done! You are improving greatly," praised the seneschal.

"Then why do I feel as though you removed my skeleton?" she moaned, trying to catch her breath.

Thanadir chuckled. "It will get better. And I think now you can rest; it would seem we have other pupils."

"When do I get to see both of you that actually know how to do this...do this?" she asked, not understanding what he meant, and not seeing they were no longer alone. "Aside from trying to kill me, I don't understand what half of this does, that I practice."

Thranduil came up behind her, laying his hand on her arm. "That was very good, meluieg. I am willing to grant your request, if Thanadir agrees. I do not think Lorna would mind to see this, either. Ratiri, I hope you do not mind bearing with us, it is time to deliver on a promise that has been floating about for some days now."

Eager nods met his eyes, and Thanadir bowed his head in assent. "I must emphasize that you (no one could fault him if he especially looked at Lorna while saying this) are not to do as we are about to do inside of the next decade, and better yet never. Proper safety means wearing appropriate armor and taking other precautions. We have had a very long time to understand what not to do."

Thranuil shed his outer clothing (what was it called, anyway? Shirt-like coat? No one really had any idea) and selected a sword, moving into the same circle in which Earlene and Thanadir had been practicing. With a seemingly formal ritual of bows and salutes, they began. They were a blur of steel, always in motion except for the times they locked together in an impasse; only to break apart and continue. Though even Earlene kept waiting for a blow to land, none ever did; their skills were too evenly matched. After some minutes Thranduil exclaimed "Daro!" and with their hands held over their hearts, they bowed to each other one last time before leaving the sparring circle.

Well, now Ratiri felt hopelessly inadequate - not that this wasn't entirely expected, given all he'd read about the differences between elves and humans. What worried him was that Lorna looked a little too interested - if she didn't try doing that with something sooner or later, he'd be very surprised. Perhaps he could convince her to try it with some kind of modified Nerf sword. Of course, she was so small she'd have a hard time finding someone she could spar with in the first place; Earlene was the second shortest among them, but she was still a good nine inches taller than Lorna.

"You show me something that brilliant, then tell me I should never do it," Lorna said, shaking her head. "I know none'v us'll ever be anywhere near as fast as you lot, but can we really not practice that at all, with like...blunt training weapons, or whatever it is you use to start? Or do elves even do that?" She wouldn't be surprised if elves didn't need to start off with blunt anything.

"The problem, Lorna, is that I cannot see you being content to stay with 'blunt anything'," he said in mock exasperation. "We train using real weapons, but our education is slow, disciplined. I do not have to fear that Earlene will ever disregard the tutelage of Thanadir and decide to take her sword and….well, never mind. Though if you have something truly unable to cause harm and to confine yourself only to it, then of course you may do as you wish. Though, I fear for your safety nonetheless."

He was wise enough, Lorna noted, not to give her any further ideas. If the elves didn't use any kind of blunt weapons, maybe she could craft something out of wood - he underestimated her ability to take hits from various….things...and still get up. What she was only hazily cognizant of herself was that that was not actually a good thing; fighting with improvised, long-range weapons was half of how she'd wound up with the dent in the first place. Cricket bats were heavy, solid, and could do more damage than the average person might guess. (Which was, in part, why she loved Shaun of the Dead so much. It would be her preferred weapon of choice in a zombie apocalypse any day.) Though she wasn't about to point out to anyone that she'd once beaten a guy unconscious with a push-broom. That probably wouldn't help her case.

She looked up at Ratiri, who arched an eyebrow. "I'm not helping you," he said. "If I find something you couldn't accidentally murder someone with, then I'll help you."

"I'll hold you to that," she said, and sneezed. A fine dust of charcoal shook out of her hair, and he fought the urge to just dust it off and wipe her face with the end of his sleeve.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, and handed both Ratiri and Lorna their swords while issuing rapid fire instructions to Thanadir in Sindarin. "Thanadir will instruct you; this will be brief so that your bodies do not become excessively tired from the unfamiliar exercise. I would advise you to be kind to my seneschal, Lorna. He has many dresses to choose from. And then we will see about baths for those needing them; we will rejoin you shortly." With a grin, he guided Earlene away from the room.

 _You are having way too much fun, Thranduil_ , Lorna fired at him.

 _Do you blame me?_ came the answer. _Behave yourself._

Lorna shook her head. Dresses. She lifted her sword, wondering just how young the elves started training, if they had a sword her size. She glanced at Ratiri, who looked much more natural holding his - surprisingly so, given he was a doctor. One might even say suspiciously so. "Ratiri," she said, "did you ever do historical re-enactments when you were younger?"

He gave a slightly guilty start. "Got it in one," he said. Katherine had roped him into it, but he'd been surprised to find he'd enjoyed it quite a bit.

"All right, Thanadir," Lorna said, looking at him. "Time to run us ragged, I'm guessing." She looked forward to that probably more than she ought to.

The elf appraised them with a critical eye. He could only work with them one at a time, but then again, he had seen Lorna's tenacity to attack even the mannequins. He would assign her a solo drill.

Lorna honestly wondered a bit what was going to happen when she did this. It was very controlled, almost like a dance, graceful and measured. The last time she'd held a sword, she'd lost her shit and mauled a training dummy, but she was better now. One hand at the base of the hilt, the other just beneath the guard, she brought the sword around in the clean, sweeping arcs Thanadir showed her - well, she did her best. She wasn't used to a sword, after all; sometimes her movements were not what one might call even. It was almost like meditation, really; you had to pay attention to what you were doing, but lacking an opponent, you didn't have to think, just focus.

The sword wasn't what she'd call heavy, but keeping her movements even made her arms and shoulders burn in a slightly pleasant way. Some of these were muscles she didn't use so often, but they didn't hate her yet. And the burn lessened as she lost herself in the repetition, each set of movements sliding into the next - not seamlessly, no, but easy enough to be getting on with.

Thanadir nodded approvingly. "I want you to spend your time focusing on form over speed. You are training your body to be familiar with these motions, and the movement of the blade. As I work with Ratiri, I will check that you are remaining in the proper alignment, and correct you if necessary. If you do well, Aran Thranduil says I am to have you stab something."

Ratiri looked entirely different. As tall as the King, and obviously reasonably fit, he seemed to already have a strong sense of posture and form. "We will begin with basic footwork," Thanadir announced. "You will keep the blade in your dominant hand while you practice. Though you will not be using it, it will help focus your mind on the importance of properly using your feet and legs." He demonstrated what looked for all the world like a lunge forward with his left leg, then a lunge backward, then a return to a neutral position, without ever moving his right foot. "You have no difficulties with your body, your...joints, to do this?" he asked. Further reading had allowed him to realize that even young humans could have damaged bodies. When Ratiri nodded that he was fine in these respects, Thanadir demonstrated the same maneuver on the opposite foot. "You are to do this with each side of your body as many times as you are able without tiring, but not more than ten. If you tire earlier, try to do one more than feels comfortable then stop. You are not to strain yourself."

His quads were going to hate him, and Ratiri knew it, but he gamely went at it. Fortunately he had a good sense of balance, so he didn't wobble like an idiot, though it took him a few tries to get it properly right. Predictably, he was tiring by the fifth, but he managed to push it to nine before he had to stop. He was, after all a doctor; he wasn't going to push that past his endurance. He rested for a count of five, then switched legs, the burn in his quads already a harbinger of misery to come. He really was more out-of-condition than he liked, but it could be much worse.

Lorna emerged from her zen state long enough to note that such lunges really did fantastic things for Ratiri's arse before she slipped back into her groove again. Her shoulders were tensing now - the sword might not weigh much, but having it in constant motion was more tiring than she might have expected. Still, she wasn't going to beg off just yet; there was a difference between 'tiring' and 'oh God I'm a noodle'. The thought made her smile even as she continued this odd, controlled dance. Hell, next time she got too pissed off, maybe she'd practice it with a stick or something.

Thanadir stopped both of them; they had done well, and it was important to not over-exert them. He reviewed with Lorna and showed Ratiri for the first time the same exercise Thranduil had taught her previously; the simple downward stabbing attack into the mannequins. He encouraged both of them to alternate hands, though, to strike from each side. This used different muscles, and hopefully Lorna's mannequin would survive.

Doing this one felt...odd, given what she'd done the last time she tried it, and indeed while looking at this effigy, something stirred in her mind. Dropping a lid on it wasn't too hard, but that it was there at all disturbed her. She stepped, stepped, swept the sword over her head, and brought it down into the target with a touch too much force - being as short as she was, she stabbed into the dummy's gut rather than its chest. Pulling the blade free, she eyed it, momentarily oblivious.

Ratiri was at least tall enough that he had little issue with the move itself, though his execution of it was hardly what one might call perfect - Lorna pushed too hard, but he didn't push hard enough, fearing to actually break the mannequin (never mind that that was the entire point of the thing to begin with).

His second try went rather better, as he started thinking of the sword less as an encumbrance and more as an appendage. His legs ached, his shoulders ached - he was going to regret this later, but not much.

Lorna eyed her sword, and her dummy, and drew back, mimicking the other move Thranduil had shown her, with a touch more vim than was strictly necessary. The feel of the sword as it sliced through cloth and straw, the thunk when she attacked...well, he'd said it was satisfying, and it most certainly was.

"That was well done," he said, "both of you. Many elves did not fare so well, their first time trying." The seneschal indicated that they were to leave their weapons behind, after which he guided them back to the upper levels. "I am to take you to the King's rooms, but first I must acquire something from my own rooms. This way, please. And perhaps, Lorna, I have something you may enjoy seeing."

They arrived soon enough at one of many unmarked wooden doors, and he welcomed them in, though he did eye Lorna. "Please, if I may ask you to remain there; soot is very difficult to remove from some of these fabrics." But he returned momentarily with...were those quilt squares? "I made these using your machine. Do you like them?"

Lorna wished her hands weren't so filthy, so she could examine them more closely. "Thanadir, they're beautiful," she said. "Is this a pattern you got from the quilting circle, or did you make it yourself?" Her money was on the latter, given, well, elves.

 _Wait, wait...what?_ The thought of Thanadir in a human quilting circle was almost more than Ratiri's brain could handle right now. Picturing him surrounded by little old ladies, teacups, and probably cats (if this village was like every other), was just about too much. The quilt squares really were pretty, though, which Ratiri echoed aloud.

"I read all the books and then...extrapolated. I wished for something that called to mind the trees, and nothing I saw exactly suited. I am glad you like it," he said happily. "Excuse me for just a moment." He laid his squares aside, and disappeared briefly, returning with a nondescript bundle, wrapped in equally nondescript cloth. "This way, please," he said, indicating they were to continue on.

A few minutes later they were at a door in a passageway that seemed to have fewer doors, and the customary two raps followed by walking in was made. "Inside, please; these are the King's rooms." He caught himself. "The King's and Earlene's rooms, rather." Thranduil poked his head out of an adjacent doorway.

"Welcome, Ratiri," he said enthusiastically. "Lorna, I believe you know where the bath is? Earlene has just finished and removed all her things." The statement was polite but left no room for discussion. The King looked expectantly at Thanadir, who nodded. "Thanadir has a package for you; inside is a suitable garment. If you will please leave your other clothes in the bathing room when you are done, we will test the collective powers of the launderers."

"God, wait'll you get a load'v this tub, Ratiri," she said. "It'll spoil you for life, you'll never want another." She dreaded just what Thanadir - or rather, what Thranduil, because he was a little shit and enjoyed this far, far too much - had decided a 'suitable garment' was.

Ratiri, who felt vaguely as though he shouldn't actually be in here, invitation or no, said, "Don't waste all the hot water."

"That," Lorna said, disappearing through the door, "won't be an issue. Trust me."

She shut the door, and did her level best not to shake too much soot onto the floor as she stripped off; fortunately, working with the swords had shaken most of it free, and she piled it as neatly as she could. Given that she still couldn't read any of the writing on the various bottles, she did her best to remember which ones she'd used before.

Sinking into the bathtub with a happy sigh, she soaked her hair and allowed herself to jellyfish for a minute or two - much though she wished she could linger, she couldn't keep Ratiri waiting too long. She scrubbed, rinsed, scrubbed again, washed her hair, and finally bundled up in towels she could have used as a blanket. Even now, the short amount of time it took to comb her hair surprised her - and mercifully, there were human combs. Earlene must have been as unsettled by the ivory one as she was. Approaching the bundle as though it contained a live snake. She really, really didn't trust Thranduil.

Though on this occasion, it seemed she could. The dress the bag contained wasn't bad at all: plain black velvet, with some kind of green ribbon lacing at the front, and almost criminally soft. Already pinned to it was a beautiful brooch, made in the shape of a four-leafed clover. Each leaf had a line of diamonds on the inside, followed by a line of emeralds, and then diamonds again, with a larger diamond at the center...the damn thing was probably worth more than Lasg'len, and she just knew he'd tell her to keep it. The fact that it was Irish, though - that he'd somehow wound up knowing the significance of four-leafed clovers - meant being given this didn't appall her. Unlike the necklace, she suspect it wasn't given solely to make her brain blue-screen. (She still wasn't taking it out of the Halls, though; thought of losing it was nightmarish.)

When she pulled the dress on, it hit her at about calf-length, and she discovered that there were black suede boots in the bundle as well, that, as it turned out, actually fit her tiny feet. The dress, mercifully, actually had rather large pockets, and in the right one she discovered her emerald necklace. Laughing, she shook her head and pulled her hair out of the way so she could fasten it around her throat.

She eyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She'd do, she supposed; the combination of the dress and the jewelry certainly made her eyes stand out. For some reason, she was almost reluctant to let Ratiri see her like this, which made no sense whatsoever. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped back out through the door.

Earlene looked up from lazily combing her hair near the fireplace; sometimes if she could keep it just so as it dried, the ends would all cooperate and turn under the way she liked them to. Catching sight of Lorna, her lips parted. "Sure god, you look beautiful in that! Damn, now I want black velvet," she joked, though she would never have the nerve to actually ask Thanadir to make something like that; it would feel too impudent. Standing up, she moved closer. "The pin is perfect...where in hell would he get a four leafed clover? Makes you wonder how far back some of the traditions go, doesn't it?" Leaning down, she said very softly, "If Ratiri doesn't lose his eyeballs at seeing you, there's something wrong with that man."

Lorna burst out laughing, though there was a slight edge of...not nerves, not quite, but close...to it. "It does make me wonder," she said. "Even looking at the gates, how Celtic they seem in places, I've got to wonder just how much they gave us over the centuries, on purpose or not."

She smoothed at the velvet. The fact that it fit so well made her feel a lot less awkward in it - not like a little girl playing dress-up (though she probably was wearing some little elf girl's dress, but whatever. She wasn't going to think about that.) "Here goes nothing, I guess."

Ratiri still felt vaguely as though he shouldn't actually be in here, for all he'd been invited. He had only within the last five days discovered elves were actually real; to be sitting in the Elvenking's parlor was beyond surreal. How did Lorna treat it all so...normally? It had been so little time for her.

His eyes traveled the fireplace, the smoothness of the stone walls. "When I was a kid," he said, "I wanted to be in The Hobbit. I wanted to live somewhere like this, but my dad said life didn't work like that, that there wasn't any point in dreaming of something that couldn't ever be real. He wasn't mean about it or anything; he was just a man who believed only in what he could see and touch. And then he went a married a Hindu." To this day, Ratiri didn't understand how his parents' marriage could have been as happy as it was.

Thranduil looked at him in sympathy. This man had a fine mind, by comparison to every human male he'd yet met, come to think of it. His struggle to reconcile what he was seeing here with the backdrop of his existence to date was tangible, and entirely understandable. When he had chosen to reveal himself to Earlene, he had been in control of that introduction, as he was now. He wondered how well he, or any of his people, would fare had they not known the human world existed and yet found themselves drawn into it as suddenly as this one had.

"And so you are finding it difficult to process that this dream turned out to have a basis in reality? That would be completely understandable."

Ratiri nodded. "I am. Of all the things I never would have expected to find...I came to Ireland because I needed something else. All I thought I'd run across would be beer, football, and possibly fewer sheep. That I should wind up in Baile, and meet Lorna, and all of you, it still somewhat beggars belief."

"You were supposed to be here. Otherwise you wouldn't be." Lorna paused. "That sounded a lot more profound in my head."

Ratiri turned in his seat, and promptly turned into a mute idiot. He'd thought she'd looked like a fae before, but in that dress - it was simple, exactly what she needed, because she was so small too much decoration would have looked off. It matched her hair, still damp, hanging loose down to her thighs. And those eyes of hers; yes, she was a sprite, albeit a sprite with a foul mouth and a penchant for crawling into small spaces with no forethought.

He could not help smiling at the man's thoughts, just as he could not help having Thanadir prepare these garments in the hopes that she might have occasion to wear them. That Lorna had obliged him in the manner she did exceeded his hopes. And if he were very lucky, the kitchen staff would not ask too many questions about the soot on the floor. Which reminded him. There was yet time before dinner, and perhaps Ratiri would like to see his rooms.

"May I borrow you for a few minutes, Ratiri? This will not take long." Thranduil stood up without explanation and gestured to the doorway.

Wondering what on earth, but not feeling as though it would be polite to decline his host's wishes, he gazed with thinly veiled longing at Lorna, who merely smiled and waved as they left.

Walking though more mazelike passages, they eventually stopped. Ratiri was beginning to wonder how anyone learned their way around here, and whether a Minotaur would appear.

Thranduil shook his head, chuckling, and pushed open the door. "I am aware that at the moment, you have no lodging to call your own. Make of it what you will, but these are your rooms now, if and when and whenever you wish to stay with us. Lorna has her own rooms here as well; they are not in short supply. You may consider anything you find in here to be yours. I understand this is not...usual, for humans to be offered a home, but among our people the basic needs of life are considered to be a right, not a privilege. I realize that it will take you time to learn your way to the Halls as well as through the Halls, but it all makes sense soon enough; Earlene was able to master the path to our rooms by her third visit. And I will tell you the same thing I told Lorna; when you are within the borders of my realm, I am able to hear your mind. The tree at the base of Earlene's driveway marks the outer edge on that side; so if you to go to her home I will know you are here. Someone will come to walk you here, until you are certain of the path."

Ratiri blinked at him, unable to conceal his startlement. To be given rooms here, on his first visit...he had no idea what to say. Then again, Thranduil was a telepath; he didn't need to say anything. "Thank you," he managed, inadequate though it was. "This is more than I would have ever believed possible. This is…" This was the dream of a lonely boy in a small Scottish village, isolated by his complexion. He was never really bullied - that waited until Glasgow - but he was too different. He didn't play sport; he read, he walked for hours on the moors, in all weathers. His height and strength kept him from being accosted, as well as the fact that his dad was the village doctor: nobody wanted Doc Duncan pissed at them. Mainly, he was alone, and filled that loneliness with books and stories and daydreams. Even his vivid imagination, however, could not have conjured this.

A hand was laid on Ratiri's shoulder, and he turned his head to see a face filled with understanding. "I will leave you here for just five minutes; I have one brief errand to attend to just down the passage, and then I will return. I thought you might wish to look around; if you have any questions I am happy to answer them but I imagine that rooms are rooms," he said with a smile.

They were exactly what Ratiri would expect of rooms in the Woodland Realm - the walls were carved here and there with the delicate silhouette of trees, the fabrics of the furniture rich and soft, embroidered with leaves and branches. The bed, when he tested it, was possibly the softest thing he had ever felt, and thought of returning to Indira's too-short couch made him wince. The mattress was actually long enough - he suspected he'd find a great deal in this place was properly sized for him, given Thranduil's height.

He ran his fingers over one of the carved posters of the bed, wondering how long it had taken some elf to painstakingly etch a delicate garland that crawled all the way up it. To elves, time was immaterial; when you literally had eternity to do it, producing works of immense beauty was likely...not easy, but certainly not so difficult as it would be for a human.

As promised, the King returned when he said he would, and they walked back to his rooms.

Thanadir had excused himself to oversee meal preparations, leaving Lorna and Earlene occupied with drying their hair.

"I don't mind this at all, in fact I love it, but there are days my hair dryer in the cottage has a certain appeal," she sighed, as she hung her head forward closer to the warmth of the fire."

"Can't say I usually bother, but, that makes sense," replied Lorna, who in truth had never owned a hair dryer. Yet it seemed like the thing to say.

"You know," Earlene said in a rare moment of mischief, "one of these days we've got to get our hands on that wine again. I mean, I don't want to get us sick or anything but….sure god...I've never laughed so hard or felt so good in my life. I've never done street drugs but...is it wrong to admit I can't stop thinking about that stuff? How much harm could it do if we just poured out that same tiny bit, but then had the brains to take it by the drop instead of a shot glass' worth? I can't help but think it would be the perfect evening." She chuckled. "Especially if the right stupid movie were involved."

"It's not wrong at all," Lorna said, tilting her head back a bit. Sitting far enough away from the fire to avoid overheating her hair took some calculation, but she was pretty sure she'd worked it out. Nothing smelled like it was burning, anyway. "I can't stop thinking about it, either. It's not just like booze, it's a bit like weed, and - well, a few others I'd rather forget I took. I think - oh, hell, you know what we should watch? Monty Python and the Holy Grail." It was a great stoner flick; watched while seemingly stoned and drunk was a fantastic idea, she was sure.

"God...that would be so fun," she giggled. "Well, we'll both have to keep our eyes out. And even trickier will be to not think about it around Thranduil...who for all we know is hearing this. But...I don't do it often, but I can keep him out. It isn't easy, but I'm trying right now. Who knows, maybe he wouldn't care. Yet somehow I doubt it will be offered again. The trick will be getting him to start drinking it around us while pretending to realize we shouldn't have it." Laughing more, she said, "you don't know until you try. But if we could just make off with even the dregs of a bottle, we'd be golden."

"If I wanted to be a shite, I could just think in Irish," Lorna said, and did just that - though trying to speak in English and think in Irish wasn't the world's easiest proposition. It helped that she'd literally grown up speaking both, at least. "How can you do it? Keep him out, I mean? I wouldn't think a human could manage that." It might be a useful thing to know - especially if things progressed with Ratiri at any point. Barraging Thranduil with thoughts of a less than pure nature would be, well, rude, especially since she was certain he didn't share her admiration of Ratiri's arse.

"Well, all I can say is if you're not an expert at it, don't try, he isn't stupid. And it's a kind of meditation I learned long ago, where you practice thinking about nothing. Somehow, if that is at the forefront of your mind, it muddles his ability to hear...but I was also warned, if he truly tries to look, it is impossible to hide from him. We sort of have an agreement...I can have my little games from time to time, but I don't try to hide important things. And it's fine; I love him and I don't really want to."

Lorna wondered what it would be like, constantly having someone being able to read your mind without being able to read theirs in return. It was one of a very few things she literally couldn't imagine, even though she'd spent time in the forest. She was pretty sure Thranduil wasn't in her head nearly as often as he was in Earlene's, and Earlene lived here all the time, unlike Lorna. "If he knew why I was thinking about it, he'd thank me," she said, drawing a comb through her hair. "I find Ratiri dead sexy. I'm quite sure Thranduil does not. I really doubt he'd mind if I found a way to...to blank that, every so often. Which, if this goes anywhere, we ought to teach Ratiri, too." That would probably seem even worse to Thranduil, given that she was something approximating a shit of a little sister. She knew how squicked she'd be, if she couldn't help overhearing Earlene's racier thoughts.

"What does he do, though, if you ever get pissed and think something awful?" she asked. "I mean, even with the people I love, I've got furious and thought all sorts'v nasty shite that I'd never voice, because I know it would'v hurt them. I'd think that'd be awful for the both'v you, not being able to keep anything apart. I mean, there've been times I've wanted to rip Mairead's head off and shit down the hole, but even then there's things I'd thought that I wouldn't've wanted her to know." She knew how she'd feel, if she'd had no way to keep those thoughts from Mairead - and how she'd feel if she was Mairead, and could hear them all.

"Nothing, ever," said Earlene, surprised. "I...don't know how much he told you about what his father did to him but I'll tell you that it had to do with telepathy. It was the worst kind of mental abuse imaginable, in which any wrong thought was held against him. I can't say more both out of regard for his privacy and for the fact that I'll smash something because even thinking about it just enrages me, that someone could do that to their own son…." with visible effort, she regained some semblance of composure. "He made it clear that no matter what I ever thought, it would never be held against me. He knows I am a human; however disciplined my mind is on average, it isn't what an elf can do or be. It would be like….forgive the comparison, it would be like punishing a dog for not being a human. He just would never do that. I have gotten the impression that being a King has meant on some level being like a dad, except to about a zillion people. If you're a good dad, you know when to step in and you know when to back off. Except for one rough patch at the very beginning, he's not ever disappointed me." Then again, she teased, "I'd guess that I am not even capable of thinking some of the colorful things that must cross your mind. I feel like my life was more on the boring side, give or take."

That wasn't quite what Lorna had meant. "I wouldn't've even thought'v that," she said. "I more meant...how can he handle it emotionally? I know if I was Mairead, and could've heard some'v the things I thought over the years, it'd hurt like hell. I mean, you deal with it, but it's not something you forget, right? Christ, you don't ever really forget even shite you yell at each other, if it's bad enough."

"Aahhh, I did not understand your question correctly at all. Oops." She sighed. "He can handle it. Something happened, recently. I remembered something really ugly from a long time ago. I'd forced myself to forget it but it surfaced again, for lack of better words. He came to me, and part of how he tried to console me involved letting me see inside of his mind. Don't ask me how he did it; it was very brief. He said that it is incredibly difficult to let a human see into him in that way. I'm still working out how to put that experience into words. How do you process that you are the only human being to have ever seen into the mind of another? But, I can tell you that what I saw there was strength. He has emotional strength beyond anything I could have imagined, and a depth of concern for others that goes with it. I'd hazard to say that Thranduil is the last person on this planet you need to worry about, in that respect."

Lorna shook her head, ruefully. "He's forever telling me I haven't got to worry, but that's not easy for me. I worry about people. It's what I do. I blame Gran and Mairead for it mostly, but I sort'v...even when I was a kid, I took care'v my siblings, for all I was the second youngest. It's just in me. He didn't give me any details about his da," she added, drawing the comb through her hair again, "but given that he knows what my da was like, and said that his was much the same, he didn't need to. I know my da would've done, if he'd had telepathy, so I've got a pretty good idea what happened to him. My da was a hitter, sometimes out'v bloody nowhere - none'v us ever wanted him to walk past us, in case he got a wild hair up his arse and decided to backhand one'v us. Didn't take much guessing to think Thranduil's was probably the same but worse. At least I had three siblings to divvy it up between; he was the only one." She had no idea how to even ask just what it must have been like, seeing into Thranduil's mind; if someone as eloquent as Earlene had a hard time processing it, it had to be indescribable.

She laughed. "I think 'colorful' is one way'v putting it," she said. "He told me my mind was...I think he called it a joy? Something like that. He told me not to be ashamed of the random shite it vomits up, because it's entertaining. I was so bloody embarrassed every time I thought up some curse word he'd never heard before. But he's -he's good at dealing with ugly things from people's pasts. I felt like shite dumping it on him, but I had him fix my memory'v Liam's death. I still - it's still there, but it doesn't hurt like it did. I haven't had the nightmare since then."

"If it's anything like what he did for me after my 9/11 issues...then I'm just glad for you. It's pure poison, what experiences like that can do to a person. I hope I didn't completely piss off Ratiri with what I said awhile ago, about human medicine...I realized when I walked away how that might have sounded. I was referring to what Thranduil did for me after that because I've felt...almost angry in a way...they hand you pills and tell you to talk to people and then it really never makes a difference; you can't get it out of your head. But Thranduil did, and…I forget Ratiri likely doesn't know about me. Ugh. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time I've put my foot into my mouth. And for the record, I don't care what you tell him about me. It feels to me like before this grand adventure is over with, we three humans are going to know each other quite well" she snorted.

Lorna wasn't going to mention that he had looked a bit pissed, until Thranduil clarified. "It was poison," she said. "Bad enough that I tried repressing it for eleven years, but it came out in my nightmares. I hesitated to drop it on Thranduil because while I know he's seen all sorts'v awful shite, it might'v given some'v them a run for their money." She shook her head again, with a crooked smile. "In prison, after I'd killed my da, they sent me to a psychiatrist," she went on. "The woman wouldn't leave off, wanting to know why I didn't feel any guilt even though it was an accident, so I finally bit her. That was the end'v that."

Earlene laughed. "I met with a few psychiatrists that I wanted to do that to as well. I'm actually a little jealous of that solution. I don't know what it is about those people but I've not met one yet that isn't a complete goddamn prick. They started at me like I was something on a microscope slide, as if I was in there because I'd asked to feel that way. The only reason I put up with it was because I needed the medicine, and without them I couldn't get it. Yeah, that was fun," she muttered. "And you got put away for doing in your sack-of-shite-child-abusing da? Isn't that fucking typical. In the States...I can't even read about it anymore. Case after case in which an abused woman kills the jerk in self-defense and then she ends up getting twenty years. It's a damn travesty."

"And here I thought it was just the one I'd dealt with," Lorna said. "I did. Got five years for manslaughter, because I didn't actually mean to kill him. He was drunk off his arse, I lamped him, and he tripped down the front steps and smashed half his own skull." She was amazed, just how easily she could speak of this now. "I might've got a lighter sentence if I'd lied and said I was sorry, but you've seen how crap'v a liar I am. Though if prison did me one good thing, it gave me an education. I'd left school at fourteen, but the prison had a library, so I made up for some'v it. Still can't handle more than basic maths, but I learned a lot'v history. And Russian, though I got that from my cellmate."

"I can't imagine how...frustrating that would feel," Earlene said. "There is a part of me...this having been a lawyer thing. You don't go into it because you actually want to do some good in the world, you go into it because you like playing games. That was the appeal of it for me; who is more clever than whom, and the best argument wins. I tried not to let myself think about it over the years, that I'd chosen this profession that was based on a system that was so flawed it wasn't funny. I could never have gone into criminal law because I think dealing with cases like yours would have sent me over the edge….my life was just a focused mental exercise until I decided to walk away from it. I don't know, I think I'm still trying to work out what I thought," she trailed off.

"I have to admit, the fact that I'm Irish isn't the only reason I'd never've sworn fealty," Lorna said. "I swore after I got out'v prison that nothing and no one would ever control me again. Everything I've done since, the life I'd built in Baile, was under my terms and mine alone. Thought'v handing over even the tiniest bit'v my freedom just about gives me hives, thanks to that damned place." She looked at Earlene. "You know, I'd wondered what would draw someone to law. My only experience was with defense lawyers, and only the young ones seemed to have much heart in it. What did make you decide to walk away from it? - from the fact that Niamh nearly shit a brick, you must'v worked for an even more prestigious firm than I'd first thought."

Earlene sighed. "This might not make a ton of sense. And yeah, my marshmallow floated at the top of the cup of cocoa, you might say. 'Prestigious' barely covers it; there was nowhere else to go up. I'm fairly sure half my office thought I was entirely mad, to choose what I did; plenty of people wouldn't want to let go of what I had. But anyway. I liked to run, for exercise, and over the years most of that happened in Central Park. Do you know what an obelisk is?" she asked, not wanting to insult Lorna's intelligence but realizing that this was not high on everyone's vocabulary list.

"They're Egyptian things, yeah?" Lorna said. "Haven't you got one somewhere over there - a big, tall white one? Can't recall what it's called at the moment." It looked rather like the Erection at the Intersection, just made of plaster.

"Yeah, those are the things. Ours is called 'Cleopatra's Needle,' at least to New Yorkers. Well, I never could say why, but for every run I ever took I wound up in front of the damn thing, like it was some kind of magnet. I'm probably one of the few people on the planet that managed to memorize all of what's written on it; there are plaques with translations at the bottom. But anyway. I just had this...thought? epiphany? mad realization? enter my mind one day that I belonged in New York about as much as that obelisk. And I never stopped thinking it, and my mind turned to how I dreamed of living here when I was a kid at gran's farm and hearing her tell the family stories. It became this obsession that wouldn't go away. And I realized, I had enough money, I'd already done it all, and maybe there was more that I should be getting out of life than what I was doing. Like I said, I think I'm still working on that one...everything that's happened to me since coming here has made my plans seem less clear than they were when I made them."

"Isn't it weird, the things that can make us pause?" Lorna said. "And sometimes, that pause is all you need to realize you ought to be doing something else. Then you wound up here and got seduced by an elf, and the rest has been history. I know you said you don't believe things happen for a reason, but I think sometimes we're just in the right place at the right time for us to think'v something we might otherwise not. If we're lucky, that turns out well. You ran in Central Park in the right place to see that obelisk; I don't know how big the park is exactly, but I think it's big enough that you could've easily run elsewhere, right? Sometimes things just...happen, and if our eyes are open, we can do something."

Earlene chuckled. "The Park is huge, but I'm partial to the big museum, which is close by the obelisk. But, yeah. And maybe that's another part of it, what you just said. I'm not religious. But then all this happens, and there are the Valar and Eru, and the elves insist they are dead-on real. Not like religions at all, but beings they've seen and talked to. Lots of them, not just one or two to where you can chalk it up to delusions and wishful thinking. I'll confess that while I'm still not really ready to believe in anything like that, it's got me wondering. And...I need to read so much more. I think the Tolkien books...but I've not had time in this rush to learn Sindarin…"

With that, Thranduil returned with Ratiri, announcing that within twenty minutes, Thanadir would bring their meal. He seemed especially enthusiastic about it, though if there was a reason, it went unmentioned. Earlene and Lorna looked at each other and shrugged, as if to say "girl talk over."

Ratiri had seen much, and had much to think about, but when he looked at Lorna, he forgot most of both. The dress was lovely, but her hair, now dry, looked like liquid silk, the silvery threads glinting in the lamplight. She was tiny and lovely, and he both wanted to touch her and was terrified to.

Lorna, for her part, was feeling suddenly awkward under the weight of his stare. It wasn't creepy or anything, but it was - intent. She had a feeling that he was one of those people who gave whatever currently occupied his attention the whole of it, and she wasn't used to being the whole of anyone's attention for very long. Neither one of them seemed capable of speech, which even she thought was sadly hilarious.

Earlene decided to risk a query. "Do you have wine that isn't Elven wine here, Thranduil? It would be nice to have some. Maybe I should get some cases, to keep here?"

Taken aback at the now delicate subject, he considered."I am not certain, meluieg. And yet there is time, it would be very easy for me to check the wine cellars."

"You have cellars? Where are those? I took a class on winemaking once, those are all very interesting." Truthfully, she had. She needed an undergraduate science course for graduation, and had decided to enroll in the very popular enology general ed class. And, the thought was the perfect mask to her real intent.

"You are forgetting your films, meluieg. They are off of the dungeons of course, where it is uniformly cool in the deepest parts of the Halls."

"Hm" she acknowledged the answer with an interested nod, setting her mind back onto dinner as he left. Only when he was quite some minutes gone did she look at Lorna with a grin that said 'up to no good.'

Ratiri immediately wondered if he could see them - he wanted to see the cellar where Bilbo and the dwarves had escaped, because his inner fanboy demanded it. He followed Thranduil, after a question of _Can I go with you?_ This telepathy thing was odd, but he was already deciding it had its uses.

Lorna smirked. If Ratiri knew the way, maybe she could talk him into helping them on their mission - and, because Ratiri didn't yet know there was a mission, Thranduil could see nothing in his mind.

Thranduil and Ratiri returned, bearing two sealed bottles of...whatever it was. Earlene paid careful attention to labels on them. "I can read the characters and the number but...what does this mean? How does this work?"

"What do you think it says," Thranduil asked.

"T. A. 2915" she replied.

"If I tell you that the 'A' stands for 'andrann', can you guess at the other?" he asked.

 _Oh, nuts_ , she thought. She was supposed to have memorized cardinal and ordinal numbers for her next lesson...what absolute bad luck not to have completed that task. _But...it started with a 'T'...crap...min, tâd, that is the only "T" one but….dammit...to make it an ordinal number it chances to...shite...tadui?_ Her teeth clamped down on her lip. "I have to guess tadui andrann (second age) because I cannot be certain," she confessed sheepishly. "I guess this will teach me not to slack off."

"Meluieg, that is correct, you did well for being unsure," he said, leaning down to kiss her. He truthfully was very proud of her.

Relief washed over her. "So that was when it was bottled?"

"Yes, and though you would not have a way of knowing this, bottles are identifiable by region by their style. Each winemaking area with which we traded long ago used a certain kind of bottle, as each area had a certain kind of glassmaking custom. These came from an edain settlement near the sea of Rhûn; we kept a supply for guests that were not elves," he remembered fondly.

Her eyebrows raised, because she remembered perfectly well the shape and appearance of the elven wine he'd opened, though apparently he'd not brought any with him tonight.

"We may as well have this; I would say they are as aged as necessary at this point," he said chuckling.

Eyebrows raised further. Human wines of fine vintage could command thousands of dollars for having been aged decades; she'd been privileged to sample some truly costly specimens in her time. This might be extremely interesting, for one who enjoyed wine.

Lorna made idle note of all this, focusing on it only lightly; instead, she kept her mind on Ratiri, and how much she wished she was able to hold his hand without twitching. She wanted to, but she knew she couldn't, not yet. She thought of him, and of movie night - Monty Python, here they came. Possibly with coconuts, if she could get hold of any, because they would be utterly perfect. Perhaps, for the day, she would call herself Tim.

Thanadir arrived, bearing a tray that appeared to be so large and heavy that Earlene could not see how he could possibly manage it. If there was less than 30 pounds of food and dinnerware on it, it was news to her. Her polite offer to set the table was politely refused by the seneschal, who asked all of them to please be seated. With efficiency that put a professional butler to shame, he laid out the place settings, managing without a ruler or other measuring stick to set everything down in perfect relation to the other objects. In an amazingly short time, wine was poured, and plates were being filled with what appeared to be an unusually delicious repast. When it was politely permissible for her to do so, Earlene sampled the wine. _Beam me up, Scotty_ , she thought as her eyes widened. "Thranduil, have you any idea how much this would sell for at a fine wine auction? Not that it matters, but after this I don't know how I can ever open an ordinary bottle for you again."

Her King did not respond, but merely smiled and laughed. To him the entire notion must just seem silly. Earlene shrugged, determined to enjoy her thousand-dollar-a-sip vintage.

Ratiri was not what one might call a wine connoisseur; he enjoyed a glass every now and again, but he'd rarely bothered with truly fine wines. This, though - he'd never had anything remotely as good, and suspected he never would again, unless it came from the elves.

This day had been odd, and wondrous, and more than he would have ever dared imagine since he was a child. He was here, and this was real; the halls, the elves, all of it. He could go back to his ordinary, shiftless life, knowing that he could return. There was more out there than he'd thought; wanting to believe had actually paid off. He wondered what other surprises lay in wait, and looked forward to finding them.


	30. Chapter 30

The next day, Earlene and Lorna walked ahead of the males by some distance, at which time Earlene elaborated on the concept of aur en onnad, figuring that if nothing else Lorna would learn three new Sindarin words that might be able to stick. Plus the weirdness that elves celebrated conception, but hey, what did it matter when the elleth carried a baby for 12 months? It was as good as a birthday. "And Thranduil's is March 30," she said with a smile and a sideways glance.

Lorna put the two pieces of information together with blinding speed. "Party?"

"Yep."

"Pub?"

"Just my thought exactly."

"I'm on it," she grinned.

"Perfect, and I can catch you up with a few other things by email. Today is finally the seed planting for the garden and…." Earlene quickly filled the conversation with drivel so that their thoughts would not attract Thranduil's notice.

Soon, Lorna was motoring back toward Lasg'len. Her new van was still having issues, so she'd borrowed Mick's again; Aislinn's own van was done and gone, so she had nothing to worry about.

She'd talk to John later - she had to meet Shane in Dublin soon, and see if she couldn't make him shit a brick when he saw what she'd brought him. The little bag rested securely in her coat pocket; it was a bit warm for a coat, but her jeans wouldn't hold it without looking weird. She was a bit too conscious of what she carried, which meant that her knife was in her other pocket.

Blissfully, she could drive however the hell she pleased for once, so she did precisely that, leaving a number of aggravated and/or terrified motorists in her wake. It meant she reached Shane's in about half the time it would have taken if she'd had a passenger.

She hadn't actually seen him since before she'd gone to prison, though they'd spoken on the phone a few times. Though he moonlighted as fencer of things both cheap and expensive, like her, his enduring love was cars. He ran everything out of his mechanic, which looked rather like Mick's, though less shabby on the inside. It smelled like rubber and metal and motor oil, and she paused a moment to breathe it in.

"You've got shorter."

"Oi, fuck you, too," Lorna said good-naturedly. Shane hadn't changed terribly much; there was grey in his dark ponytail, lines on his face that had not been there when last she saw him, but he was still tall, and he hadn't let himself go physically. "You bloody giant."

"Not my fault you're the size'v a goddamn sprite," he said, and swept her up into a brief hug. "C'mon, let's talk."

He led her into his tiny office. He certainly wasn't dressed like any kind of fencer; he had on the same sort of oil-stained coveralls Lorna and Mick wore at work - but then, that might well be why he was so successful. He didn't look like he did what he did.

His desk was somewhat cluttered, and he shoved a few stacks of paper and a half-empty coffee cup out of the way so that she could spread out her gems, lining them up in a row.

Shane stared at them, and at her. He hadn't wanted to believe the photos she'd sent him; while he knew she'd never lie to him, he also knew she had no idea how to tell a real jewel from paste. But when he picked up a ruby - Jesus, a seven-carat ruby - he realized this was in fact legit.

"Lorna," he said, holding the gem up to the light, "I'll not ask where you got these, but are you in some kind'v trouble?"

"How stupid d'you think I am?" she retorted. "These're legit, okay? The people that have them, they've had them for a bloody long time, and don't see the point in sitting on them and letting them gather dust any longer." That was a slightly mangled metaphor, but whatever.

"How long?" Shane asked, setting the ruby down and picking up a diamond. This one he needed his jeweler's glass for, yet it appeared disturbingly perfect.

Lorna shrugged. "About four hundred years."

Four hundred years - nobody had ever accused Shane of being stupid. If whoever these people were weren't descended from pirates, he'd be very, very bloody surprised. Either they were, or they'd stolen it all from an actual pirate family (also a possibility, though not overly likely; a pirate family that got robbed was a pirate family that got revenge). "And there's more?"

"Some," she said, not willing to give away a damn thing - not because she distrusted Shane, but because she was having a bit too much fun. "Can you fence it?"

"Some'v it, yeah," he said, setting down the diamond and picking up another. "If you don't mind it, I'll have to get in touch with another fencer. I just don't know the kind'v people who'd be able - or willing - to buy much'v this, let alone more'v it."

It was disappointing, but Lorna had expected it. "I trust you," she said. "There's a higher cut in it for you if you've got more contacts up the food chain, so to speak."

"I do," he said, "but I don't want to let them in on the whole'v this yet. I'll feel one out with this ruby first."

Lorna snickered. She couldn't help it. "That's what she said."

Shane burst out laughing. "Nice to know you haven't changed," he said, shaking his head. "Have you got time to stay?"

"Not long," she said. "I've got work. And yes, it's legal work," she added, before he could ask. "I'm a PA for an American lawyer."

Shane blinked, genuinely nonplussed. "You. A PA. For a _lawyer,_ " he said. "How the hell did _that_ happen?

Lorna had already come up with the abridged (and technically true) version: "I met her in a pub, and stopped off at her house just while some gobshite delivery man was giving her a hard time. I dealt with him, and now I'm a PA and...and cultural translator." It was a term she'd made up, but it sounded fancy.

Shane shook his head. "Only you, Lorna. Only you. Don't get yourself shot."

"Piss off," she said fondly. "I'll come and stay longer when I've got a chance."

She did stop long enough in Dublin to pick up Thranduil a T-shirt, since he'd need a collection: this one was black, with the Enterprise stenciled on it in white, with the words GET IN LOSERS above it, and WE'RE GONNA BOLDLY GO below in the original series' font. He would love it or hate it, but either way, Earlene would probably laugh.

"It is your aur en onnad, there is a celebration for you at the pub beginning at five o'clock, and you will go. That is, unless you want to no-show on the entire village that is looking forward to feeding you and watching you drink. Your choice, entirely, but I should warn you that Thanadir and I have already agreed to attend. And, if you refuse you will disappoint Lorna, who has planned this party," Earlene said, grinning from ear to ear at the look of disbelief and initial refusal she had heard from him. "You wished to be involved with the human world, and part of the human world is that we celebrate birthdays. It is no different for you than it would be for anyone else. It is to show the recipient a nice time and allow them to be among friends, and it is an excuse for everyone else to eat fussy food and drink."

Thanadir was deeply involved with his computer screen and pretended not to hear, but now that she knew him better she did not miss the subtle twitching at the corners of his mouth that betrayed his actual level of amusement at the predicament of his King. Looking away lest she further compromise his co-conspiratorial efforts, she returned her gaze to Thranduil. Walking to him, she reached up on her toes to murmur in his ear. "I made chocolate syrup, for afterward," ending her sentence with a vivid mental image of the use to which she intended to put it. And truthfully, there was a chef's squeeze bottle of a very well-made chocolate sauce (the store-bought stuff was unbearable) in her purse. Along with a small, wrapped bundle with a ribbon and bow around it, from her and Thanadir.

"Very well," he said, half-placated and half-badgered. "Just do not think I have forgotten YOUR aur en onnad, Thanadir," he said with a smirk.

The seneschal looked at him with eyes that could melt a glacier, so warm and innocent and long-suffering did they look. Earlene could not help but snicker. _So he *does* know what those beautiful orbs are good for, after all_ , she realized. _Elves._

At the appointed hour, the three of them walked to down. Because of their probable final destination in the Halls, she asked if she could wear human clothing to this party, and bring her cloak with her. Thanadir had since provided her with other altered dresses, and she could just as easily wear proper attire once there. _As if attire is going to be necessary in the King's rooms tonight_ , she mused. Perhaps he would have been less resistant to the entire idea of attending the party if she'd mentioned the custom of Birthday Sex along with it...shrugging her shoulders to herself, she looked up at him.

 _Is that a more pleased expression I see on your face, husband?_

 _Perhaps_ , he said, as the beautiful blue eyes looked at her with a sideways glance. The most intimidating and charming skill he possessed was to look at others in this manner that could be everything from imperious to highly seductive, without ever moving his proud head a single centimeter. A rumble of humor at her thought moved through him, as he patted her hand that rested on his arm. The light was dimming in the western sky, as crows in the distance fought noisily over a favorite branch in a nearby tree.

John at the bar (and Lorna would never, ever be able to think of him that way without humming "is a friend of mine, he gets me my drinks for free" under her breath) wondered why in God's name the elves would want to come back to the village, after the disaster with Sean.

"Because they know the rest'v us aren't like that, you eejit," Lorna said, downing a swallow of something sweet and dark and nameless, something John had brewed himself. "Now, I'll have the food taken care'v - I'll get some baked goodies from Siobhan in Baile, and I called Mairead and asked her to make a cake."

"Did she make the one we had at the wedding reception?" Bridie asked.

"She did. If she's feeling generous, she'll do it again; otherwise, I'll pay Siobhan extra. She's near as good with cakes, though not quite so much." And she made such amazing chocolate buns, which Lorna could now no longer eat. Chocolate syrup had been ruined for her, god dammit.

"We'll get things going," Bridie promised. "God knows there's enough greenery about now, and a few flowers we wouldn't have to buy from the shop. We can decorate it grand in here."

"You're saints, both'v you," Lorna said. "I'll be back."

She'd already phoned Ratiri yesterday; he'd be in Lasg'len by five or so, which was the earliest he could manage. He had work the next day, so he couldn't linger long, but it would be good for Lasg'len to see him, and him to see it. He'd wanted to know what in God's name they were to do about presents, and Lorna told him the general plan was to give him fun T-shirts, for when he and Thanadir went out into the world. Ratiri had not quite known what to make of this, but promised to try anyway.

He'd asked her several questions about the elves, but mostly he seemed to be content going over it all himself, and plowing through every single written work Tolkien had ever put out. He read at a rate that left her feeling quite inferior, honestly; even if she did get Thranduil to fix her damn dyslexia, she doubted she'd ever read _that_ fast. He'd got through The Silmarillion in a day and a bloody half, and she suspected it only took that long because he'd been called into work.

When she picked up her cake, Mairead made her promise to take pictures (Lorna suspected this was partly for Niamh's benefit). Siobhan, naturally, was her cheerfully perverted self, firing off all sorts of questions about both Thranduil and Ratiri, until Lorna threatened to jam a boot up her arse. She got her order of chocolate buns, cherry tarts, a blueberry loaf, and two dozen cupcakes - half of them chocolate, half vanilla, frosted with Siobhan's special buttercream frosting, the recipe of which was a completely secret. The elves might have human cooking beat in most respects, but in baking? Not so much, in Lorna's opinion.

She headed back to Lasg'len, purchases in hand, wondering what exactly the elves would make of this.

Sincerely hoping that this occasion would be free of fiascos, Thranduil held open the pub door for Earlene and Thanadir. Earlene saw the beautiful decorations and knew immediately that Lorna had pulled it off once again, as she asked if the elves wished Guinness (yes) on her way to see John.

"And how has business been?" she asked the bartender with a warm smile as she placed another hundred Euro note in front of him with a smirk.

"I wouldn't argue with her," Lorna said, passing by to hand out some buns to whoever was near. "You'll lose. Trust me."

"We'll start with three Guinness, please, John," Earlene said, determined to financially torment the poor man.

John still looked nervous about it, so she stuck a bun in one of his hands, and the money in the other. "There. Made it easier for you." The people of Lasg'len, she was sure, would have something of a difficult time with Earlene's easy generosity, mainly because it wasn't something that normally happened in real life.

"You people," he said, shaking his head, but he poured three drafts. "You'll be the death'v us, this generosity'v yours."

"That's what I keep saying," Lorna said. "It doesn't do any good, so you might as well not."

"It isn't generosity if I'm paying you for what I'm buying, silly. Your beer isn't free, nor are the lights, or the paper in the restrooms. You're running a business. But if you're really feeling bad and want to throw a spare pint at me for taking that kitten off your hands, I won't complain," she teased mercilessly. "And Lorna, once again you've outdone yourself. It looks lovely in here. And pardon me," she said, grabbing all three glasses in her two hands, "got to get the lads started." She waltzed away, obviously in fine humor.

Lorna laughed, shaking her head. "I'll let her know it was you lot," she said, and it mostly was; she'd just managed to stick a few ferns here and there. The garlands that festooned the pillars were simpler than they'd been for the wedding party, but this had been planned with far more haste. "That kitten is bloody adorable, by the way, even if it does like trying to crawl into my hair."

"So how does this work, this elf birthday party?" he asked.

"Well, so far as I know it," Lorna said, making grabby-hands for one of the jars of poitín, "it's not celebrating birthday, but conception. Elf ladies apparently know right away when they're up the yard, and an elf pregnancy lasts a year, so they celebrate when they, er, got started."

"A _year_?" Maire said, appalled. "Christ, just... _no_."

"My thoughts exactly," Lorna said, knocking back a shot of poitín. The burn, it was beautiful. "I mean, I doubt they get morning sickness as bad as us, but _still_. Walking around with a bowling ball in your gut for that long would be awful."

Earlene heard the chatter of the women at a slight distance and...wondered. She hadn't allowed herself a lot of time to think about her niece, Aidan, _everything_. But she just had this feeling, like a train coming down the tracks. There would be no way she could mentally tolerate raising Aidan's kid as a solo act because it was Aidan's kid. And that was a crummy thing to say, because she of all people knew that the best thing that could possibly happen would be to get anything with a pulse away from her toxic brother. For all she knew, it was a beautiful child and it certainly hadn't asked for Aidan to be her parent. And then she'd want a child of her own, because if she was going to be raising a child anyway, she would want one that was not Aidan's. And all of this seemed so wrong, and yet she knew herself to know that this would be exactly how she would feel. _Maybe it's not the worst, she thought. Children are conceived all the time for far less noble reasons. Children are conceived all the time for no reason other than wanting an orgasm_ , she reminded herself. _And maybe it is stupid to think about any of this when you're working off of guesses and a few sentences on a cheap card_. With a sigh, she took a large two swallows of the chocolate colored liquid and tried to see what else had been done around the room.

Ratiri arrived as soon as he could, bearing a rather inexpertly wrapped parcel. He was a bit hesitant to enter this bar sight unseen, because he knew how unwelcome most outsiders could be viewed by some. _Oh well_ , he thought, marching up the steps, _if they've got problem with it, it's not like I sleep here._

The pub wasn't quite so nice as Jamie's, but he suspected that was merely because he was so fond of Jamie's. It had been decorated beautifully, though: strands of garland made of live flowers, some wild, some store-bought, with metal lanterns, currently unlit, hanging from the ceiling. There was also a rather mouth-watering scent of baking, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since noon.

Mercifully, he spotted Lorna - she was sitting up on a pub stool, so he could actually see her in the crowd. He made his way to her, parcel under his arm, highly relieved.

"I was hoping you'd get here soon," she said, giving him a smile that nearly rendered him speechless.

"When I've got to, I drive like a Glaswegian," he said, a thing that didn't sound too inane to him. "Think I might have run someone off the M7 at some point, though."

Lorna laughed. "If a person lets themselves get run off the M7, they've only got themselves to blame. C'mon, let's go say hi." He noted that she came close to touching his arm, but hesitated, and he wondered why. Not wanting to be touched was one thing, but why not touch someone if you (apparently) wanted to? He'd ask Thranduil, except Thranduil seemed pretty intent on respecting everyone's privacy. So long as he wasn't accidentally doing anything that would drive her off, he wouldn't worry.

Earlene caught the almost-contact between Lorna and Ratiri and rolled her eyes. _And I thought I was bad_ , she mused. While in a million years she never would have dared approached Thranduil on her own, had them meeting each other normally somehow been an option, she blushed to remember the lack of time necessary (had it taken her even two seconds?) to accept that hand once it was held out to her. She wondered, had anyone ever tried to hit on her? Or was she oblivious, back then? It stood to reason that for a long time after 9/11, she was closed off tighter than Fort Knox but years later... _If I were to guess, I probably radiated untouchability. The job, my position, everything...when could there possibly have been time for a man, even if I would have been open to the idea of one?_ Shrugging her shoulders was followed by taking a generous swallow of ale; she was never going to know. But these two...it was so screamingly obvious they wanted each other and neither one of them had the nerve to make the first move, however tiny. And yet, it was Lorna. Earlene really had no idea how to help, or if she should; her tiny friend struck her as someone who could respond very badly to...interference. For the time being, she'd curb her impulses to shove them into each other. Or so she hoped.

Lorna ran into Bridie along the way, and introduced her and Ratiri to each other; she wound up glad Bridie was married, because she gave him a look of cheerfully open appraisal, and gave Lorna an entirely unsubtle thumb's-up behind Ratiri's back when they passed. It was all Lorna could do not to facepalm.

"Hi, Earlene," he said, when they reached her. He didn't think he sounded too nervous - and honestly, he wasn't. Yes, he was the lone Scot, but he was in a pub with an American and, oh yes, elves. "Lorna said we were bringing gifts?" He held up his parcel, not wanting to say what it was aloud, for he knew just how keen elven hearing was. There was no point spoiling the surprise - though honestly, Thranduil would know anyway. Dammit.

"Riiiiight," Earlene said brightly, fishing in her bag for her own little parcel. She'd done a solidly mediocre job on the wrapping, having only a copy of a local newspaper from Baile ('newspaper' being a generous term for the publication) with which to wrap it, but she managed, and Thanadir had extra ribbon and a gift for the clever tying of bows. As these were all basically useful gag gifts, she didn't mind in the least. Had she had time, she would have shopped in the thrift store for them. "Lorna, is the cake out? I thought we could put whatever presents showed up near it."

"I can get it out," Lorna said. "John didn't want to leave it where anyone could steal any before it was time. Where's our birthday boy?" she asked, ignoring the fact that such a title was totally wrong on Thranduil.

Earlene giggled, loving every moment of this, and nonchalantly pointed to the corner drinking ale.

Lorna looked at Ratiri. "Yeah, that's no good," she said. "C'mon, Ratiri. You and I are going to get that cake, and we're going to park it in front of him, and he's going to be the center of _everyone's_ attention." Hey, he'd made her wear a dress. It was fair game.

"Is that a good idea?" Ratiri asked, clearly a bit dubious.

Lorna grinned, just a touch wolfishly. "Oh yes." She led him back to the kitchens, where Mairead's cake resided in a cardboard carton. She took the lid off and revealed a cake frosted beautifully with green icing, blades of grass picked out here and there with a toothpick. "She didn't have time for trees, but a field'v grass'll do." The thing wasn't quite the same size as the wedding cake, but it was close. It had been agreed earlier that three modestly sized green candles would be all that were used, since a cake the size of the entire pub would still be unable to hold the right amount of candles for this occasion.

She bore it out into the main room, Ratiri going before her to part the way. "You," she said, when she reached the table, "need to cut this cake. Everyone, get over here while Thranduil cuts cake." She didn't actually smirk at him, but she didn't need to; he'd got her with the ovens, so now it was her turn.

Earlene whispered quickly to Lorna who nodded, before they broke out into "Lá breithe shona duit" (Happy Birthday to You). Earlene hoped like hell she'd remembered how Google claimed the words were pronounced. It must have been half-baked recognizable, because soon the entire pub joined in. Thranduil looked completely baffled as Earlene telepathically explained to him the custom of wishing for something privately, and then blowing out all the lit candles once the brief song was concluded. She almost lost both the song words and her train of thought when Thanadir began laughing. This party had already exceeded her expectations, and it had hardly begun.

No sooner had the Elvenking navigated this cultural hurdle than someone from the back yelled "Speech! Speech!" and Earlene again explained silently what was wanted.

Thranduil rose, smiling; at least he appeared to be a good sport about it. "Thank you, to everyone. We have had some interesting experiences in your world, since venturing out a little more since last we saw you. But I want you all to know that no other place has felt as welcoming, or as much like home as when we can be with those of you here. Your kindness in doing this for me is very much appreciated." He raised his drink amidst much applause and clinking of ale glasses.

 _Damn, that was a good speech_ , Earlene had to admit.

Lorna, however, heard a different speech in her mind. _If it is the last thing I do, I will find out your birthday, mellonenin dithen._

Well.. _.shit. But it is not my birthday_ , she said, arching an eyebrow ever so faintly. _You're the center of everyone's attention. Good speech, though._ She tipped him a vague salute, and John headed over to hand her both knife and cake-server.

Ratiri brought a large stack of paper plates, and Lorna, taking a bit of pity on Thranduil, didn't cut him a slice that was overly large; Mairead's cakes were very tasty, but he really didn't seem to want more than moderate amounts of sweet things all at once. _You can't say I never did anything for you_ , she said, placing a plastic fork on the plate before handing it to him.

John and Ratiri between them managed to get something of a line going, while the ladies of the Quilting Circle kept it tidy with a judicious application of canes and, in Mallaidh's case, cursing. Orla, fairly bouncing in her shoes, darted around the line and stared solemnly up at Thranduil, the fingers of her left hand in her mouth; her right, clutching a gift wrapped up in construction paper, was held behind her back. She removed them just long enough to say, "How old are you? Because I know you're not three. Grown-ups aren't three."

"Ah!" he said, bending down close to her. "I am older than three. But I cannot tell you how old I am." His voice dropped to a whisper as he cupped his hand near her ear. "Do you see that other elf over there?" he pointed at Thanadir. Orla nodded solemnly. "He says elves aren't allowed to say their age, and I'll get in big trouble if I tell you. But I can tell you, because you're my special friend, that I'm older than thirty. Shhh!"

With eyes as wide as saucers, the child began to skip away gleefully, before remembering that she had a present for him. Rushing back up to the King, she shyly put her little package in his hand, blurting out in a rush of words "Imadethisforyouhappybirthday" before darting back off across the pub. Flummoxed, Thranduil looked at the little brightly colored bundle, and Earlene explained that people were often given gifts on their birthdays from friends and family. The entire display was about the cutest thing she'd ever seen, and thanks to the attentions of the quilting club, Thanadir had seemingly been none the wiser concerning the latest besmirching of his character.

That...really was the cutest thing Bridie had ever seen. Orla hadn't had much time to make something, but she'd been adamant about it, and even made the wrapping herself. She ran up and wrapped her arms around her mother's leg.

"I did it," she stage-whispered.

"I know," Bridie said. "And you did it very well. Now come get in line so we can get some'v that cake."

Go she did, joining the queue, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. It was weird to see the grown-ups so excited, like it was a holiday or something. Well, a holiday that wasn't just a birthday.

Ratiri stood just a little ways back, watching for now. Watching was what he did; he surveyed who and what was around him before jumping to conclusions, or into actions that might blow up in his face. Lasg'len reminded him much of Baile, but not quite so...rowdy. They were welcoming enough to him, pressing a pint into his hand and trying to direct him at the nibbles set out for after the cake.

Watching Thanadir was a little more entertaining than it probably ought to be: he had the old ladies of the Quilting Circle around him like some kind of very chatty honor guard. One of them had a liberal second jumper of luxurious white cat hair atop her actual red one.

"And none'v them have pinched his cheek," Lorna said, honestly impressed. She'd been sure one would have broken down and gone for it by now, warning or no warning.

"Why would they?" Ratiri asked, mystified.

Lorna laughed. "He's got a face old ladies would love to pinch," she said. "I was terrified it'd happen when he and Earlene went to a meeting, but I guess not. I wonder if he knows he's got them hanging off his every word?"

Ratiri wasn't sure. Unlike Thranduil, he didn't seem to read minds without effort; if he couldn't do that, just how adept would he be at reading humans who weren't Earlene or Lorna?

Mick, bearing a pint himself, sidled up. "Lorna, what's this about elves being pregnant a year?"

She eyed him. "Why in God's name would you care?"

"Because...it seems a bit wrong, doesn't it?"

Lorna snorted. "To us, maybe. Not to them. And elves are a lot healthier than us just by nature, so I'd imagine elf ladies don't have the same shitty pregnancies we do." Though...that was a good point. She'd heard Earlene say she was thinking about a kid; would she have a human-length pregnancy, or an elven, or something in between? Probably something Ratiri ought to ask, since he actually knew all the terms, but she wasn't about to say so with Mick around. "Mick, this is Ratiri. Ratiri, Mick."

Their "Good to meet you's" were almost in stereo, and she grinned into her mug. Ease him in as she'd been eased in, and go from there.

"How's that arm coming along, Mick?" Earlene broke in cheerfully. "Lorna's not been beating on you, has she?" It amused her to no end that the cast she'd seen weeks ago had slowly become lost in color (Had the wrapping been blue to start with?) to steady layers of automotive grease. "I wanted to thank you too, for how much use of your van we've had lately...it's been appreciated, and Lorna is such a safe driver!" Earlene knew perfectly well that if no other comment she made could generate consternation, that this quip should get a rise out of Mick.

"Beating?" Mick said, eying his cast. "No, not beating. Cleaning, though…." He burst out laughing at the accusation that Lorna was anything remotely approaching a safe driver. The woman herself inhaled Guinness-foam, choking like a dying carp. "If you've managed to get her to drive safely, I'll nominate you for Pope my own bloody self."

"You -" _hack_ "-Mick, I'll-" _wheeze_ "-get you." Ratiri thumped Lorna on the back a few times. "You just wait, Mick," she warned, "I'll get you out to Dublin sometime, and you'll be trying not to piss yourself the whole way."

"Ireland is certainly very...Irish," Ratiri said, looking down at her. That, at least, was not something he thought sounded utterly asinine, because it was patently true.

Lorna grinned up at him. "Oh, you've no idea yet, mate. Earlene, she's been here long enough that she's getting an idea."

"How long did it take?" he asked, looking at her.

"Eh, maybe five days," she joked. "I had an Irish gran, it isn't like all this is completely news to me. And Mick, I'll be expecting my Pope hat when you've got a minute, because Lorna hasn't made me so much as flinch when she's driven us around. Though, I'll wager she's drunk a lot extra once she got home again to make up for it." Earlene did not often tease Lorna, but it was very hard to resist, just now.

Lorna, still coughing a little, laughed. "That I have, actually," she said, not about to mention the telepathic Xanax Thranduil had given her on the way to Dublin. "I'd not put you and Thanadir through my driving, though I'm not a hundred percent convinced Thranduil wouldn't actually enjoy it."

"Likes taking his life in his hands?" Mick asked, genuinely curious. Lorna poked him in the side.

"Hush, you. If he ever asks, I'll take him out. There's something about doing a hundred and twenty down the motorway…."

"I wouldn't think you could get away with that here," Ratiri said, surprised. "I managed ninety on my way back from Dublin, when I bought my car, but I wouldn't think you could get away with 120 even in the middle of the night."

Okay, Lorna had quite liked this man, but now she thought she might just love him. A driver after her own heart. She hoped Thranduil wasn't paying attention, because he'd never let her live it down.

"Bloody made for each other," Mick muttered into his mug. Lorna didn't kick him, but only because she was feeling benevolent.

Orla had found her way back to the Elvenking, and was currently occupied with telling him how she'd learned geometric shapes and demonstrating that she knew how to tie her shoelaces, from her new perch on his knee. And as she had an attentive audience, no end to her chatter was in sight. Bridie noticed from across the room and came to find her daughter. "Orla, come along now, Thranduil won't be able to open your present if you don't let him get to it." Delighted at the thought, Orla quickly jettisoned herself off of his lap and began jumping up and down in a sort of imaginary hopscotch around the pub floor, so great was her excitement. "Open mine! Open mine!" was heard by all in the high-pitched little voice.

Thranduil was trying to not look astonished as families and individuals laid wrapped items on the table at which he and Thanadir sat. He had not expected this, and was truly touched...and curious. What in the world would the mortals give him? As Orla was not to be denied, he picked up her brightly wrapped package first, hearing from Earlene that tearing the paper was expected and permissible. Teasing the child, he made a very slow production of it. "You're not doing it fast enough!" Orla protested, much to Bridie's chagrin. Clearly she could take no more, so he tore off all the wrapping to reveal a….Earlene's hand flew to her mouth as she tried to keep from laughing. Thranduil held it up, painted popsicle sticks with bells hanging off of it. "It's a wind chime!" the little girl blurted out in her uncontainable enthusiasm.

"You made this?" Thranduil asked with a suitable look of wonder and gratitude on his face, as Orla eagerly nodded. He shook it gently, so that the tiny bells rang, to giggles from Orla. No adult there missed how kind he was to the little girl. "I shall treasure it," he said. "It will be on my favorite tree, so that I can listen to it in the wind!" Only then did he carefully pass it to Thanadir for safekeeping. Satisfied, Orla at last skipped away to see what food she might sneak while no one was looking.

Jesus, that was the cutest thing Lorna had ever seen. Mick, fumbling the box with his one good hand, set it down before Thranduil. The wrap-job was crude, but given that he only had one working hand, that was understandable. The elves would be so hard to shop for that she couldn't imagine what he'd got them.

"You might find that useful," Mick said. "Or at least, fun."

Thranduil thanked him and opened the box, which declared it to be a battery/solar operated radio. He knew the word but the device baffled him.

"Damn that's clever, Mick. Doesn't need electricity to run, and dead useful," exclaimed Earlene as she silently explained to her husband, whose face transformed into one of increasing eagerness as he thanked the man for his thoughtfulness.

Next came Earlene's gift. "You need some more things to wear that are very ordinary for humans, so you can blame me for receiving some of these items," she said, doing her level best to think about bricks while he opened it. He grinned up at her, knowing what she was doing to hide her gift from him. He pulled out...cloth; it was some kind of garment. With a baffling image of some kind on the front of it. "That is called a t-shirt," she said. "And that is a picture of an art sculpture that depicts the Irish hero Fionn Mac Cool and his hound dogs." She looked at the room. "Did we ever explain that since we can't really use their names outside of Lasg'len, we chose Fionn for Thranduil and Cian for Thanadir?…"

This was met with what seemed like general approval, if the nodding of the heads was any indication.

Lorna and Ratiri set down their parcels next, each hoping they hadn't somehow got the same thing. He looked at them both with bottomless amusement, surprised at just how much he enjoyed this feeling of curiosity coupled with hopeful expectation. Just because he suspected it would annoy Lorna a little more, he chose Ratiri's gift first; another t- shirt...but what in Arda…? "A map of Ennor?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief to see what he considered to be a drawing from his ancient history on a garment. "How do I put one of these on?" he asked Earlene. As he was wearing the simplest white tunic that was also reasonably fitted, she assisted him to pull it over his current clothing. He looked down happily at his shirt, and then smiled up at Ratiri with sincere thanks. "And now Lorna's…" should I be afraid?" he teased.

Ratiri was inordinately pleased; he'd hoped Thranduil would like it. He wondered if the elves had any idea just how popular the stories of them were, and had been for half a century. Maybe - oh. Oh. He had no idea how well this would go over, so he wouldn't mention it yet, but Comic Con. _Comic Con_.

Lorna snapped a few pictures of Thranduil with her mobile. She'd already decided she was going to make two scrapbooks, one for her and one for them. _Don't be afraid_ , she assured him. _It's not too weird._

He opened his package and…"Oh my," he said, as he held it up to look at what it said. Thanadir burst into laughter, harder than anything yet seen from him. Thranduil turned it around for public viewing. "We have been watching Star Trek, and it would seem that Lorna wishes us to never forget it." Earlene joined Thanadir in openly laughing...this one was never going to be forgotten. "Thank you, Lorna," he said with a grin, already forming ideas of what he would gift her with on her own occasion.

The next was from Rory, another t-shirt; laughter went up all around when the Guinness logo was revealed. Truthfully, the black color looked very good against his skin, Earlene thought. John gave poítin, Jack and Bridie a t-shirt with a distinctly local flair: "Lasg'len, est. 1658." Everyone laughed at Thranduil's response, as he held it up: "That was a good year," he joked. Lastly, the quilting club presented a truly beautiful medium sized decorative pillow with a pattern of a tree. Thanadir could not wait to look at it, poring over the stitches. Earlene guessed that this had been either a work already in progress or a completed project with which they were willing to part; having seen what was involved she knew that there was no means by which this had been done in just five days.

The cake was eaten with an unseemly speed that might have made Thanadir wince, but Lorna wasn't surprised; it was a Mairead cake, after all. She nursed another pint, and glanced at Ratiri. "Where'd you find that shirt?" she asked. "It's brilliant. He thought so, too."

"Amazon," Ratiri said. He had a slight smear of green frosting on his upper lip, and it was all she could do not to wipe it away. "I don't know that he and Thanadir properly understand how huge Tolkien's works are, but I mean to keep giving them little things. As long as they don't have anything to do with Mordor on them, anyway," he amended. "I doubt that would be a reminder anyone would want."

"Probably not," Lorna concurred. She snapped another pic of Thranduil, just because she found it so hilarious. "I don't know that they know what they have in you yet." She wasn't sure that _she_ knew, but instinct was instinct.

Thranduil thanked everyone again at what he hoped was sufficient volume, though it was obvious even to him that cake and the next round of drinks were of far greater interest. And as real food began to be uncovered, he perked up more. Quite a few assorted savory treats were appearing on the tables, and soon enough he was tucked away with more ale and a plate full of both pub fare and homemade delicacies. _Earlene had been right, this was a very nice occasion...if it held together_ , he thought, recalling from last time that it was not over yet. When it appeared to him that the mortals had all taken some food, he then prodded his seneschal to leave off staring at the stitch patterns on the pillow and go feed himself. Earlene was mingling around the room, but returning back to him every so often, beaming at how content he appeared to be and kissing him on the cheek.

Lorna, feeling quite mellow now, drew Ratiri around, introducing him. It didn't matter that she'd been in Lasg'len less than a month; she'd been absorbed into the elves, which was good enough for the village. It meant that Ratiri was welcomed, too - and, Lorna noted, an object of some fascination for the village's young, single women. Fortunately, he seemed somewhat disturbed by the attention, and stuck to her side. _How_ could someone so attractive be so awkward? It was adorable as hell, but it baffled her. Not that she at all minded, because she was, well, her.

"Will we be seeing much'v you?" John asked, leaning against the bar.

"Some," Ratiri said, "when I've not got work. I'm one'v the doctors in Baile, so I'm not exactly free to just come and go whenever."

"Neither was Lorna, at first," John said. "Somehow, things find a way'v working."

Lorna had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, and was just buzzed enough that she didn't care. She did, however, keep an eye on Ratiri; he had to drive home, after all. But he was Scottish, and a doctor, and she had little doubt he knew his limits far better than she did.

Ratiri, looking at one of the old women who stood clustered around Thanadir, turned to John. "Why does that women have half a white jumper?" he asked.

John snorted. "Mary? She's got three giant fluffballs she calls cats, which she spoils rotten. It's not safe to sit on any'v her furniture."

Earlene and Thanadir hadn't looked overly fuzzed when they came from their meeting, but there was still some. "You know," Lorna said, "years ago, I heard about this woman in America. If you brought her a garbage bag filled with your cat's fur, she'd spin it into yarn and knit a sweater for you. I wonder if Mary's ever heard'v her."

"No," John said. "Don't you bloody dare."

"C'mon, Ratiri," Lorna said. "Let's go cause some trouble."

The great thing about having such a tall companion was that it was quite easy to cross the room. She wanted to take his hand, she did, but she just couldn't do it yet. Mary stood near Thanadir, and Lorna didn't need telepathy to know she was desperately resisting cheek-pinching. "So, Mary," Lorna said. "Have you ever given any thought to knitting cat fuzz?"

Ratiri managed not to laugh - barely. He glanced at Thanadir, shrugging.

Mary looked mildly indignant at the suggestion that Hunnie Bunnie, Droopie and Wobbles would be party to any such action. "I think not," she said frostily, before giving Thanadir one last look of mild longing while promising to see him at the next meeting. To hear that he'd actually been making quilt squares exceeded her wildest h0pes for the elf. Swiftly returning to the rest of the gaggle of quilters, she continued her gossip. It involved struggle, but Earlene kept a straight face. They all lingered a bit longer, and Earlene decided that she would indulge in an extra half-pint, dumping the extra portion that would have sent her beyond the point of wisdom into Thranduil's glass. Earlene had gone rooting around for an empty wine box, and discreetly gathered up her husband's gifts into an orderly arrangement, carefully placing little Orla's wind chime on top. Thanks were given, and good luck's said, and the three of them stepped out into the night. It had been determined that Lorna would return to the Halls with them, but Earlene and the ellyn waited outdoors to give her a private moment (or as private as possible, in a village pub) with Ratiri.

"Come back, when you can," Lorna said. "You'll just get deeper and deeper down this rabbit hole, and it's brilliant."

"You'd have a job keeping me away," Ratiri said, smirking a little. "Not now, after all I've seen."

Lorna was just drunk enough that she hesitated. There was such _happiness_ in his grey eyes, a delight she understood all too well. Without pausing to think, she rose on her tiptoes - and it was on the very _tips_ of her tiptoes; god damn he was tall - and kissed him on the cheek, before taking off out into the evening air.

Ratiri watched her go, too stunned and too pleased to move right away. He stood for several minutes, unwilling to move yet, taking in the pub, the people...down the rabbit hole was right.

Thranduil was going to know what Lorna had done, and she did not care. Let him tease her.

The expected ribbing did not come. Thanadir held back and offered Lorna his arm, as Thranduil had already walked on with Earlene and was several feet ahead. And yet by the time they entered the woods, they were all together. Lorna had never seen this route, Earlene knew, and she recalled what the few other walks like this had been; pure magic. Her hopes were fulfilled when shortly after they passed into the woods and beyond the strange carven stone that marked its border, Thanadir began to sing. Whether it was a trick on her mortal mind, an enchantment of the woods, or that she now had a better understanding of their tongue she did not know, but everything around her seemed more...real. The stars overhead appeared to grow in size, the trees struck her as being alive with a brooding and ancient presence, and the night air became a fluid medium that parted before them. Thranduil's rich baritone joined Thanadir's deep tenor, and Lorna looked up to see that the elves' skin really did faintly glow with an ethereal sheen; she'd poked fun at the idea, but she couldn't now. She hadn't seen the inside of a church much in her life, but they looked a bit like what she'd always been told angels would. They were _real_ , though, something that stood before her, doing she didn't know what. Even had she been more eloquent, she still might not have words for it. Earlene had no idea how long they walked but she wished it would have lasted longer. Something about this short passage with the elves pulled her heart to them in a way that she could not explain. No wonder she felt confused half the time; the draw of these beings who had claimed her for their own was irresistibly strong...at least to her. The only thing she could say with assuredness is that she had not wanted this transit of the forest to end.

It was late, and they went their separate ways to their rooms. Earlene shot Lorna a very meaningful wink and a nod. Operation Monty, all week in the planning, was underway.

It was all Lorna could do not to laugh; she might have, if not for the lingering effect of whatever the hell the elves had done. She'd know they had magic, she'd seen it, but that - that had been new. It made her kick her boots off, lay on her bed, and stare at the canopy, enjoying the criminally soft mattress. What else could they do, the elves?

It was a thought she'd entertain later. She'd kissed Ratiri - on the cheek, but still. She'd done it. The thought made her smile sleepily, curling up atop the beautiful covers. Hopefully Earlene would keep Thranduil busy for a while, much as the thought squicked her; she needed a nap.

Earlene had spent a few days pondering and planning for this night. He had always taken the lead in their intimate life, being the experienced one. But being the dedicated learner that she was, her laptop accompanied her outside the forest one afternoon when the ellyn had been gone. Her wifi signal still made it over there, and she had more than an hour to read and digest every technique for pleasuring a male known to science. Or rather, known to American magazines that focused on this sort of thing. And as it was all far more than she'd ever known about, she at least had a laundry list of possibilities to try. Not to mention, there was the chocolate syrup, which could actually play into some of what she'd read (though, every article indicated it was an "apply and lick off" kind of routine; elven healing or not, she was not about to invite a yeast infection, thank you very much). Personally she thought it was silly since his body tasted far better on its own, but, whatever. Ever since he'd passed within range of Siobhan's brainwaves in Baile, he'd been fascinated by the idea, and it wasn't as though she disliked chocolate.

What had been hardest of all was keeping her mind in such a state as to obfuscate her intentions; it was terribly challenging to surprise someone who already knew everything one thought. But, she'd tried. So when they arrived in their blessedly warm rooms (who dealt with this fireplace, and how did they know when to light it?), the first thing she did was wordlessly spread one of the very large bath towels on top of the bed. There had been enough time to order some supplies, too. Silicone lubricant (which felt amazing when she'd placed a few drops on herself by way of a test drive) and massage oil; simple yet high-quality products that seemed to command wide-ranging enthusiasm. He was a sensual person, and she hoped she could give him a sensual evening.

The first time around, she went straight for the syrup, guessing that he'd lived in anticipation of this for awhile. And she decided to try to combine it with a massage and something that the articles insisted would "drive him wild". Apparently there was a gland inside of him capable of generating a great deal of pleasure, and there were two ways to get at it. One, she knew she was not yet ready for; that involved delving into an orifice that she honestly was not sure he would be comfortable with even if she could be. So, scrap that. But apparently if she could successfully press into and massage the area behind his family jewels, much the same thing would be accomplished; that was something she was willing to try.

When she insisted he lie down on the towel after she had slowly and teasingly divested him of his clothing, he did not seem inclined to protest. First were kisses, and then an oh-so-brief test drive of all these allegedly erogenous areas. Lower lip (meh), over the thyroid gland (he loved it), nipples (happy, but how happy?-who knew), and by then she was already on her way to the southern hemisphere.

She made her best visual show of applying the syrup to him in decorative patterns before using only her left hand (because something had to stay clean) to stroke him several times with it, while somehow managing to leave most of it on him. She'd made the syrup from high quality dark chocolate, rich in flavor but not so sweet, and traced some along his lip. When he enthusiastically grabbed her hand and began licking it clean, she felt that was a win-win; now she did not have to bother with it and could attend to the rest of him (Plus, now she knew he liked dark chocolate). Gently and erotically, she did not stop until every bit of it was gone, and then she kept on. Pouring quite a generous amount of the massage oil into her hand, and holding onto it until she reasoned it was warm enough, she drizzled it languidly below his manhood. His thighs, his twins; a leg was lifted just so she could get to his incredibly firm and shapely rear. And while her mouth was busy with his manhood, her right hand roamed just about everywhere south of it. Caressing, teasing, testing. Trying to not be obvious, she finally swept her thumb a little more firmly over this alleged spot of wonder, and elicited enough of a moan from him that she decided the article might have been right.

Oh, how she delayed him! Nothing was done quickly, even though his rising heat was obvious. As the minutes passed, she returned to that little gland more often. Sometimes she used her knuckle and sometimes her thumb; but it was always slow, always careful. Eventually he was glassy eyed, writhing beneath her. She'd not imagined she could...control him, like this. It was incredibly erotic for her, to watch his response; and then she went to work in earnest. Her thumb no longer left its commanding position on the slickly oiled skin, as she forced him to rock between that sweet pressure that jolted him with pleasure and her warm, soft mouth that claimed his manhood. His hands grabbed at the bed coverings as he moaned for relief until finally, his body could take no more and tumbled over the edge. If how loudly he yelled her name as his seed burst into her mouth was any indication, she'd succeeded wildly. While he rested, she turned him onto his belly and massaged him, spending a great deal of the time between his waist and his knees. It was a foregone conclusion that he would know she was unsatisfied and eventually do something about it. During their second encounter she relinquished all control to him, taking the opportunity to do a longer test drive on some of those other magazine recommendations. The towel was tossed aside in favor of going under the warm covers; she did everything she knew how to heighten his enjoyment as he strained within her to reach another climax. She really had intended to offer him yet more, but he fell asleep shortly after he left her very satisfied body. His face looked like Eros himself must have been imagined as he slept, lips slightly parted. "Happy aur en onnad, my love," she whispered, while she watched.

Earlene waited and waited, on some level not believing she was about to engage in this completely teenage stunt. And yet the minor thrill (not to mention the sheer ridiculousness) of the idea, coupled with the belief that she was not really doing anything wrong, drove her on. When minutes had passed of his steady and deep breathing and he did not move, she became fully convinced he was asleep. Dressing in a warm woolen tunic and leggings, she added her cloak and found leather slippers that should allow for walking silently. She might not be a ballet dancer, but she was no klutz either. On her way out, she gathered some apples and some dried fruits that she found into a cloth; it might be a good idea to have some kind of food for this escapade.

Raising her hood so that if she was casually seen it would not be totally obvious that one of the humans was loose, she padded noiselessly to Lorna's rooms. As agreed on, she entered and deposited the fruit on the little table. Earlene spoke her name until she woke. "Lorna!" Though with anyone else she would gently shake the person, she valued her skeleton. She really did feel a little sorry for her friend. While she herself did not exactly like to hug random strangers, Lorna obviously dreaded most human contact to a very strong degree. But, that was a personal thing, and not her business. "Lorna!" she hissed a little louder.

Lorna jerked awake, flailing a little. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but her head had cleared, for the most part. "We good to go?" she asked, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed and hopping off. Her boots would be no good at all for this, but she had elf-shoes, and God know what else - she was pretty sure that every time Thanadir found something that fit, he stuffed it into her closet. Fortunately, some of it was practical, not dresses - tunics, and something that seemed somewhere between tunic and dress, a dark green wool-type fabric. It was this that she snagged, pulling off her current, modern tunic (she had a vest-top underneath, so she wasn't exactly concerned) and pulled on the other one. Why? She had some hazy idea of camouflage. Maybe she was still a bit drunker than she thought.

"You've got your phone and it has a flashlight app?" Earlene double checked and saw her nod."You might want to get a cloak, if there's one in there...it's cold down there even midday. And...Lorna, you realize we are going through the dungeons to get there? I think they are actually kind of nice, I go there to be alone with my thoughts sometimes...but I know how you might feel about…cells, and stuff…" she asked hesitantly, wondering why in hell she couldn't have managed to think about this sooner than right now. She could go on her own, if need be.

Lorna twitched. The thought was not a pleasant one - at all - but in pursuit of that heavenly wine, she could suck it up and deal with it. "I'm good," she said, tapping her phone's flashlight on and pulling on her cloak. How in God's name could anyone think cells were nice? But then, Earlene had never been stuck in one. "It's all for a good cause."

"OK. But if you get too, I don't know, creeped out, just tell me. I could go in alone if need be, it's just more fun to cause trouble in pairs." Leading the way, they crossed through the deserted throne area, and along the elevated paths toward the Gates. What Earlene didn't know were the other means by which to reach her destination, so she had to rely on the ways she already could navigate. Turning at the Gates, they took the next path, downward. As always, an orange-y glow lightly faintly illuminated everything (very handy, that!) and they trailed down until they reached the first of the cells. They all looked a bit alike to her, though she'd not test driven any but her favorite one. She was not sure what it said about her, that she found some weird solace in this place. Maybe it was just the idea that no one else had any reason or motivation to come here. Zero. Zilch. And her time here just hadn't bothered her, both voluntary and involuntary. In fact her last interlude had left a rather favorable final impression...shaking off these silly thoughts, she remonstrated with herself: _Focus_.

Lorna, for her part, was having a harder time than she'd anticipated. No, the decor was nothing like the prison she'd been in - this was much prettier - but cells were cells, and bars were bars, and she shuddered, unable to help it. Yes, she'd got out of prison nearly fifteen years ago, but she still dreamt of it sometimes, and now there were doors, and bars, and locks, and she needed to be out of here in a hurry.

Turning off at the point Earlene believed Thranduil had been describing, she found another door a short way down another passage, and tested it. There was no lock. Pulling it open, she peeked in. "Sweet Baby Jesus," she uttered. It was very dim; they would need at least a little more light, but there were stores of wine here beyond anything she could have imagined. _A frippin' winery might not have this much_ , she guessed.

Lorna's eyebrows rose. "Okay, I know thousands'v people used to live here, but this still seems a bit...excessive." Not that she was going to complain, but _still_. She wondered if it would be possible to steal a whole barrel and hide it in her spare room at her cottage. Elves must have livers even more robust than that of Irish people (and no elf was going to understand how impressive a thing that actually was). "How do we want to do this?"

That was a very good question, concluded Earlene. Clearly, the barrels were to be ignored. But that still left what appeared to be racks of thousands of bottles. "Well, the one thing I can guess at is that we don't want to choose a bottle like what we had at that last dinner. We know that's 'normal' wine. He said he only had a little of it by comparison, so the odds of getting the right stuff are in our favor. And I remember the shape of the bottle of what he gave us first, though I never got a look at the label. And shite, here I thought it would just be a few hundred bottles. This….this is….yeah. But we can try, and hope we find what we want. I mean, it tasted like blackberry syrup to me, not wine. So we're looking for...that first bottle. And I've no idea if it helps but the cap...wasn't there white wax and then red wax over it? They can't all look like that, either. We'll have to work together because we only have one light."

"Here, you're taller," Lorna said, holding out the phone. "I'm not much use if I can't lift it high enough." _Why the hell did the bottles have to look so similar?_ She didn't yet see any caps that fit that description.

Earlene streamed down the rows at a fairly good clip, feeling fairly determined. Though even she was despairing, a little. And then on the third long row…"These," she said. "I'm almost positive. And look, here's an area where some are missing, like they've been taken more recently...whenever that was. "Can't this place have some dust, for god's sake? A zillion years ago and it looks like the housekeepers were just in here. Here, hold the light for me please?" She handed the phone back to Lorna and carefully lifted the bottle. "N.A... I don't know shit about their history, but unless I'm way off, this means "Third age, 2510" which means zero to me. What do you think, do we place our hopes in this one?"

"Might as well," Lorna said, eying the bottle. "Except I think we ought to get a second one, different...vintage? Just in case this turns out to be the human wine." The bottles were about the same size as ordinary human bottles; hauling a few wouldn't be hard.

"Agreed, no point coming down here twice. So...I'll just go pick anything at random from the central collection, I guess. As long as the label says something else, it stands to reason that it's elven wine." She walked along. "Here, this says 'Dorwinion', whatever that is. And that's different, so, it comes with us."

They both laughed more than was probably good for them, and carefully held their cargo in their arms, hidden under their cloaks. Earlene closed the door to leave everything as it was, and they slunk along until they returned to Lorna's room. "Victory!" Earlene laughed after the door was closed, offering a fist bump before she realized she didn't know if that was even a thing here in Ireland. But as Lorna returned it, it obviously was.

Water and drinking glasses were in the rooms, and more water was to be had from the area for personal necessities. Lorna had brought the shot glasses Earlene had provided earlier, wrapped up so as not to clunk around in her bag. "So, do we see if we succeeded?" she quipped.

"Let's do it," Lorna said, producing the glasses. "Christ, I feel like I'm fifteen."

Earlene laughed. "Well, we're acting about like it, so that fits. Pinching wine from the elves' cellars. Who in hell can even make that up? This has to be a mortal first," she joked as she dug at the wax seal with her fingernail. It came off without a great deal of fuss, and she found herself wondering. "I wonder if it's supposed to breathe for a bit, usually wine does," she said, taking an investigatory sniff. "Sure god I think we've hit the jackpot. It smells just like the other stuff," she said, holding the bottle for Lorna to take a whiff of her own.

Lorna took a deep sniff, and nearly sighed with happiness. Elf wine wasn't just the best wine she'd ever tasted, or the best alcohol - it was the best liquid, period. She wondered if there was any possible way to duplicate the taste without the potential lethal side effect of drinking more than three sips. "So, okay, when I was fourteen, I lived in a big warehouse in South Dublin," she said, kicking off her shoes. "It was a damn hot summer evening, we were bored, and for some bloody reason I don't remember, I decided stealing a city bus would be a great idea. I was high as balls at the time, so I'm sure that had something to do with it.

"We waited until night, and Shane - our gem dealer - took the lot'v us to the bus yard, because he knew there was no stopping me, and we were all bored by then. He'd taught me how to hot-wire not that long before, so I was shite at it; he had to finish it up for me, and then we just ran down the gate and out through Dublin, blasting Whitesnake on the radio and weaving all over hell and back. I could barely reach the pedals, I could barely see over the steering wheel, and eventually I crashed through a barricade and completely wrecked the thing. We all had to walk home...Christ, a good ten miles? Something like that. But it was fun. Ask Mick about it sometime - though I don't know that he enjoyed it that much."

"Oh, my," Earlene said. "And to think that the worst thing I ever did was stay out five minutes past curfew once, and I caught hell even for that. There are times I feel like I haven't lived," she said with a sigh. "Then again...a bus?" Snickering noises came from her as she carefully poured the wine into the two glasses before replacing the stopper. The bottles were carefully put on a shelf next to empty vases, out of harm's way. "It's a damn waste that that happened before YouTube, you know that, don't you? Think've the hits you would have gotten. I have to admit I really would have liked to see that, on some level. Though, preferably not from inside the bus. No wonder Mick teases you." Lorna was carefully handed her little glass. "I'd say bottoms up, but as I intend to consume this by the drop, I can't. Oh, and we should probably pour water before we're laughing our arses off and lose all coordination."

"I don't know how I survived some'v the shite I did, outside'v blind luck," Lorna said. "God, if there had been YouTube...it would've been golden. Oh!" She set aside her shot glass, flailing a bit as she hopped off the bed. "I got something while I was out today. Two somethings, actually." Fishing through the bag, she found a plastic grocery sack, from which she produced two coconuts, a large cleaver, and a small, wickedly hooked knife. "Thank God there's nobody about much to hear us." Theoretically, she knew how to do this. She'd seen Siobhan do it once, so surely that counted as knowledge, right?

"Ha ha!" erupted Earlene, with no regard to the hour. Truthfully, she assumed these stone walls could kill just about any sound. "I'm going to borrow your smaller knife; I'll slice those apples _before_ the wine, that will reduce any possibility of us ending up like the Black Knight!"

"Good idea," Lorna said, sniffing the coconuts. Fresh coconut smelled rather different than the dried or fake stuff. "All right, I've got to get these a bit wet first. Be right back." She left the cleaver on the end-table, not pausing to realize that it was kind of a monstrosity that looked like it ought to be used in a zombie apocalypse.

Earlene bit her lip, not wishing to say the wrong thing but hoping like hell that Lorna knew how to actually open a coconut, and that the lovely elven table wasn't about to be sacrificed to the gods. _Then again, she did have the right equipment...what in hell would they have here to catch the water?_ Looking around the room, she saw a decorative bowl fairly high up on one of the shelves and found she could just reach it. "Coconut water holder, coming up!"

To her delight (and no small amount of relief), Lorna cracked the cleaver over the fruit with expert aim while Earlene held the bowl underneath. Give or take one mild spray up both their shirts, which was truly minor damage given the task at hand, they caught all the water, and decided to be fancy pants and pour it all into the half-filled water carafe already in the room. Lorna held her hand out for the curved knife and began raking some of the fresh coconut out of the shells. Between the two of them a pile of apples and coconut ended up mounded in the bowl between them on the bed, more or less in front of Lorna's laptop, and what were probably expensive crystal goblets of coconut flavored water joined the shot glasses of wine on the side tables. The cleaver and knife were left elsewhere.

"This is going to be one for the storybooks," Earlene laughed, still wondering where in hell Lorna learned to open coconuts that well, but not wanting to insult her by asking.

"If anyone asks, we'll say they migrated," Lorna said, looking fondly at the coconut halves. "I watched Siobhan do that once when I was at the bakery. Stole Mick's cleaver; I'll give it back tomorrow. I'm sure he'll live without it, because I don't know that he's ever used it. Bastard's almost as sharp as an elf sword." She set up the laptop, rolling the movie.

It had been years, too many years, since Earlene had treated herself to this particular brand of silliness. But she was sure she remembered a lot of the dialogue. Deciding it was time, she dipped her finger into the elven wine, one dip at a time. Dip, suck finger. Dip, suck finger…. "How quick did it hit you, when you tried it the first time?" she asked her friend. Dip, suck. Dip, suck. She was determined to become as inebriated on this stuff as possible without completely going blotto. And fortunately, the elixir had such a short time from consumption to effect, that shouldn't be hard to achieve. In less than ten minutes, she was feeling as happy as she'd felt last time, if not more so. Just enough coordination was remaining for her to set the shot glass of remaining ruby-colored ambrosia on the table, safe from any mayhem.

Lorna laughed, joining her. "About thirty seconds," she said, savoring the sweetness of the wine. "Which made me feel like a damn lightweight, but whatever. I don't want to give a laundry list'v all the drugs I've ever taken, but this feels like a few'v them, only better." At the second failure of the credits, she cackled. "Ralph the Wonder Llama. How the hell did they come up with this?"

"What I wonder is how this all got past the people who controlled the purse strings, back then. This film is pure crack, which is why it's so brilliant" she said, already feeling the wine freeing her emotions...but without such an instantaneous blast as last time. Dip, suck. Dip, suck. Whatever this wine was, she didn't want to ever leave it be; she hoped Thranduil could understand that. Nothing in her life had ever made her laugh this easily, or just think everything was so. goddamn. funny. She didn't want to wreck herself on it, but she very much wanted to be able to laugh like this now and again. _Oh god here come the coconuts_...and it was hilarious. Lorna was next to her, imitating the same noise with her shells, both of them giggling for all they were worth.

Lorna was laughing so hard it was all she could do to hit her coconut halves together, already so at one with the world it was almost obscene. "I learned," she said, when she managed to stop laughing enough, "I learned more about swallows watching this bloody movie than I ever thought I'd want to know." She waved the coconut half in her right hand. "They've migrated! They did! You know, I read they used coconuts because they couldn't afford horses, so they just went with it?" Dipping her pinky in her glass, she gave it another lick. It really was like liquid sunshine, more potent - and more effective - than anything she'd had in years. The sad side effect of Lorna's lifetime of illicit substances was that very little had much of an effect on her now, but hoo boy.

At the scene shift, both women immediately yelled, "BRING OUT YER DEAD!" so loud they could have _woken_ the dead, had there been any around to hear them. Lorna followed it, shortly thereafter, with, "I don't want to go on the cart!"

Earlene, all but breathless: "I'm getting better!"

"No you're not," Lorna returned, in a truly abysmal English accent. "You'll be stone dead in a moment." Another dip of her finger, another drop. God, when had she last laughed this hard?

Earlene shrieked with delighted laughter when she discovered that not only could Lorna do the coconuts, she could also do a more than fair imitations of the trumpets in the soundtrack music. "Oh my, I completely forgot these scene with the King! 'Ow'd you get that, then? By exploiting the workers. King of the 'oo?" Lorna looked over, hardly believing that Earlene was capable of making that much noise. She was laughing so hard she was crying. " 'I din't know we 'ad a King, I thought we were an autonomous collective….You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just because some wat'ry tart threw a sword at you'...Oh god, that is so funny…"

"Your accent is fantastic," Lorna giggled. "You actually sound English." She cackled. "You can't expect to wield supreme executive power -" she stumbled on the word a bit, adding a few too many syllables "-just because some watery tart threw a sword at you. If I-" she dissolved into laughter, "If I went 'round saying I was an emperor because some moistened bint lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!" She gave up at that point, laughing so hard her lungs ached.

She came out of it, however, in time to yell with Earlene, "HELP! HELP! I'M BEING REPRESSED!" before actually falling off the bed. "Son'v a bitch."

Several things happened all at once. Earlene howled with laughter as Lorna tumbled off the bed, and instinctively she reached over to pause the laptop. Given how loudly Lorna was laughing herself, she was far more worried that Lorna would die of oxygen deprivation than anything having to do with landing on the floor. And that was when the door to the room burst open. It was very dim in the room, meaning that she was not completely certain who it was. How she had the presence of mind to ask in Sindarin, she would never know, given that she barely had a mind just now, but she stopped laughing to ask between giggles, "Man te?" (Who is it?).

The figure stepped into the room, and as it came closer, spoke. "It is Thanadir. Is everything….well?" The elf saw the cleaver on the table and felt rather alarmed.

Giggles continued to emit from the floor beside the bed but Earlene ignored them. "It is very well, Thanadir. We are watching a funny movie. I do not know if you would care for it, but you are welcome to join us if you wish." An involuntary burst of giggles accompanied this announcement to the seneschal, and she desperately feared that they were, as they would say in the vernacular, _busted_. But he said nothing, and instead regarded her.

"This movie is not like...the other?" He asked delicately, not sure how to word it.

More laughter from the side of the bed, and it took all of Earlene's effort to not do the same. "No, Your Excellency, this is very different. It is a very silly movie, what we call a parody. It makes fun of an English legend known as King Arthur and the Holy Grail. You will have to forgive us, though, we will laugh a great deal." He seemed to hesitate, but then to her complete astonishment, agreed. Taking a moment to ponder their setup on the bed, and reasoning that he was used to being an elven pillow anyway, she traded positions with him, took a huge gulp of coconut water (narrowly avoiding spraying all of it all out of her nose while thinking of the word 'coconut'), and settled herself against his chest.

Lorna had finally regained her place on the bed, and was doing battle with her hair to get it all out of her eyes. "I think we should just start over, Lorna, we're only ten minutes in. And we'd probably better do subtitles too. Oh, and show Thanadir your coconuts." Earlene stopped, vaguely horrified at what she'd just said, and both women blurted out in what could only be described as laugh-talk "That's what she said" at the same time. _If the elf is still speaking to me by morning, it'll be a miracle,_ she thought. "Let's try that again. Thanadir does not know what a coconut is, unless I am much mistaken. Do you?" she angled her head back at the baffled elf.

"No."

Lorna held up the two half empty shells. Earlene continued, "it is a fruit that grows in places where it is very warm all of the time. The white part is what is eaten. Here, try some." Holding up the plate, she pointed to the white meaty pieces.

Seeing at least one thing that made rational sense, he bit into it and seemed pleased. "It is very tough, but sweet."

"Help yourself to the fruit," she offered. "OK Lorna, roll it."

That this was the second time through did nothing to stop the giggles, and Earlene wondered if Thanadir could understand a word of it. But he actually laughed at "I'm being repressed!" and she had to conclude that he must be getting _something_ out of it.

Unfortunately for Thanadir, Lorna was a rather clingy drunk. Maybe it her brain making up for the fact that she was normally so touch-averse, but he wound up with her plastered against his side like a cat, hair threatening to choke him. "The Black Knight!" she cackled. "'Tis but a scratch!" she managed, more or less at the appropriate time, and somewhere in there she got, "Look, you stupid bastard, you've got no arms left!"

Earlene thought she might completely lose it when she heard "Good counterattack" from the elf behind her. If he was appalled at the fake spurting blood, he did not show it. And then he started to laugh at the armless, one-legged Black Knight who still tried to fight.

Lorna made no comment on the flagellants. As the only theoretical Catholic, she probably ought to, but she wasn't too sure on the explanation herself - and honestly, not saying anything was funnier. Poor Thanadir. "We've found a witch!" she crowed. "May we burn her? But how do you know she is a witch? She looks like one!"

Earlene half wanted to invite the seneschal to read her thoughts so he could better understand this travesty of Medieval civilization, but then he'd also know she'd been into their wine, so that was a no-go. Besides, when _Spamalot!_ started, she had to make some effort, while laughing herself, to direct Lorna's legs away from her laptop, as she was trying to imitate the dance steps and threatening to kick the screen. But soon after, they reached what she would call a calmer segment of the film, which let Lorna settle herself again. Only to be undone by…the Frenchmen.

Lorna cackled. "You don't frighten us, English-pig dogs!" she cried, in a French accent even worse than her attempted English. "Go away and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! I blow my nose at you, you so-called Arthur -" except, when she tried to say _Arthur_ in that abysmal accent, it came out more like _Asser_ "-King. You and all your silly English kinigguts." She had no idea what the hell that word was supposed to be, but it sounded hilarious.

Both she and Earlene no doubt scandalized Thanadir thoroughly when they mimicked the French knight, tapping their hands on their heads and blowing raspberries at the screen. Thanadir was never going to have any respect for either of them ever again, but just now Lorna couldn't care.

They stumbled a bit on what he said next, but each managed, more or less, "I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!"

"So, okay, okay," Lorna said, trying to subsume her laughter, "apparently that's actually a legit insult. 'Your mother was a hamster' means she was a slut and had a bunch'v children, and 'your father smelt of elderberries' means he was a drunk." She had learned that from Mairead, of all people, the first time she'd seen this movie not long after moving into her sister's house.

"I absolutely did not know that", said Earlene, suitably impressed. "Elderberries?" If she was sober enough tomorrow _and_ able to remember this conversation, she'd have to look that one up.

Even drunk as Lorna was, she managed to sing along with Sir Robin's minstrels remarkably on-key, but when she reached, "His head smashed in and his heart cut out, and his liver removed and his bowels unplugged, and his nostrils raped and his bottom burned off, and his peni-" she felt Thanadir twitch, ever so minutely, and when she looked at his face, she laughed so hard she nearly cried. He was difficult to read, but there was something approaching horror in the depths of his eyes. To be fair, the idea of nostril-rape _was_ pretty horrifying.

Earlene did not let the singalong go unattended, either. Lurching over across Thanadir, she made a grab for the coconuts, then became reduced to laughter once again when the thought of grabbing Lorna's coconuts flitted through her mind. She spent a good minute alternating between singing the song along with Lorna while clipping the shells together for sound effect and laughing helplessly into Thanadir's knees before she finally made it back upright. Part of her wondered how she could ever face the seneschal after this, but she was seemingly incapable of bringing herself to care.

"Castle Anthrax," Lorna snickered, popping some coconut meat into her mouth. "Not a very good name, is it?" She was content to watch poor Sir Galahad with little comment, mainly because she couldn't have hoped to mimic any of the women's higher voices without sound like a boy who'd been castrated.

Earlene wished to let Castle Anthrax alone just based on not wanting to further expose Thanadir to the concept of harems, possibly one of the few things not covered in Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but none of that stopped both women from yelling "Shit!" at just the right time in the dialogue when the knights escaped.

The lovely misty forest had always creeped Lorna out a bit, and yet she wanted to go hiking in it anyway. "Ni!" she said, sounding rather like a demented guinea pig as she did so.

"Ni!" said Earlene. "We are the keepers of the sacred woooord. Ni!"Ni! Ni! We will retuuuuuuuurn, with a shrubbery!"

"I wonder why shrubberies? Not that there's much point in asking, mind, but still. Why a shrubbery?"

"Really," agreed Earlene. I mean, why not a _topiary_? If you're going to put something completely nanners into the plot line, why not go all the way? Why stop at suburban landscaping plants when you can go for formal garden hijacking? Even she wasn't sure what in hell she was talking about, but at the moment it sounded profound. She still felt all might not be totally lost, when Thanadir laughed at the cartoon-y clouds jumping up and down, and the man arguing with the sun to set. The sun with legs sticking out of it.

"The Tale of Sir Lancelot," Lorna intoned, then dropped her voice. "One day, lad, all this will be yours!" Then, higher, "What, the curtains?" God, had castles really had no shutters in the windows? How had they not all frozen to death?

"But I don't want any of that," Earlene said with a dead-on nasally imitation that impressed the hell out of Lorna. "I'd rather just...sing...but I don't want that!But I don' like her!"

Lorna caught on, quickly. "Don't like her? What's wrong with her? She's beautiful." Both of them were trying to out-yell the other.

"She's rich!"

"She's got huge….tracts of land!" That scene got no further, and they were both once again laughing so hard they were crying. When she had slightly recovered, Earlene blurted out, "Thranduil is a wonderful King. He loves his tracts of land!"

"Oh my _God_." Lorna flailed, nearly falling off the bed. "Earlene, allanah, I like you both immensely, but there are some things I just do _not_ need to know." A glance at Thanadir told her it had gone right over his head, thank God.

Earlene thought that comment was slightly unfair, as she _did_ have to hear once about Liam's arse, but it was hardly worth causing a scene over. That and, respect for the deceased. Or something like that.

"Message for you, sir," Lorna deadpanned, as poor, sweet Concorde fell over with an arrow to the chest. "You know, I always wondered how he got better," she said. "I mean, I know people can live with bullets and things inside'v them for years, but still."

"I think they just liked the line 'I'm getting better.' Which you have to admit was a good one", Earlene opined.

Watching Lancelot cut his unfortunate swath of destruction through all the wedding guests, Lorna shook her head. "He really is a bit stab-happy, isn't he?" she observed. "I had more restraint when I was seventeen than he's got, and that's the age I was when I all but bit someone's nose off. Never been able to eat fried chicken since - cartilage, you know," she added, as if that actually made sense. "It crunches."

This was too much. "Lorna, 'tracts of land' just cannot be worse than that. They can't be. Ok we're even, now we each can't un-hear something." And even that was terribly funny, because, more laughing.

"Ni! Ni! Are you saying Ni! To that old woman?" Lorna saw that Earlene clearly had a slight fixation on the Ni! thing,

"You know," Lorna said, "Roger the Shrubber sounds a bit dirty. It just...does. But that's a nice little shrubbery they've got, at least." She never had been able to work out why the Knights Who Say Ni were meant to be so terrifying within the movie's universe, but figured it was best not to question. As far as the Pythons were concerned, logic was on permanent holiday, and she loved it.

"This whole thing with the shrubbery was just one big bait and switch, and what even are those things on their helmets?" Earlene broke in.

Lorna resumed, ignoring her. "And what _is_ it with the British and herring? I mean, I get that it's an inherently funny word and all, but...y'know." Even she didn't know, so she doubted either of them did, but she'd had a thought and now she'd lost it. "Also, I would like to point out that the Knights themselves said the word 'it' a few times, so I think they're just gigantic trolls with nothing better to do.

To both their surprise, Thanadir laughed out loud at the part when Sir Robin's minstrel was eaten, and there was much rejoicing. He laughed at the damnedest things, but that an elf understood any of this humor was actually kind of impressive.

"In the frozen land of Nador, they were forced to eat Sir Robin's minstrels," Lorna said, attempting to sound profound. It failed when she added "Yaaaaaay" in a rather flat sort of tone, which set her off laughing so hard she inhaled a strand of her hair. She hacked and coughed as she pulled the mess out of her face, wheezing until she sat up and snagged a few apple slices. "Mmmm," she said. "Cannibalism."

Earlene rolled her eyes. In her private opinion, hair should only be so long.

When the scene approached Tim the Enchanter, Lorna got her coconut halves again, clopping a bit harder than was strictly necessary. "Okay, right, another fun fact - when Tim the Enchanter says 'There are some who call me...Tim?' he sounds like he's hesitating because John Cleese couldn't remember the line. They kept it in because it was funny." She flailed an imaginary staff, making explosion noises, nearly whacking Thanadir with her elbow as she did. "Grrrrrail," she said, rolling her r's perfectly - Tatiana had spent days teaching her how to do that.

"That is our quest," Earlene dropped in at just the right time.

Earlene had moved way past the Hand Grenade. "...guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel, that no man yet has fought with it and lived!" Her sides were now painfully aching from laughing too hard but she still could not stop.

"Behind the rabbit?" Lorna said. "No, it is the rabbit." She would have kept on, but Earlene's laughter was contagious, and she had to wipe tears from her eyes while she tried to catch her breath.

"Yewwwww silly sot! You had us all worked up!" countered Earlene. This scene was going to be trouble, because clearly both women knew far too many of the lines. "Wha's 'ee do, nibble yer bum?"

Thanadir had shifted forward, clearly becoming more interested in this scene once the knight drew his sword and went forth to meet the rabbit in mortal combat. He was already laughing...and then the unbelievable happened, he didn't _stop_ laughing. "The little rabbit!" The old elf laughed harder as he pointed at the now blood-soaked bunny. Lorna and Earlene both looked at him, to see a tear rolling down his cheek, which just made the whole thing funnier.

This did not help Earlene at all, as the Holy Hand Grenade was imminent. _I'm in a bed with an eighteen thousand year elf and a cussing Irishwoman, laughing hysterically at an attack rabbit, blasted on elven wine. What the fuck happened to my life?_ She did not particularly want an answer.

"The Holy Hand Grenade!" Lorna cried, clapping her coconuts after she stole them back from Earlene. " 'Oh Lord, bless this, thou hand grenade, that with it, thou mayest blow thine enemies to bits, in thy mercy.' I want a Holy Hand Grenade. I wouldn't even do anything with it - I'd just like to be able to say I _had_ it." Because honestly, who wouldn't want one, if given the chance? Who would turn down a Holy Hand Grenade?"

"Lorna, you have to be kidding me. If you had a Holy Hand Grenade the first driver to piss you off on the highway would be driving him or herself into the crater you put into the middle of the asphalt," Earlene asserted, not buying it for a minute. Thanadir, apparently having paid better attention to Lorna's driving than she'd realized, nodded gleefully.

"I really wish I could dispute that," Lorna said, sounding momentarily something approximating sober, "but I really can't. Though I'd hope I'd save something brilliant as a Holy Hand Grenade for someone especially obnoxious, like anyone driving a Prius. Because whoever it would be, they would, being naughty in my sight, snuff it." Her last words were another attempt at the rather odd tone and accent of Brother Whoever-he-was.

Their banter ran on through the monster that vanished with the animator's heart attack, and left them at the Bridge of Death, where they could all agree that the need to repeat the lines outweighed other concerns.

"What…..is yer name?" they croaked in stereo. "What…..is yer quest"..."What...is yer favorite color?"

"That's easy!"

Their downfall was the capital of Assyria, and poor Thanadir had to lean forward past their laughing to hear the answer, since anything called Assyria had bypassed his attempts to learn about modern countries. That the answer was not given upset him. "What _is_ the capital of Assyria?" He demanded. " _Where_ is Assyria?"

Both women looked at him blankly but thanks to too many hours The Met, Earlene actually had this. "It's Nineveh, Thanadir, but Assyria doesn't exist anymore. It used to be where Iraq is now. At least, I'm pretty sure…"

"Fun fact," Lorna said, "and I only know this because Mairead and I looked it up once when we watched this movie, but Assyria had two capitals. I don't remember why, but that's what Wikipedia said." While Wikipedia was hardly a reliable source of information, it was probably right about that.

"Damn. Makes me want to take back last year's donation to the Museum. False advertising, or something," Earlene grumbled. Make that _two_ things to look up, if she could remember this conversation...and she'd already forgotten the first one. _Shit._ "I totally forgot there is an Intermission with ten minutes to go in the movie…and, I want that dragon boat."

"God, me too," Lorna said. "Forget the Grail - I want the boat and the Holy Hand Grenade." She paused. "I bet Shane'd shit himself if I gave him something like the Grail to fence." She'd rather not give him a stroke, but at the same time... "But seriously, how did the French get there first? I know we're not meant to wonder, but I can't help it."

"Ha ha! 'A nasty taunting…' I think I would have traded law school to be the scriptwriter for this film," she said wistfully.

"Those are terrible helmets," Thanadir said. And then the police car pulled up with the bobbies that arrested the cast.

"I've never quite embraced the end of this film" said Earlene. "It always left me feeling a little hollow, and the music annoys the hell out of me." With a big sigh, she stretched against Thanadir, deciding it might be nice to set him free from being used as a couch pillow. Turning around, she faced the elf. "I would guess that this was quite possibly one of the strangest experiences of your life, Thanadir," she said. "Even some humans do not enjoy this kind of humor."

"It is among them, yes," he said. But at least he was smiling when he said it. "It is late, I should rest. So should you", he said pointedly. "Thank you for inviting me to watch...that," he said, as he took his leave.

Lorna looked at Earlene. "Either we've educated him, scarred him, or both," she said, waiting; she didn't want to bring up wine if he was anywhere near enough their door to hear it.

"I'm going with both. Not sure how I'm ever going to look at him after the display I've put on tonight, but, I guess they should learn that we like to be like this sometimes, and it's no harm done." She reached for the wine again. Throwing caution to the wind, she tipped what was left in her glass down her throat. Just once, she wanted to feel like she'd had a real mouthful of this absolute ambrosia. "Want any more?" she asked Lorna. "I figure I've got forty-five seconds before that hits me. Got another movie?"

"Gimme," Lorna said, making grabby-hands. "I've got so many other movies."

Earlene swiped both their shot glasses and made haste toward the wine bottle, refilling the small glasses carefully before it could all go to hell. She was willing to explain a lot of things about tonight after the fact, but wine all over the elves' carpet was not among them. Looking at what still seemed like the pitiful amount she'd allotted to them, she looked back at the water glasses. "Eh! Hurry and take a good swig of your water, I've got an idea. There needs to be some room in the glass, though, and we ought to keep up with drinking something besides this. I'll add the wine to the water; what the hell, it might slow it down a little."

Before a minute was out the main bottle of wine was safely back on the shelf, and two different variations on trouble were available on each end table.

"As long as we keep pacing ourselves with water, it ought to stave off any morning-afters," Lorna said, sipping. There hadn't been one after their last attempt at this stuff, but they also hadn't had so much. "And how d'you feel about The Breakfast Club? That was my second exposure to American cinema. The first was Day of the Dead." She hadn't seen Breakfast Club until sometime in the 90's, but the contrast between it and Day of the Dead...well, she'd wondered quite a bit about America.

"I looooove that movie," said Earlene, giggling once again even though nothing about the question was funny; she was succumbing again to the wine. "Is it just me, or does it start to wear off right about at an hour and a half or two hours?"

"I think you're about right," Lorna said, taking another sip. "Which is a lot longer than most things last for me, but still." She hunted through her folder until she found the movie in question. "I spent years thinking this was what all American schools were like. So fancy."

"I think it's all quite a mix; some are fancier than that and others are total dives. It all depends on where you are and the wealth of the area. But whatever the building is, socially, this movie sure made an impression. I could see a lot of my own experience in it...even though I never got detention. My parents would've killed me."

Lorna sat back, sipping her wine. "They'd've killed you over _detention?_ Christ, mine never even noticed. I got expelled when I was fourteen, and for once it wasn't for something I did. Well, I was there, but I wasn't actually involved. My older sister, Siobhan, she got the bright idea to drop a lit cherry bomb down a toilet in the girls' room. What happened was about what you'd expect, and I'd got in so much trouble before that the headmaster assumed it was my idea. As if Siobhan wasn't capable'v thinking up stupid shite all on her own."

The wine had hit hard enough that Earlene's mental image of an exploding girl's lavatory sent her off the cliff again, but this time she held her ribs. "Oh god it hurts, what in hell did I think I needed to keep laughing for?..." This was incredibly voyeuristic to her, as though she was getting to peek in on a life she never could have dared to live. "Run the movie before you kill me," was the last she managed to get out. Reaching for a folded blanket, she curled up in it and tried to force herself to eat some apple without choking.

"It burns, Doctor, get it out," Lorna said, leaning forward to click the movie on.

Earlene was feeling the unaccountable urge to really push it with the wine, even though she knew better. She didn't believe it would truly hurt her. Send her further out of her head, yes, maybe. Listening to all these stories of Lorna's...she never did anything wrong. Never risked anything, never pushed any limits. It was less than half a cup of elven wine for chrissakes, and she was on a soft bed, warm and safe. Just for once, why not? And still she couldn't throw caution to the wind, quite right. As the watched, she took on the heavily watered wine first, remarking to Lorna that it was surprisingly good this way; as if the wine took over the flavor of the water. It wasn't so syrupy now as when at full strength, but made the water delightfully punch-like.

"Bender!" Lorna cried, when the delinquent in question entered the scene. She'd identified quite a lot with him, and rather wanted his coat.

Earlene's favorite stupid part came, with the jackass principal. "I hated that guy," she said of the character. " 'You mess with the bull, you get the horns.' Who in fuck would even say something like that? No wonder the kids thought he was a dick."

"The sort'v man who says something like that, the only sort, are insecure dinguses with a langer the size'v my pinky," Lorna said sagely, taking another sip. She really did feel so warm, so content. "He'd've had the shite kicked out'v him behind the gym at my school, and I'm sure a few'v the teachers would've helped."

"Ha ha! I'd pay to see something like that. Or, at least I think I would. It's one thing I loved about home. Mostly, when people acted like that, they got called out. New Yorkers have a fairly short brain to mouth response time." *

"Not surprised," Lorna said. "A load'v Irish people moved there a century and a half ago."

"True". She couldn't say at what point she heard the rest of the wine calling her, but she decided in her skewed state of mind that it would be slightly more responsible to get another glass of water before adding in the last of the wine. As she weaved around the end of the bed toward the carafe of water, she tripped on something. And there was one thought, and only one thought; not to break the glass in her hand. Which in turn accounted for the weird twist she made as she fell, and whatever she hit her head against on the way down. It was a glancing blow, but it too was funny, and giggling insanely, she got up, proudly displaying her intact glass, goblet, or whatever it was. "Saaaafe!" she hollered proudly, pouring her water and walking unsteadily back to the bed, using all her focus to set her prize down on the end table before crawling back under the blanket. "You should do somfing about zat carpit, id tripped me," she complained.*

"Jesus _Christ!_ " Lorna cried, unwittingly sounding quite a bit like King Arthur. "Earlene, allanah, you're, uh, bleeding." She snatched the nearest thing to hand - the flannel shirt she'd discarded when she changed clothes - and pressed it to Earlene's bleeding temple. "Hold that," she ordered, lighting a lamp after a bit of fumbling. With words that slurred, she was either staggeringly drunk, suffering a concussion, or both.

"Don' worry about it, doesn't even hurt. Must've caught myself ona corner'v sumpting," she said, touching her finger to where Lorna said it was bleeding. There was a looking glass mounted behind the bed, and she kneeled up, giggling, tracing a smiley face with the blood on her opposite cheek, laughing. "There," she said. "All better!" Lorna wasn't much buying it, until she saw that the thing really had stopped bleeding, or so it appeared, but not before she shoved Earlene's hand out of the way to see that the cut wasn't _that_ big. Though, she winced at the bruise that was forming around it.

Looking at that smiley face, Lorna shook her head. "Earlene, you would've scared the shite out'v some'v the other gangs," she said. "Talk about war-paint. You sit here and stay sitting up, and I'll get a cold compress." She tripped herself on her way to the toilet, but didn't manage to wound anything in the process (she did have rather more practice at moving about while under the influence of….well, everything). Wetting a washcloth, she staggered her way back to the bed, sticking it against Earlene's temple. "Hold that there. It might keep the bruise down." She highly doubted that, but at the very least, it couldn't hurt.

Earlene laughed more, but traded out the cloth for the shirt. "Oops, sorry about the shirt," she said. Though, it was already shades of red, so, it could have been worse. But no way was she disturbing the smiley face. And then the dance scene came to "We Are Not Alone," and she howled to see Lorna start in on the dance moves. Taking another huge swig of wine/water, she tapped the volume on the laptop as far as it would go. Clapping and sort of dancing while lying down (her stability was obviously shit just now), she sang along for Lorna's benefit.

Lorna was a shit dancer at the best of times, but she was so drunk she didn't care, and she doubted Earlene did, either. Trying to mimic Claire's twirling turned out to be a terrible idea; not only did she run hip-first into the end table, her flailing hand smacked the cleaver, giving her pinky finger a nick a good half-inch long. The thing was so sharp that she didn't notice until she felt the wet heat of blood.

"Son'v a _bitch_ ," she grumbled, holding her hand up. "We're one for one, I guess." It was a little nick, but hand wounds, like head wounds, had a tendency to bleed like bastards no matter how small.

Earlene threw her shirt at her, without comment and with a minimal amount of laughing.

Lorna wrapped the sleeve tight around her hand, raising it over her head so that it rested against the headboard. "Shane taught me that," she said, looking at Earlene. "If you have a real injury, I mean, you raise it up over the level'v your heart, so it doesn't bleed so fast. 'Course, your head's automatically above your heart, so, y'know. Easy, that. I got stabbed in the foot with a steak knife, so he made me lay in the ground with my feet propped up on chairs. Embarrassing as hell, it was, but it worked."

Earlene looked at her with mild disbelief and the beginnings of a headache. "I'm going to toss back the last of this stuff; I'm getting a little tired and maybe it'll finish the job. Either way, this whole evening was in the 'let's do it again' category," she said. Downing the last of the liquid happiness that was in her glass, she smiled. He'd grown up to be damn ugly, but she'd had such a crush on Judd Nelson in this movie…and it wasn't long before she drifted off to happy places.

Lorna knocked back the last of her own drink, slipping into slumber with her hand still over her head, until eventually she went limp as a noodle.

At daybreak the following morning, a brown-haired elleth opened the door, bearing her pail for wood ashes, and silently entered the room. Passing through to the sleeping area, her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the strange cutting tools on the table and floor, and then took note of the bed. Both firith (mortal women) were together here, in astonishingly odd positions, sound asleep, and bearing evidence of injury. Hurriedly leaving the room, and nearly dropping the pail as she set it down, she rushed to find the King's seneschal.


	31. Chapter 31

When Lorna woke, she wished she hadn't. A vague clunk made her stir, but it was more than enough, ringing through her head like a churchbell.

While she wasn't generally prone to morning-afters, she'd had a few spectacular ones, but this easily put them all to shame. Even before she opened her eyes, she could practically feel a second heartbeat in her head, her no doubt horribly dehydrated brain seeming to pulsate inside her skull. Her eye sockets themselves felt like they were lined with bony spines, so many and so sharp that she was keeping her eyelids shut, thanks so much.

She was half laying off the end of the bed, face mashed into her pillow, left arm dangling. There was a dry, crusty something on her hand - memory tossed up a fuzzy recollection of dancing like an idiot and smacking her own cleaver. Having just about enough energy to haul her arm up, she burrowed into her pillow, knowing already that the only cure for this was to sleep it off.

 _Let me die_ , Earlene thought, as a sound she did not comprehend, something metallic, sounded through her brain like a million manhole covers clanking down an echo chamber. _This is why you didn't go to wild parties, this is why you didn't get drunk at the pubs, and this is why an entire midtown construction crew is jackhammering inside your head. What did I even do?_ What came out of her mouth was probably more of a generalized moan. She wanted some water, badly, but getting to it seemed as probable as starting up the slopes of Mt. Everest. It seemed like she fought for a long time, but eventually one eye cracked open. _Where am I…? If she could only go back to sleep…_

What sounded like a stampede of African wildlife rang in her ears, causing her to moan again and try to cover them. Or at least, one of them. And even that was a bad idea, because the side of her head hurt. Worse than the headache. All she clearly recalled were Monty Python and coconuts, and that information wasn't doing anything to clear her hazy memories. _This must be a headache_ , she reasoned, and she didn't like it one bit. But at least the stampede had stopped. Something was touching her, very softly, maybe it was a hand, against her face. A sense of warmth spread over where it had hurt, and that hurt diminished and then left. But it did nothing for the pounding in her head. Hands tried to move her and she resisted them, whimpering, because, _god, my head is pounding_. And then the stampede started again before it went quiet.

"Wh'izzit?" Lorna mumbled; her best attempt at 'who is it?' She hadn't heard anyone else come in, but given that they were in a hall full of elves, that wasn't surprising. Unwilling to open her eyes - for she knew exactly how well that would end, with a morning-after like this - she wondered if she could crawl to the toilet, because oh God did she need to wee. This hadn't happened the last time they'd had this wine. Had they really had so much more this go-round? She couldn't properly remember, which was something she'd been quite familiar with, when she'd been younger and considerably more stupid.

She flailed vaguely with her left hand, fumbling like a blind person. "Wh'izzit?"

"Lorna," rang in her ears like the cacophony of hundreds of people yelling at once, a male voice.

"Oh my God." Her own voice was little more than a dry rasp. Pain exploded in her head, and she instinctively pulled her pillow over her head, not quite smothering herself.

Thanadir was baffled at this behavior, but he could also clearly see that her extremity had been injured, since neither apples nor coconut meat could explain the dried blood that appeared to be on her hand; he was certain this injury was absent when he'd left them. "Do not move," he instructed, in what sounded like an explosion of mountain thunder between her ears. A weird but not unpleasant sensation began to replace the sting of the cut.

"Ow." Lorna had no intention at all of moving just yet, for all her bladder was threatening mutiny. God, this was - she didn't even have words for this. "Can I pee yet?" The words were so muffled they were probably indecipherable. "Get up. Must pee."

"Awwmygerd quit shooouuting," or something vaguely like it, emitted from Earlene, who moaned pitifully, curling into an even tighter ball as her arms wrapped into the blanket and started to wad it over her head. No longer asleep, but definitely not fully present, her awareness was focused on doing anything she could to minimize the pain of each throb of her head, and drown out the sound that she perceived as others speaking into megaphones. And as neither Thanadir or Lorna had spoken above a whisper, the old elf was entirely flummoxed. His eyes roved around the room to the cleaver on the floor, the plate of food on the bed, the empty glasses on the end tables, the empty carafe, the blankets, the bottles of wine and vases...his eyes snapped back to the wine. Rising, he walked over to the shelf and held up the bottle with the broken seal, and observed the level still in the bottle, looking back at the two miserable figures on the bed. For quite possibly the first time in thousands of years, he felt anger rising toward his King.

Fighting to regain his composure, with his elegant fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked around with a glare when Thranduil burst into the room. When his nearly silent footsteps approached, Earlene faintly croaked, "for the love of all there is can't you lot be quiet?" A part of her was very much convinced that the street crew was working outside of her office, but, something about that conclusion really wasn't making sense. And yet it was the only explanation her mind could form to explain the incredible noise.

Thranduil heard his seneschal's sharp and silently transmitted opinion on the evidence of what had likely transpired, but easier yet for him to perceive was the pain and distorted perceptions of both women. And that his wife was far worse off than Lorna. Walking to the bedside immediately, he began to lift her as carefully as possible. "Nooooo, it hurts," she whimpered, as she tried to feebly fight him off.

 _Be still Earlene, I will make it better. Just a moment longer_. He looked up at Thanadir, silently asking for water in the glasses, and more water in the carafe. They would both be very, very thirsty in a matter of moments. Holding her to him, he corrected the problem, and the pain in her head dissolved away, along with the confusion. Her eyes opened, as she tried to comprehend a number of things. _Do not speak, Thanadir will help you drink_ , she heard. As she was burning with thirst, that instruction seemed like a wonderful idea. Trading positions, he handed Earlene over to the seneschal. She felt his arm around her, and the rim of a glass held against her lips; she drank greedily. _Not too fast_ , she heard with a certain tinge of humor, though nothing about this seemed funny to her.

Rising, he went to Lorna to do the same. _Mellonenin dithen_ , _I will help you to feel better, I am going to touch you. Moving you may hurt your headache but it will only be for a moment._

Lorna managed a vague mumble, curling into a rather tiny, pathetic ball of hair and misery. She at least managed to pry the pillow off her head.

As he took Lorna into his arms, part of him very much wanted to laugh, but he knew he was already in enough trouble with his seneschal, whose view of him having allowed them to try the wine was now in a very dim place indeed. So instead he tried to maintain a suitable look of contrition. And yet looking over at Earlene and catching sight of the dried blood smiley face on her cheek nearly undid him. He could see that Lorna would have to choose between two significant needs; she was ready to burst and ragingly thirsty, all at the same time. Like as not she was going to choose to care for the first. Sighing, he lifted her and carried her to that side of the room, carefully placing her on her feet. _There should no longer be pain, or disorientation. But just in case…._ she was at least not so far away.

"Thankyousomuch," she managed, before staggering into the bathroom. Not at all concerned with the differences between a human toilet and an elven one, she at least managed not to wee on the floor. Or herself.

She still staggered on her way back out, but not so badly. "If that's what a proper morning-after's like…." she sighed, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a nightmare, tangled around her like a spiderweb. "Worth it, though." She managed to make it to a glass of water, chugging like a drunken frat boy, as she was pretty sure the Americans would say.

Earlene, now toward the bottom of her third glass of water, was beginning to recall what had brought her to this pass. Her thirst was starting to abate. A little. And what arrived was the realization that at the moment, she'd caused a disruption. She still was not quite steady enough to trust herself to hold the beautiful glass vessel by herself. After what she'd already done to keep it from breaking, she was not risking dropping it now. And the one she dreaded facing the most was the elf holding her up and helping her drink. "I am sorry, Thanadir," she said, raising her eyes to his though she was half-afraid to look at him.

The lack of censure in his eyes made her feel worse. "Keep drinking, Earlene. You have not yet had enough. And do not worry," he said to her softly. "That you are well, is my concern. Not the other."

She really had no idea what to do with having been even mildly irresponsible, because she'd had so little practice at it. Thranduil smiled and shook his head, marveling at the disparity between these two mortals.

Thranduil was pouring glass after glass of water for Lorna, still trying to subsume his state of amusement. _Are you feeling better, Lorna?_

 _I am, thank you_ , she said, and meant it. Unlike Earlene, she had quite a lot of practice at being terribly irresponsible, so she didn't feel guilty - her only real regret was having drawn Earlene so far down the alcoholic rabbit hole. Earlene didn't have her rather fantastic history of substance abuse, after all. She chugged yet more, trying desperately to quench a thirst more raging than anything she'd ever encountered before - and, because she was drinking so fast, she wound up belching. Rather loudly.

"I'd say that was a seven," she said, before resuming her drinking.

Earlene's eyes widened but she said nothing, and continued to gratefully accept water. She was hardly going to comment about manners in her present circumstance. It took some more minutes, but finally her own need to use the, uh, facilities became hard to ignore. Realizing that Lorna was able to manage now on her own, Thranduil returned to Earlene to help her in that direction. Shortly after, all four of them were seated again on the bed, with Lorna attempting to wrangle her hair.

The difference between Lorna and Earlene still fascinated Thranduil, but he could not afford to indulge himself in these observations. "Do either of you still feel thirsty?" he asked. Heads that shook No both answered. He smiled. "It would seem that I have created a monster," he said, looking at both of them with thinly veiled mirth. Thanadir's arms crossed, and Earlene had the feeling this conversation was about to go badly. And yet she was very much surprised to hear her husband's words. "Both of you, listen carefully. I know why you did this, and I accept responsibility for having made the mistake of introducing you to something you would want so badly and yet not be able to tolerate. You have just learned that drinking too much of it has a painful consequence. And yet, in spite of this experience you will still wish to have it. So next time, please ask. Were you to drink the wine with an elf present, preferably me, we could permit you to have your indulgence and keep the worst of the ill-effects from causing you such grief."

Lorna snickered.

If his King had announced that he was going to open the doors of his Halls to all of Dublin, Thanadir could not have been more appalled. Earlene looked up to see that the seneschal no longer had his usual complexion; he was quite flushed. And she knew where this was headed, and why. Moving toward Thanadir, she grasped his shoulders. "Please, Your Excellency, may I say something to you?"

Mastering himself, he looked at Earlene and nodded. "You probably cannot understand this, but, while we would have been fine had we never tried it, we did try it, and now we cannot bear to be told we may never have it again. We will always wish to drink it; both for the taste and what it does to our emotions. Something that lets us easily feel so happy and lighthearted is not common for humans, unless it is one of the far more harmful substances in our world. The King's offer will allow us to enjoy something rare, and be safe from becoming sick. I did not mean to drink too much of it; I tried to avoid becoming ill but did not know enough. But to deny us completely is to tempt us too much, and will cause us to try to procure it on our own...like we already did. Please, do not be angry. I only wish to have this sometimes. It would be very cruel, to take it away. There are far worse choices to be made, in our world."

"I've made most'v them," Lorna said, picking futilely at her hair with the comb. "Could be worse. At least we didn't steal a city bus and go joyriding at two in the morning. All we did was watch movies, eat weird shit, and laugh. A lot. And fall over a bit."

"Yes...I hit my head because I fell and was overly determined to not break my glass," she lamented.

Only now did Thanadir see Earlene's dried blood smiley face, because she faced him. Somewhere between the ridiculousness of this and her respectful words to him, he softened. Moistening the hand towel with some water, he began wiping her cheek clean. "Very well," he sighed, "you have made your case, though I still think you would do better to not have the wine."

"You are probably right," she agreed wistfully as she leaned against him. "But then I would not have laughed so hard at the movie, and it felt wonderful to feel so happy and carefree and...silly."

Lorna rather wanted to go joyriding again, but alas, Lasg'len had no buses, and the closest thing to a taxi was Mick's van. Not nearly the same thing. "Oh Thanadir, if you'd only met the people I grew up with, you'd realize this was nothing. Stealing a bus isn't even the stupidest thing I've ever done - just the most destructive. I think." She was a terrible influence and she knew it, but she could always comfort him with the knowledge that Earlene was above influencing unless she didn't want to be. If only her damned hair wasn't such a disaster - she'd be at this for hours, so she'd best not get jam in it if she ate toast.

"A bus?" said the seneschal. "You stole a...the very large vehicles?"

Thranduil began laughing. "You see, my faithful friend, two bottles of wine were rather conservative, by comparison."

Earlene groaned.

"And for the record, had you opened the other bottle, you would have been much worse off. Dorwinion is much stronger than what you drank."

Lorna's eyebrows rose. "There's something stronger than what we had? Now I know you lot are way too lucky - you must not have livers the same way we do. Or kidneys. Or stomachs." Thought of anything stronger than that nectar they'd had last night was almost mind-boggling. She'd wondered about getting the elves stoned a while back, but now she doubted mere weed would do the trick.

"Yes, as I just mentioned. I will make a bargain with you two. I will be fully transparent about the wine, all the variations of it, and what it will do in various manners of consuming it, if you promise to not use it again unsupervised. Do we have an agreement?"

Earlene did not entirely know why he was asking, as he could simply order her to do whatever he wished. As it was, she thought he was being extremely generous in his response to this...incident. "For my part, yes," she replied.

"We do," Lorna said. "The more the merrier when you're drinking, anyway. You'll have to be here next time we watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I'm not quite sure just what Thanadir made'v it, but he laughed at times."

"I'M BEING REPRESSED," said Thanadir, standing up tall and offering his hand to Earlene. Both women broke out in laughter, and Thranduil was not sure he wished to know.

"Perhaps I may bring my wife home, so that we can begin considering things like dressing, and breakfast?" he asked.

"Sounds like a good idea," Lorna said. "I need a bath, and maybe if I wash this mess, it'll be easier to comb out. It looks like a bloody badger tried to make a nest in it. I don't know that I can remember my way to the dining hall, though." Honestly, she had to make a map of this place, so she didn't get lost and wind up in a room full of cheese, with no exit.

"We will eat in my quarters; I can come for you some time from now if you do not recall the way there."

"That I can find," she said. "I didn't think I'd ever be hungry again when I first woke up, but God am I now. If I don't deal with this mess now, though, I'll never manage." She held up the still-tangled wad of her hair. "You lot don't wait on me. I'll be there once my hair's no longer Cthulhu."

Earlene snickered at the reference but let it alone, and left on Thanadir's arm. Once they were some way down the passage, she spoke. "I really am sorry, for having caused a disturbance. I am not very good at being irresponsible."

The seneschal gazed down, amused. "I can see that," he said. "There was no harm done, Earlene. The elleth who found you both was very worried, not understanding anything about what she saw. And if you will excuse me, I will see to our meal, and rejoin you shortly." She found herself handed off to her husband.

 _You are not at all angry?_ she asked him.

 _Meluieg, you seem to forget your efforts on my behalf. If you think that indulging in my wine and giving yourself a splitting headache will cause me to anger after such a thoughtful and well-executed experience as you provided to me last night, think again._

 _Oh. Yes, I'd managed to forget about that. Mortal memory, and all_ , she grinned.

Chuckling, he shook his head as they walked on.

* * *

Lorna had a very tasty breakfast, a stop off at Earlene's cottage to pet the kitten, and then back to Mick's, where she discovered Chloe's Kia had shat out its radiator. She spent the next four days dealing with that mess, and realized abruptly that Mick would be getting his cast off soon. She'd stay on a few days, to make sure he could handle it without her, but then her original reason for coming to Lasg'len would be over. She'd have to figure out a new schedule, and divide her time between Baile and the forest. Given that she'd spoken to Ratiri a few times, she couldn't say she was sorry for the excuse to go home for a few days each week.

The second day, she got a letter from Niamh: all things papers and passport were good to go. She also got a few more things from Amazon, including a patchwork velvet tunic that she wasn't willing to wait for an excuse to wear. She still had a clean pair of jeans, so she tossed it on with them, heading out for the cottage.

The day was another bright and sunny one, which was a bit unusual for Ireland - only rarely did they have so many nice days in a row this early in the spring. She wondered if the elves had anything to do with it, consciously or unconsciously. At this point, honestly, she wasn't willing to rule anything out.

 _New York_ , she thought, as she approached the driveway. Thought of going to New bloody York was exciting and fucking terrifying, because she'd never been on a plane in her life. She was going to get as drunk as she could get while still appearing sober, or else she'd see if she could steal a Xanax off Earlene, because she didn't foresee herself handling that well. She hated heights at the best of times, and they'd be flying over water. A lot of water. Water the plane could crash in. The thought made her twitch.

As Lorna hopped out, she could swear she heard shouting. _What the fuck?_ She listened again, and there was no doubt. It was Earlene's voice, and the words "YOU FUCKER! YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE FUCKER!" were coming over the drive loud and clear. Christ, had she driven up in the middle of a fight with Thranduil? But...she usually wouldn't talk to either of the elves like that...or would she? Maaaaaaybe she'd better go around the back. Maybe she'd better talk to Thranduil first? _Maybe this was not a good time…._

Lorna crept around the back, wondering why the hell she never made use of her damn mobile, except to take pictures with. There was no Thranduil back here, nor had he yelled anything - and she was fairly certain he wouldn't take being yelled at without yelling back. In a few ways, she was pretty sure he was just too much like her.

Looking through the window revealed that Earlene was alone, and apparently furious with the television. Okay. So, no domestic argument; just...whatever the hell she was watching. _Thranduil, is Earlene okay? She's pissed off at whatever's on her TV. Apparently really pissed off._

 _We were just on our way, Lorna, because I too am wondering what in Eru's name is going on. I may as well investigate because I certainly cannot focus on inventories with what I am currently hearing. Thanadir and I will arrive shortly._

"THAT IS NOT A GODDAMN STRIKE, THAT WAS A MILE OFF THE PLATE! ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?" came through loud and clear.

Strike...plate...the terms were vaguely familiar. Okay, she was probably watching some sport or other - what the hell sports did America have? Basketball? That weird thing they called football, that actually wasn't, because you don't pick up the god damn ball in proper football? No, and no; process of elimination left baseball. How very American.

"You sound like you want to rip someone's head off and shit down the hole," Lorna said, giving a somewhat perfunctory knock on the back door - perfunctory, because she doubted Earlene would hear it.

"Hi Lorna! Ha ha! Yes I do, and it usually is an umpire, and this turd is one of the worst in baseball. Cannot. Stand. Him. YOGI IS ROLLING IN HIS GRAVE, YOU MORON!" she hollered, with projection Lorna could not exactly say she'd heard before. The scene was highly amusing. Earlene was wearing a pinstriped white shirt with a large number 3 and the word RUTH across the back, and a blue hat with a Y superimposed over a letter N. Even she could work out that this was probably a New York ball team, but beyond that, she was clueless. Still, it was damn funny to see the usually collected Earlene carrying on….like she did, every day behind the wheel. Rolling her eyes, she quipped "I'll get the kettle."

Earlene smiled, liking it that Lorna felt at home enough now to just get her own tea going. A moment later, it went to a commercial and she muted the TV. "Sorry about this, it must look like quite a scene. I'm not really that much of a sports nut but Opening Day for the Yankees is a very long-standing family tradition. Baseball is a fairly passionate thing for a lot of people in the City. And while I don't watch every game, I do keep up on the team. It's a pretty big cultural thing, to put it mildly. Do you know baseball at all? I was under the impression that outside of America it isn't terribly well known."

"I know it exists, but that's about it," Lorna said, filling the kettle and putting it on the stove. "I think it's vaguely like cricket? They both have a bat and ball, at least. I was never much into sport myself - we played it at school, but I got banned from cricket after a boy pulled my hair and I hit him with a bat."

Earlene winced but pretended to ignore her latest confession of assault and battery. "There's a little more to it than that. The basic rules of the game are really quite simple, but then, as with most things, there are subtleties and finer points of play that lead to it really being this incredibly nuanced….thing. When I was a little girl, I'd watch and it would think, 'oh, the pitcher is throwing the ball and the batter tries to hit it.' And now I realize that there are novels that could be written about the strategies that are actually happening between the pitcher, catcher, and batter. And all of that is probably not very interesting so I'll shut up," she smiled self-effacingly, not wanting to drown her friend in unwanted enthusiasm. "Oops, commercial's over," she said, bringing the game back on.

The kettle would be a bit in boiling, so Lorna sat down, wondering just what the differences between baseball and cricket were, aside from vastly different bats and a smaller ball. Hitting someone with a baseball bat, she thought, wouldn't be nearly so effective. She certainly would not have expected Earlene to be so enthusiastic about it, but family traditions ran deep. The opening of football - proper football, dammit - drew out a load of people who otherwise weren't too interested. "So how's it work?"

It being right after the bottom of the third inning, it was as good of a time as any to explain a little, but before she could draw breath, the ellyn arrived. Instead of the usual greeting, they both blankly stared at her, with Thranduil finally asking, "Meluieg, what is….Ruth?" Her attire completely baffled them.

Earlene grinned. "Not what, who. It is a name, this shirt is the baseball uniform worn by Babe Ruth, one of the greatest, if not the greatest, New York Yankee in the history of the game. Yesterday was the opening day of baseball season in America, and I am watching my team, the Yankees, play against the Houston Astros. This was supposed to happen yesterday, but the game was cancelled on account of rain. Which in April in New York is not in the least bit surprising. I was just about to explain the game to Lorna. The teams take turns attempting to score and attempting to defend against the other team's efforts; only the team at bat can score. The defending players have nine players on the field at any given time. Five in the infield, which is anything inside of that diamond of white chalk. Three in the outfield, and one who while usually in the outfield does as needed. Each batter has up to three opportunities to successfully hit the ball; if the ball is not caught, then that allows the batter to run to the bases. Should the runner make it all the way around the bases, a run, or a point, is scored. Each team plays until three outs are called against them, and nine innings are played. Those are the most minimal details, though there is much more to it", she said breezily, before hollering THAT WAS A STRIKE!" at a volume that caused Thanadir to blanch.

Thranduil, clearly having stumbled on a previously unseen facet of mortal behavior, parked himself on the sofa and asked for tea. Lorna cocked an eyebrow and got out more mugs and teabags.

"So it basically is a bit like a less stupidly complex game'v cricket," she said, pulling the kettle off the stove as soon as it started to scream. "And I guess screaming at umpires is a universal constant, no matter what the game or part'v the world."

"Probably. But it really is complex on some levels. Especially for anyone into math and keeping records. There are people who follow the statistics of baseball, and it's completely ridiculous. There are statistics on the statistics….but I've never been too interested in that part of it." As the game went on, Earlene continued to elaborate on what they were seeing, and the elves were reasonably impressed at some of the more difficult plays that were made, and later on Earlene explained the phenomenon of the 'seventh inning stretch.' Which gave her a moment to realize that Lorna probably came by for a reason having nothing to do with the Yankees. "Anything new going on, on your end?" she asked.

"I've got paperwork from Niamh," Lorna said, fishing it out of her bag. She still carried Gran's old knitting bag, because she flatly refused some modern handbag. Why, she wasn't sure; she just...did. "Passports are a go. We've got to get our pictures taken and she'll give them to whoever the hell is fast-tracking this for us. Normally it'd take about six weeks to get one, but she thinks she can knock that down to four."

"Oh, wow. So then the question becomes, how sure is she? It's sort of the cornerstone to planning a trip; if you can't have definite dates it all gets a lot more complicated...flights, lodging and all that; they tend to get a little picky on that sort of thing. But...if we were to plan it eight weeks out, it at least sounds like we'd be allowing a cushion even? You and I are good either way; you only need a simple passport and I've already got one. Obviously. And then there is the question of, does that time frame work for you?"

"It's not like I've got anything else to do," Lorna said. "I'll work for Jamie until he's got someone new trained, but I think he halfway does already. Niamh's about ninety percent sure she can have them in four weeks, but since there's that other ten percent...yeah. I've got to admit, I've never been on a plane before, and it scares the ever-loving shite out'v me - though if Shane comes through with those jewels, at least we could afford good seats." While she would probably fit in an economy seat quite easily, none of the others would.

Earlene laughed. "Frugal as I am, even I refused to fly coach coming here. It is money well-spent, and the ellyn in one of those cattle cars….it would be comical. Planes are very safe, Lorna. You've seriously got a better chance of being run over in Lasg'len by a clown riding a bicycle than in being in a plane accident. And there is no reason we can't get a direct flight into New Jersey or JFK. It's basically the first of April now; I guess we'll aim this for the first of June. Which will be nicer anyway; the city can still be miserably cold this time of year, and usually it isn't so hot yet in early June. Nor are kids out of school; there are lots of things in favor of that calendar slot."

"See, everyone says that," Lorna said, dunking her teabag. "And I'm sure they're right, but even so, I'm getting as drunk as I can be and still appear sober before I get on that plane. Heights are not my friend, and they never have been - one'v you lot can have the window seat. I'll just take some melatonin and try to sleep the whole way."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "You will be with me, Lorna. I will not allow you or your sensibilities to come to grief. You may save all of those for what Earlene has described to me of this...subway."

"That's not fair," Earlene retorted. "I only pointed out to you that you will not be viewed as having legitimately been to the City unless you ride the subway. I rode it every day, and I'm still here," she teased. "Besides, if anyone is equipped to manage the personalities one finds there, it is Lorna."

Lorna laughed. "You've no idea how much I'm genuinely impressed you rode the subway every day and didn't murder someone," she said. "So long as I don't get stepped on, I'm good, but I can't promise I won't get in a cussing match with someone, if what you've said already is true." The thought held a certain appeal to it - though it was a damn good thing Thranduil and Thanadir had dealt with the worst of her temper, or God knew what she might have done on a subway, other than nothing good.

"Well, the beauty of it is, when you really get rolling you tend to lapse into Irish. So who knows, you'll like as not fit right in. That's what can be so odd. The first Rule of Subway is, never talk to anyone. Better yet, never even make eye contact with anyone. Anything that goes wrong on a subway train is almost always a result of violating one or both of those simple requirements."

"Why would you be so...unfriendly?" asked Thanadir.

"It isn't being unfriendly. To be unfriendly, one has to be rude, or hostile. It is actually a form of great courtesy, and therefore friendliness. There are over eight million people in one place, Thanadir. We are all surrounded and we would all like a little time to ourselves. We give this gift by ignoring each other, as much as possible."

Earlene was feeling more than a small twinge of guilt, for enjoying that the seneschal was obviously perplexed.

"This makes me realize something. There is a lot you could read about, in the two months ahead, to understand more of the City. I'm afraid that there is human culture and then there is New York culture. It is time to get you both email accounts, and send you articles to read. At least that way you will get a laugh out of learning these things."

"There is a random fun thing I read, about a billion years ago," Lorna said. "The origin of toe tags: most'v the coroners in New York were Irish in the eighteen hundreds, and there's an old Irish custom'v tying the toes'v the dead together so they don't walk. Hence, toe tags." That's right, George Romero: Ireland was way ahead of you.

"Part of me wishes this was a longer trip, Lorna, because with the stuff you know we'd clean up at a pub quiz night. It's a shame, really…."

"Some other trip," Lorna said. "Yeah, the cops and the coroners were all Irish, because nobody else wanted to do either job. Being a cop was dangerous, and being a coroner before refrigeration was just gross. I wouldn't want any'v my...customers...chasing after me in the night, either." She sipped her tea, trying not to laugh. When she'd first heard that tidbit ages ago, she'd dreamt of toe-tied zombies trying to chase her and failing. "The air pollution, though - I've heard it's rank. Are we sure these two won't hate life, even if they don't get sick? And yes, Thranduil, I'm aware I'm worrying. It's what I do. I don't have a child or a cat, so everyone gets worried about." She arched an eyebrow at him, the quirk almost a dare.

The King's only reply was his look of pure innocence and mock pain at her effrontery. Lorna stuck out her tongue at him while Earlene ignored all of it to answer the question.

"It can be less than wonderful in the summer, and I'm not saying you won't smell car exhaust because you will. And some other things too; piss comes to mind. It's a huge city and that means it has armpits and arseholes. But it's right at the edge of the ocean, and windy as hell more often than not. We will spend more time than not closer to Lower Manhattan."

"What all should I even pack?" Lorna asked. She'd have to buy herself some luggage, for the closest thing she had was Gran's old suitcase - the thing had come as a wedding present. In 1945. She'd never traveled heavy, but she'd also been content to wander around like a homeless person and only carry clean underwear. Probably not something she should do in this situation, lest none of these three actually want to be seen in public with her.

"At the very least boots or shoes that are nice yet comfortable. I want us to have time where we don't have to care about how we look. But I'll be honest, if I meet up with any colleagues, it would make you feel less awkward if you blend in with their sort. So probably one more conservative outfit that is simple, high quality, and fashionable. Like slacks and a blouse, that sort of thing or similar. Capri pants and cotton tees that aren't printed will get you taken more seriously than shorts and printed t shirts. Maybe a good pair of walking sandals..I guess some of this depends on how hot or cold you usually run. For all the rest, I'll know a lot more when I get into the planning process. That time of year, it's around 75F in the daytime and 60F at night and...crud, what is that in centigrade?; I've never gotten totally used to the other numbers...ok figure it will be around 25C in the day, maybe hotter yet. Maybe 15C at night. Like that, give or take how much anyone can know about these things."

That was pretty hot, by Irish standards; summer clothes were a definite. Lorna wasn't sure what walking sandals were, but that was what Amazon was for. "Well, I've got good boots already," she said. "I'm sure I'll muddle through." She didn't have that giant scar over her left tit anymore, so she could actually wear a vest-top without drawing stares.

"If you want I'll help you shop online, but I don't want to be a busybody. And needless to say, if you even think it's for this trip, we want to reimburse you. I think I might be shopping a little myself. I could use an extra top or two and...Thranduil, this necklace...does it, uh, work in faraway places?"

Her husband grinned. "If I am in the faraway places with you, then, yes," he said, coming over to steal her baseball cap, and placing it on his own head.

"Well," said Earlene with a frown, "now you've done it. I'd better never see you in a Mets cap. You've just declared fealty to the Pinstripes."

Thanadir was grinning from ear to ear. "He's being repressed!"

Lorna choked on her tea, laughing so hard she nearly dropped her teacup. Hurrying into the kitchen for a hand towel, she wiped her face and the front of her shirt. "Never change, Thanadir," she said. "Never change."

* * *

Lorna spent a few days pondering what to do, while she busied herself working on the van (which she had already dubbed the Mystery Machine, even though she'd never get away with making it look like the Mystery Machine. Alas, only in her mind).

The thought of shopping with Earlene was rather daunting - especially as she had been recommending things like slacks and blouses. Clothing like that worked very well on someone built like Earlene, but on someone built like Lorna? She'd look like a little kid playing dress-up, and feel like a stranger in her own skin.

She still had close to five grand in her account, at least, so she could afford something good. Buying her leggings off Amazon had taught her that quality was variable, so she'd try doing something in person. Even she could tell a good quality fabric from a bad one, thanks to Gran.

No, she didn't want to go with Earlene, but she also didn't want to go alone, so she rang Ratiri. Who was suitably disturbed.

"Lorna, while I would love to spend a day in Dublin with you, I have to warn you I have no idea how to shop for women's clothing," he said.

"Neither do I," she retorted, grunting a little as she wrenched off (some car part I need to look up, because I am brain dead). "We can hit a pub afterward. We're probably going to want to." She knew she would, anyway. She had good boots, and a good coat, and she could get luggage off Amazon, but clothes...how the hell could she balance not embarrassing Earlene with not turning into a stranger? The mere thought of slacks and a blouse made her twitch. There had to be an in-between.

So she met him in Baile, picked him up, and on the M7 discovered that he was a passenger after her own heart - encouraging her moments of recklessness without actually being a backseat driver. After having forced herself to be so careful when ferrying around Earlene and the Elves (and it was going to be a band, god damn it; did Ratiri play an instrument?), it was quite refreshing to have a passenger who said, "Go on, you can get around him. What's the accelerator for, if not to stomp on?"

"You're seriously going to New York?" he asked, while she dodged around a Prius, muttering about Holy Hand Grenades. Earlene was right; she really would lob it at first opportunity.

"I am. Scary thought, but exciting, too. I've been to England and Scotland, but I'm not sure such a relatively short distance counts, does it? It's not like going over the bloody Atlantic Ocean. It'll be warm there, too - 25 degrees at least, Earlene said. I don't know that she realizes how hot that is to us, in our damp, drizzly countries." Ireland did get plenty of warm summer days, but not usually that warm. _Cotton_ , Gran would say. _Lots of cotton._ She'd never had any use for all this synthetic fabric tripe, as she'd put it.

"Well, even if we don't find anything, you can have a pint or five," he said. "I'll drive home if I need to."

"Best offer I've had in months," she said, shooting him a grin.

Dublin had five major department stores, and she'd researched all of them online. Brown Thomas was stupidly overpriced; on their website she saw a blouse - a damn blouse - that was three hundred fifty euro. _Why? Who the hell knew._ Anyway, they'd be giving that one a pass. She'd have to ask Earlene why someone would charge such highway robbery for a blouse, and why anyone would pay it.

Debenham's was first to be hit, though mercifully not literally. Parking in most of Dublin was utter shit, but there were ways to be sneaky even with a van (though not all of them were precisely legal, but whatever). It still meant there was something of a walk to the store itself, but the day was lovely and she had Ratiri with her. She was hardly going to complain.

Neither had mentioned her kiss to his cheek at the party, and she wondered what that meant, until he somewhat hesitantly touched her hand. Was he as touch-averse as she was? It would explain quite a bit, and honestly, it made things easier. If they both had this issue, it meant she wouldn't have to feel weird or guilty about taking the whole 'touching' thing more slowly than was probably normal. His hand was warm, and so much larger than her own; if it weren't for the grey in her hair, from a distance she'd probably look like a child walking with him. It had been so long since she'd simply walked hand-in-hand with someone - she and Liam had all the time, and she'd kicked anyone who called them sappy.

Ratiri looked slightly uncertain, so she gave him a smile and a squeeze of her fingers. It was something of a relief, really, that he was was as awkward as her. It meant she wasn't afraid to say or do something utterly stupid; after all, he was just as likely to pop off with something odd. Mutual awkwardness was actually rather nice, if a bit pathetic, at their age.

"Are you going to be able to handle the flight?" he asked, as they approached the doors.

"I hope so. I figure I'll get us all to the airport, then knock back eight or nine shots before we get on the plane." She couldn't mention Thranduil's telepathic Xanax out loud, though she'd tell him about it later. When it came to anything related to the elves, he was such an adorable nerd, and she loved it.

Ratiri, for his part, really had no idea what the hell he was doing. He and Katherine had been students; they'd both lived in jeans and T-shirts, with nary a tunic in sight. She'd been much taller than Lorna, though willowy; the things she'd worn just wouldn't work on someone so tiny. (He would admit this to no one - and fortunately, he hadn't had the thought until after he'd last seen Thranduil - but if he managed not to fuck it up and things actually progressed in a more romantic direction, how the hell certain things would...work. She was tiny, and Ratiri was not...in more ways than one. The last thing either of them needed was for certain, er, _things_ to be nothing but uncomfortable.)

Still, he would do his best now, and try not to let the fact that he thought she was lovely in anything muck things up. That would hardly help her - though he also doubted Earlene would care too much, so long as he tried to steer her away from too much flannel. She did seem to have a fixation for it; just now she had on some sort of tunic of black-and-blue check, with black leggings (not the same pair the kitten had destroyed), and big black boots of a sort Katherine had worn - Doc Martens, he thought. The entire getup ought to have looked ridiculous on a woman of thirty-nine, but she was adorable.

If only he could keep her away from the plaid, she could look adorable and less...rustic. 'Tiny lumberjack' was probably not what she ought to be going for.

He refused to let himself be bewildered by a department store, even a sprawling monstrosity like this one, despite the fact that he hadn't been in one in years. At work he lived in scrubs, and at his height, he had to buy his normal clothes at specialty stores. That both he and Lorna were so bad at this at their age was vaguely pathetic, but at least they were both bad at it - and in their defense, neither had strayed far out of the narrow lane of their lives after their respective spouses had died. They had to re-learn to engage with the wider world - at forty-one and thirty-nine.

This was going to be a disaster, but at least it would be an entertaining one. If they both had to learn, at least they were doing it together.

As soon as they entered the place, Lorna was damned glad she'd brought Ratiri, because all the racks of clothing in immediate view were roughly her height. Lacking the help of someone taller, she could well get lost in here, like it was that Greek maze with the minotaur. _Jesus._ The place was massive, and came complete with a free-standing map with a 'you are here' mark at the entrance.

"We're doomed," she muttered. "I think we actually are going to need that pint."

Ratiri laughed. "Probably. I'm guessing you'll want 'petites'."

"It's that or the children's section," Lorna muttered, shaking her head. "I'd really rather not hit that."

The store, mercifully, wasn't terribly busy, but it was still busy enough, to the point that Ratiri wound up going ahead to clear the path. Watching her navigate the racks of clothing was more than a bit hilarious; she went at shopping like a general went to war, flipping through each with rather impressive speed.

She frowned, a frown that grew ever deeper. "This is all shite for little old ladies," she grumbled. "Screw it, I'll hit the full-sized people section, and Thanadir can alter them. I'm tiny, not seventy."

He actually had to agree with her, though not laughing was an ever-harder battle as she stalked toward the women's section (were petite women not considered women? Why was the petite section just labeled 'petite'? Obviously there must not be anything for short men in the fashion world.)

Lorna, because she apparently had a bloodhound's instincts for plaid, immediately found two: one a deep red and dark grey cotton, with three-quarter sleeves; the other deep green and black check, sleeveless, and, rather terrifyingly, made out of silk. But the fact that it was silk, she was sure, would make the pattern more acceptable. The price tags of both made her quail a bit, but it was for work. Fuck it.

Ratiri felt rather more awkward that he had expected, and not just because of the strange looks he was receiving from other women in the section. Lorna was so small that she hid easily among the racks; from a distance, he looked like a man alone in the women's section, no doubt agonizing over some article of clothing he didn't understand. He fumbled through the racks as an excuse not to look at any of them, pretending to be intent on his task.

"Lorna," he said, pausing. "Look." He held out a short-sleeved tunic of black velvet, which had flowers and leaves of grey and silver embroidered around the neckline and down the front. Surely Earlene would have no objection to that, and it would look quite lovely on Lorna.

"Gimme," she said, making grabby-hands. "Jesus that's lovely, and it won't make me feel like Corporate Skipper."

"Skipper?" he asked.

"Well, I'm too short to be Barbie, aren't I?" Lorna asked, and burst out laughing at his expression. "I can't very well say flat-out 'no' to slacks and a blouse, even if they make me twitch, but if I find things like this - if you find, you're better at it than I am, it seems - I won't have to. If I have to go out in shite I'm not comfortable in, it'll wreck my trip, and I'll turn into a ball'v awkward." Because, you know, she wasn't already spectacularly good at that.

Ratiri pinched the bridge of his nose, and dissolved into helpless laughter himself. "Corporate Skipper," he groaned. "Now I'm never going to un-see it."

"You're welcome," Lorna grinned. "A few more and we won't even have to hit another store. I just need something lightweight with no sleeves - maybe two somethings, in case I spill something on the first. Though I'm not letting go'v my boots unless it's sandal weather - women's shoes're bloody torture devices. Whoever designed high heels was a damn sadist."

Two racks over, a middle-aged woman in a grey business suit choked on a laugh.

"Try this one on," Ratiri said, holding out the velvet tunic. "If it fits, we'll look for more like it."

Finding the dressing room was something of a mission - surely there ought to be more of them, with a store this big? - but when they did, Lorna left her bag and her other shirts with Ratiri, and swapped her flannel tunic for the velvet one. It was wonderfully soft - softer than anything she'd worn that wasn't elf-made, in fact. It was a little big, as expected, but it actually worked. It meant she didn't feel like an idiot when she went out to show it to Ratiri.

"How's it look?" she asked, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

 _It looked...perfect_ , he thought. Somehow it went perfectly with her big black boots, and the silver in the embroidery brought out the silver in her hair. The Elves might be the Elves, but she was still a little sprite. "Lovely," he said, and for once didn't feel at all self-conscious about saying it. Perhaps this would be less difficult than he thought.

* * *

For the last six days, Earlene had been spending inordinate amounts of fun time on email, sending ridiculous amounts of links to articles on everything under the sun. AranFionn at gmail dot com had been created, and was being stuffed to the gills, as was HiiirCian at the same provider. Lorna had not been spared either, being peppered with everything from pictures of print tunic tops to suggestions for high quality sandals. Even by her own admission, she was having a little too much fun, but it was occurring in among that which was less fun; the meticulous planning of this trip. Alone, she could have wrapped this up in a day; there were luxuriously housed colleagues that would have gladly hosted her without batting an eye. But this...this was all but an entourage. So the silly articles made her laugh...and maybe a lot of that was because she'd never given thought to how the denizens of the City viewed themselves, exactly. Nor how outsiders viewed them; it proved to be an all-around education.

Her reading called her own little identity crisis to the forefront, as well. The level of eagerness she felt for this journey surprised her. She'd been so certain that she was turning her back on the States for good. Not only had she wished for a different life, she wished to escape the sense of the ridiculous she was beginning to feel there. It was an election year, and after already listening to months of political blather, it was becoming apparent that the candidacy was shifting toward a Clinton/Trump contest. Shaking her head, she sighed. Obviously, she had no objection to earning money, nor to being shrewd in business dealings. And yet, the man's ongoing lack of modesty had caused her opinion to turn toward the negative. The rest of the country might know of him, but not like New York City did. He'd been haughty and dismissive when she'd met him, and she hadn't liked at all the way he'd looked her up and down, as if she was already laid out in his bed. The memory sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. And yet the other...in so many ways that option appeared no better. And when the time came to vote, could she actually cast a ballot? _I've knelt before my King, swearing fealty and the forsaking of all other allegiance or authority. America might not know it, nor do I plan to tell them, but haven't I more or less cast aside my citizenship? Can I still vote, in any kind of good conscience? I kind of doubt it…_

And yet something still made her want to return. Was it a sense of pride in where she'd been, the resilience of the city she'd called home for so long? Was it just wanting to walk among the skyscrapers once again, and feel the pride in everything that people who lived and worked there had accomplished? Or was it a yen to look on the relics of the things that had caused her so much pain, when she'd now been given the gift of healing? To say goodbye one more time, from a place in her heart that wouldn't shatter every time she tried? _Maybe it is all these things, and more besides,_ she reasoned.

During this moment of introspection, a notification chime rang. Expecting that it was another query from her firm, she grinned and toggled over a tab to open to her email. After Thranduil had helped her regain control of her consulting situation, she found that she now enjoyed the correspondences with her former office. They were stimulating, challenging, and were all being channeled through one of her colleagues with whom she'd had a close working relationship (and who was not a blithering idiot). It had provided the atmosphere and the encouragement to not simply turn away wholly from her vast store of knowledge but to keep a foot in the pond, so to speak.

But it was not from Tim at all; it was from Claire Frazier, who she'd hired to help sort her situation with Aidan. And it was a link to an encrypted email, which meant that it was important. "Thranduil, would you mind coming to sit with me?" she asked. He still liked to perch on the stool at her kitchen counter to use his computer, which vaguely amazed her as both she and Thanadir, when he was here, strongly preferred the sofa. Realizing right away that this was potentially important and unsettling information for which his wife wanted his emotional support, he closed down his screen and went to her. _This may be nothing but..._

 _It may be something_ , he finished, seating himself next to her with his usual elegant grace. She clicked it open.

 _"Earlene, greetings. I'll spare you the fluff; we have more information than we expected at such an early juncture. Specific documentation dug up by the P.I. is attached, but here's the summary:_

 _Your brother Aidan married a Madison Darst, aged 30, two years prior, after what appears to have been approximately nine months of seeing her. Much of the information obtained came via personal friends of Madison. These were only too eager to talk to the individual I hired; thus the relatively rapid results. Their stories had a great deal of consistency, and much of what was said was supported by postings on social media; we feel fairly confident concerning the accuracy of what is here._

 _Madison wanted a baby very badly. Aidan did not, but was very taken with her. You can see via the attached pictures that she was extraordinarily attractive._

"That sounds like Aidan's type", she muttered aloud as she read and then thought….was?

 _He relented on this subject prior to their wedding, rather than risk her loss. Though his wife was very much in love with your brother, few of her friends felt enthusiastic about the match. When asked why, the replies were variations on, 'I can't explain to you why I felt as I did; I simply did not trust him. I felt like he loved her more for her looks than the rest of her.' "_

 _And that sounds entirely believable of Aidan too_ , flared her thought.

 _"Next comes information that is tragic, and I'm sorry to be the one to relate it. Madison died from a preventable complication of pregnancy, immediately after giving birth to Allanah. She was very immersed in alternative ideas about health and wellness, as were some in her circle of friends. In spite of Aidan being a physician, and in spite of her having no particular medical background, she did not adhere to what would be considered a normal routine of wellness examinations as her pregnancy progressed. Our understanding from what we saw via social media posts is that Madison vehemently defended her views, seeking a healthy pregnancy by her own methods. She ate a meticulous diet of organic foods, exercised, certainly there was no drinking or drugs...you name it. This apparently was a source of strain between her and your brother, and at some point in her nine months they had 'agreed to disagree'. He could not force her to seek what she referred to as "Western medicine," and her views extended to insisting on a home birth with a midwife._

 _Everything seemed well, Allanah was delivered at 7lbs, 1 oz. on December 25th at 4:32pm. Madison continued to refuse hospital care or any manner of examination or monitoring. Within twelve hours after the birth, she experienced seizures from a condition called "postpartum preeclampsia," and could not be saved. It was...disastrous. Those who were friends of Madison rose to the occasion and helped Aidan round the clock with Allanah, until a full-time professional caregiver could be hired. Your brother, it appears, has colleagues but no one fitting the description of a personal friend."_

 _Small fucking wonder_ , she breathed, but had to add, _Merry Christmas. Jesus._ _Even Aidan did not deserve that._

 _Then it goes from bad to worse. Aidan has unhesitatingly cared for Allanah by every means financial, but has been reported as having no interest in the child. For Madison's sake, her friends have maintained a ruse of friendliness toward him in order to be able to have a window of access into the home, but to a one they are all dismayed and distressed about his disinterest in his daughter. The P.I. was able to determine by means I will not mention here that your brother has profiles on a number of matchmaking sites, and has been already followed to three different locations, at which he met with women for what strongly appear to be dating purposes._

 _As much as I wanted to hope your instincts were wrong, Earlene, it would seem you know your brother well. Regarding the most extreme possible outcome, your adoption of your niece, you need to be aware that Madison had no living relatives who would be able to contest Aidan's relinquishment of his daughter, if indeed that is his intention. New York State law and Irish family law place the following hurdles in our path…"_

A truly formidable list of attachments accompanied this missive that Earlene decided she would look at later. Closing her computer, she tucked up her legs underneath her, seeking her husband's arms. He brought her into his lap, holding her tightly.

 _I wanted to be wrong_ , she said.

 _I know you did, meluieg. This is not your fault, nor the child's. What will you do?_

 _That depends on you, more than a little, Thranduil. My life does not truly belong to me any longer. When I swore myself to you, this was the absolute last scenario I could have envisioned. And, look at my life. Our life. I am to raise a child that is not my own in the Halls of the elves? This is at a minimum an eighteen year commitment. And…what about what I want, for me?_

Her mind simply seized. It was too hard to say all of this, too hard to confront the level of selfishness she'd found in herself on this topic.

 _Earlene, meluieg, I already know that which you feel you cannot speak. This is...me._

 _I suppose it is_ , she sighed.

 _Let us discuss these things one at a time. I can tell you that I will gladly support you in this task, if it is indeed your choice to undertake it. The little child is your family, Earlene. I love children. Thanadir loves children. Lorna too would surprise you, in this. We do not lack for love, nor housing, nor food, nor willingness to guide and teach._

Earlene nodded. _You must know, I do not intend to make this fully easy for him. I will ask a price, a financial price. He does not get to do this to me, to us, with no consequence whatsoever. He also will retain no parental rights. And he will be told in no uncertain terms that if he fathers another child, I will return to America and kill him myself. Off the record and out of all hearing of others, of course._

Thranduil chuckled before he commented further, tightening his hold on her a little. _As for the other...Earlene, I made you a promise. But I also told you that you would have to be the one to ask me. I cannot, I will not influence you in this decision._

She stared at the sofa pillow, suddenly fascinated with its geometric pattern. Blinking once, she still stared in silent reflection. _Would waiting make a difference? What if all this with Aidan isn't right; what if it all falls through and there is no Allanah, will it change what you want?_ A certainty, and a desire that seemed to come almost out of nowhere flared within her. _No, it will not. And you only have so much time, you know that_ , she reminded herself.

 _Thranduil, I want a child. I wish to bear your child. I want us to have a child, of our own. Is that what you need me to say to you?_

Keeping his mental tone calm when his heart soared with joy was not easy. He still felt he had to be careful; she needed to have this decision be completely her own, without him affecting her thinking. _It is, meluieg. The time is not yet at hand, for your body to conceive. You will bleed again, quite probably tomorrow, and then I would guess you have another two weeks before your time of fertility, give or take. You have a while, in which to be certain of your heart. But I will not ask again; should your feelings change, you must tell me._

His answers brought more questions that she wondered if she should ask... _but if I cannot talk to him, who can I talk to?...Thranduil, you speak as though you can wave a wand and this will be accomplished with ease. I do not doubt your abilities but...this is outside my experience. Humans do not ordinarily get to know when such efforts will have success._

He tilted his head. _I suppose then it is different_ , he mused. _You would...wish to know, when it is time?_

 _If it would not offend somehow; it would be a rare privilege. Humans do not often know with any certainty which act of love creates a child. Baby. Can I use that word? I know that you say 'elfling' yet this child will be both and neither._

 _It would not offend. Our child will be most correctly called 'peredhel' but I do not intend to cause a fuss over terminology. And Earlene, do you have a desire for one gender more than another?_

 _You can do that?_ she asked in disbelief.

 _Yes, I can. Or I can do nothing at all, and leave it to chance._

 _I would have to think about this….but right now, I do not believe I have a preference. If you do, I certainly hope you will choose. While I am grateful for both your promise and your concessions, this is your child too._

Turning in his arms, she reached to kiss him. The conversation had ignited a primal fervor within her that took them swiftly to her bed, where she allowed herself to imagine what would take place so soon. Happiness and desire settled over her in a way that had seemed missing, lately. As she moaned with pleasure under his steady thrusts, amidst all the recent uncertainty she knew that she wanted him, and she wanted this.


	32. Chapter 32

[Nerd Note: in previous chapters the word fëa was used to indicate the spirit component of an elf or human. Unfortunately, it finally came to my attention that this word is Quenyan. Oops. The Sindarin word is fae, and will be used henceforth. It is both singular and plural in this form.]

Earlene and Thanadir gazed on the results of their shared construction project with obvious satisfaction. It was a conflation of what Earlene recalled her Gran doing for this, and Thanadir's gift for rendering anything to which he set his mind into something attractive and well-engineered. Fifty-five little puffballs on legs scuttled around inside; after weeks of hinting and some cajoling, Thranduil had finally agreed that trying out the keeping of a limited number of fowl would make both culinary and economic sense. Earlene had talked to the seneschal for hours already, disgorging everything she knew about the care and keeping of chickens, and Thanadir was fascinated to watch both their antics and their rapid growth. Right now they were inside the barn, and further protected from drafts of cold air in the confines a special pen made of fabric, stakes and twine. Heat lamps, water, food, and some of the sawdust readily available from thousands of years of work in the woodcrafter's chambers rounded out the setup of their chick pen. The project had, if nothing else, justified Earlene's insistence on routing electricity to the old barn prior to her arrival; otherwise a morass of extension cords running to the house would have been the only means.

Thanadir's head had been filled with words like "wattles" and "gizzard" as he had been shown on the computer how their bodies were constructed, and what would be expected for their growth...and how less than a year from how, four dozen eggs a day to supplement the needs of the Halls would be easily achieved. She hoped to convince Thranduil to double their number, but also did not blame him for wishing to tread cautiously with livestock. Because she had been allowed to choose, she'd selected a mashup of breeds that would be visually charming with appealing personalities; no bitchy White Leghorns or Araucanas were going to infest her yard when she could have the likes of mellow and friendly Buff Orpingtons and Jersey Giants. A gentle laugh from the seneschal occurred as he watched the mostly tan and black chicks run around madly in play, but then stop and fall asleep where they stood in sudden exhaustion. His observations were interrupted, however, and he raised his head. "I am to bring you to the Halls, Earlene; our King wishes it."

Earlene smiled and nodded, accepting his arm as she took one last look at the enchanting baby birds. It was difficult to leave them, because chicks were as a general rule more entertaining than TV. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she turned her thoughts to their destination. In all likelihood, today would be the day. It still felt completely odd, this idea of going to her husband now because it was time to conceive; if anyone else ever quite went about it this way, it was news to her. He had told her two weeks ago that she would have about this much time to reconsider, and she'd tested her heart by doing a great deal of reading. It had occurred to her that if nothing else, she should be doing her best to educate herself on that for which she was asking and...nothing she'd read changed her mind or her desire. The lengths to which some couples went to become pregnant were both humbling and amazing...and not in a good way; she'd simply had no idea that people ever had to bother too much beyond having sex unless there were serious fertility issues present. That some women tracked every day of their cycles, recorded their body temperatures and ran home to have scheduled liaisons at just the right day and time boggled her mind. How Thranduil knew, how he could control all of the things he seemed to be able to control; she wanted to ask and yet she didn't. That it fell into the category she would call "elven magic" was obvious enough. And beyond that, what good did it do her to ask questions when she had no hope of understanding the answers? Two days prior he had smiled, and told her not to be surprised if at some random time of day she was summoned to him for the fulfillment of his promise to her.

Earlene parted ways with Thanadir at the Gates, grateful that she could continue to their rooms on her own. This was one occasion on which she did not really wish to feel "handed off." Entering and quietly closing the door behind her, she already felt warmth emanating through the rooms via the fireplace, which must have been lit for some time. _That was considerate,_ she mused. _At least feeling cold will not be an issue for me._

"No, it will not be, meluieg." Her husband met her at the doorway to their bedchamber, wearing only a robe. She walked to embrace him, feeling excited and a little nervous. Pushing her gently away to hold her at arm's length he regarded her, and she knew that look. True to his word he had not asked her to re-state her wishes or inquired whether she was certain of her decision. This was appreciated; too often she'd heard of women being endlessly questioned over these kinds of choices, made to feel as though they must justify their wants one way or another. Yet she also knew that he desired to hear it spoken aloud, one more time.

"I will save you the trouble of wondering," she said softly to him. "I am as sure as I am able to be, that this is what I want."

He nodded, a radiant smile appearing on his face. "I have said little because I felt it was important, very important, not to sway you with my own thoughts and feelings. But I believe I have fulfilled that obligation and can now tell you how much I have hoped for this, and how greatly I have desired it. I too want this blessing, more than you can know, Earlene."

Her lips parted. "Then you have hidden your feelings very well...and here I feared that you were doing me a one-sided favor."

"No," he breathed, his voice growing husky with desire. "I acted as I did because I knew the degree to which you would wish to give me what I wanted. I could not in good conscience ask this of you without feeling a conviction that you wanted the same thing. Not for me, but for yourself. You have already given up everything, for me. Given everything, to me. I could not ask this too, unless it was truly your heart's desire."

Earlene nodded, loving him even more. That he would show this kind of regard for her warmed her heart. Gentle hands began to loosen the ties on her dress, until it slid off of her; even as the sash on his robe loosened and the fabric fell open to reveal his arousal.

"Is there anything...unusual about this? Do I need to do anything different?" It was the dumbest sounding question ever but, how was she supposed to know? Her frame already trembled lightly at the touch of his hands; he stood behind her. One hand caressed her breast while the other cupped over her womb suggestively after traveling down her belly before slipping off her undergarment.

With soft laughter he swept her into his arms. "Not to my way of thinking. We will be occupied for some time, though. I did not think you would mind, that I would wish this to be a memorable experience for both of us. Do you understand, that this does not happen right away after my seed is given to you?"

"I doubt that I know as much about it as you do but yes, I am aware that insemination does not equal immediate conception, if that is what you are asking. I know that sperm have some, ah, swimming to do."

 _Yes_ , she heard as he claimed her mouth, _but as with any pursuit of victory, it does no harm to ensure that all available forces are committed to the cause._

He entered her easily as she giggled at his analogy, lifting her body onto his, so well had her thoughts and anticipation prepared her for him. Moments later she was laid on his bed, enjoying both his attentions and the sight of his beauty as he took her with vigor. And his lovemaking did seem different, to her. As he neared his climax, she was not yet close to her own. She wished to move her body against his but instead her hips were caught in his hands, locked into immobility as he raised himself onto his knees while pulling her pelvis up onto his lap. As the expression on his face spoke of impending bliss, his light increased. Not so brightly as she knew it could, but with an unmistakable radiance. His eyes opened at the last moment to meet hers as he called her name. "Earlene!" came from him in a gasp, even as she felt his emission filling her. The beauty of him in his ecstasy caused her to forget her own need completely; it was a sight etched into her memory. She reached to touch his hand that held onto her. He did not release her body from his grasp, but moved his fingers over hers as he gazed on her with adoration, recovering himself.

With a grin announcing that his intentions were far from completed, the lubricant she'd purchased for his aur en onnad appeared in his hand, and was drizzled over her center of pleasure. He withdrew only slightly from her body, while leaning forward to place the silky liquid on her breasts as well. While he had caressed her bosom many times, it had never felt quite like this. The sensation of his sliding hands moving over her sensitive nipples... _oh, my_ , and a noise of dismay escaped her when he stopped to return his attention to her unsatisfied loins. The touches were soft and electric, as his fingers deftly slid over her nub, causing her to wonder why she had not ordered a case of this stuff the day after she'd learned he was real. He chuckled. "If I appreciated the enjoyments your purchase gave to me, I could do no less in learning how it might give you the same, meluieg."

 _I have no complaints_ , was all she could manage to think. With his member still buried mostly inside of her and his fingers increasing her heat, he slowly brought her to the edge, with tiny rocking movements that teased but would not bring satisfaction. Finally, she reached desperation. _Please_ , she begged as she tried to move against him but was prevented. _Please, let me finish_. With eyes full of love, he relented, as the fingers of one hand caressed her to completion while the other covered her womb, delicately palpating her there while each contraction rippled through her loins. When at last she subsided, he laid her back down as they were when he had begun.

"Do you want to tell me what all that was about?" she asked weakly, lost in a haze of euphoric feelings.

He laughed with joy. "It helps, if your climax occurs when a pool of my seed surrounds the entrance to your womb. You might say I was ensuring swifter results. But I am far from done with you, meluieg."

 _What a pity_ , she thought, still half-insensible. The next hours were unfettered pleasure. Long massages, positions he had not previously shared, and the many times he released himself into her. The only similar experience she'd had with him was the long night in which he'd made love to her, binding her decidedly to him, and that event already felt like a lifetime ago. Though she still perceived this element of their lovemaking, it had grown so subtle over time that she had to pay very careful attention now, to notice. Which made a form of sense; she was now deeply entwined with his spirit in a manner that had more depth and complexity than when their bond was brand new. At times he would pause, looking at her carefully, placing his hand over her womb. If she hadn't known where the organ was located within her before, she certainly did now. _Had it ever been felt from without quite so much?_ She doubted it. And then he would smile, begin with gentle kisses, and claim her body anew.

It felt like hours had already passed by, yet he was again causing both of them to groan with lust. They strained against each other, their bodies colliding until with a near shout his orgasm triggered hers. This time he had held her up onto his lap, so that she straddled him as her cries of fulfillment were muffled by his devouring lips. When she was able to flop back on the bed, she wondered if anyone had ever passed out from having had too many climaxes in a limited period of time. Her growing tiredness was eclipsed only by her hunger for food. Her stomach obviously felt that her next meal was overdue. She opened her eyes after catching her breath to see Thranduil studying her carefully once again. A humorous comment was on the tip of her tongue when precipitously she felt an isolated, strange lurching sensation. It was frightening; a little bit like when one dreamed of falling, only to wake in a panic...but it was gone just as swiftly as it had arrived. Her husband saw this, and looked at her again while his face transformed with an expression of purest joy. "Earlene, meluieg," he cried, as he lifted her and covered her face in soft kisses.

Stunned and a little disoriented, she connected her sensation with his reaction. "That feeling, that was…?"

"Yes. You have just conceived, my beautiful wife." His eyes filled with tears of gratitude and she hardly knew what to say.

"I have never heard of that...experience...happening. What was it?" she asked softly, holding onto him.

He answered with reassurance, and some contrition. "Some of your fae tore away, and joined with mine to create the fae for this new life. It is the way with elves. Earlene, you will likely have to forgive me many things. I do not know, what about childbearing is common to my race and not to yours. I will not have the awareness, of every aspect of what you will be able to expect; I can only guide you through each little event as it arises."

"I trust you with my life, Thranduil. I am yours. Thank you, thank you for what you have given me. It is so hard to believe….me, a child…" her eyes were shining with happiness as she rose up on her knees to hold him tightly.

"I think it is time we made ourselves presentable, as I know you wish for food and probably will equally wish for Thanadir to not see us as we presently are."

Earlene giggled happily and nodded as she was lifted off the bed and into his arms as he marched toward their bathing room. She had not thought about it during their passion, but they were both oily and sticky from the sum of their activities. Even here, he made a sensual production of washing her, pulling one last climax from her with the clever use of his mouth as she lay at the edge of the pool. Not to be outdone, she demanded the same of him. "I thought you were hungry," he gasped as she sucked on him hard.

 _I am. This surprises you? You know how much I like sweets._

"True," he shuddered, as he burst into her mouth.

 _But you must promise me mercy for the rest of the day; I am mortal and if experience pleasure again I fear I will be rendered unconscious, and then I would be unable to reflect on our joy._

"I promise, meluieg," he said, as he weakly took a wooden bowl to rinse the last of the suds off of her. For all his stamina, even he was feeling close to spent. They somehow dried themselves, staggered out, and reassembled their clothing. Seated together on the sofa by the fire, Earlene rested, radiating happiness but visibly tired.

The gears roared to life as she began to think of more questions. "How does this work? I mean, is it customary to tell others right away? It is usual for humans to wait a while, but that is often out of fear that something will happen to the pregnancy. No one wants to say anything too soon and then have a miscarriage."

"That will not happen to you. And meluieg, all of the elves will know the moment they see you. Your fae has changed, with the new life inside of you. Though if you wish to wait to tell the humans, I will respect this."

"Wait," she said. "You mean to tell me that Thanadir will just look at me, and know that there is a bun in the oven? Really? You can't be serious….even though I know you probably are," she sighed.

He laughed. "There will not be long to wait, as he is on his way with food. And I promise you, he was not told of our plans nor was he aware of the purpose of this afternoon's time alone with you."

"I don't mind. Second only to you, I am closer to Thanadir than anyone. I would want him to share our joy. That is, if this is not adding to his burdens," she quipped. It was still a little bit hard at fleeting moments, to let go of her fears that she made work for the poor elf.

"Meluieg, you must not say that to him, not even in jest," Thranduil spoke, with all earnestness in his voice. "If I know Thanadir, this will mean the world to him, and he will not appreciate any insinuation that he would find a child of ours to be troublesome. He adored Legolas... _adored_."

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I would do anything, not to offend him or hurt his feelings. Thank you for telling me."

"I know that you did not realize, and I understand that this is your sense of humor," he said kindly. Just then, they both heard the clinking of tableware in the outer room.

"Well, here goes," said Earlene, smiling. She went to the doorway, and made sure that nothing fragile or heavy was in the seneschal's hands before walking a few steps closer to him. "Hello, Thanadir, i Hîr nin" she said softly.

"Hello, Hiril vuin," the seneschal said with a smile, not looking at her.

She tried again. "My King tells me that there is something you will like very much, but I think you have to look at me first."

"Very well, Hiril vuin," he said with an indulgent smile as he straightened up and then turned his attention to her.

Earlene was not at all prepared for what happened next. The sporks and knives that he held in his hand clattered noisily onto the dishes, as his lips parted in astonishment. He ran to her and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her to him. "Galu!" he exclaimed with a half sob, as his eyes filled with tears of joy. "How I hoped for this!" he said in a voice that broke with emotion.

Thranduil came to his side and placed his hand on Thanadir's shoulder. "Share in our joy, my faithful friend." He raised him back to his feet, and held his shoulders as he looked from his King to Earlene and back again, with his gaze finally resting on Earlene in beatific elation.

Earlene reached to hug Thanadir once again. "Hîr vuin, I am blessed to have you at my side, to help and love our child. To know you feel so much joy adds to my happiness." Thranduil adjusted his hold to embrace both of them, his heart filled to overflowing.

"There is one thing, my friend," said Thranduil. "We have decided that for now, we will keep the knowledge of this joy to our sworn people. There will be a time, soon enough, to tell our close human friends, but it is not just yet."

"You have my obedience," the ancient elf said softly, rejoicing too much to care.

For the next few days, Thanadir's indulgence toward Earlene during what was ordinarily their time spent as teacher and pupil reached record heights. He was suddenly less demanding in every aspect of his tutelage, and instead allowed her pursuits like time in the garden weeding the seedlings, or watching the chicks. They even viewed video footage and documentaries about New York City, for his learning. Sometimes Thranduil was able to join them for these. And always, she would catch the seneschal looking at her and smiling. At first it seemed odd, but as everything else he did was charming in her eyes, this became no exception. So it surprised her, when she walked toward him to present him with a mug of tea, and a very different look came over his features. His eyes widened again as he whispered, "gwanûn."

"I do not know that word," Earlene said. "What is gwanûn?"

Thranduil looked at her as well, his own face taking on the same expression. "Meluieg, would you sit between us, and lean back into Thanadir's arms please?"

Baffled but compliant, she did as she was asked, only mildly chagrined when she felt her legs lifted over the King's lap and her husband's hand laid over her womb. _I'd better get over any lingering modesty issues_ , she thought. _From everything I have read, there is little that won't be seen or touched by the end of this experience._

Thranduil laughed both at her mental comment and for happiness.

"Will someone either supply a translation or let me up to get my dictionary?" she asked, mildly annoyed.

"You tell her, Thanadir," Thranduil said. "Your sharp eyes were the first to see."

"Gwanûn are twins, Earlene. You are carrying more than one child."

"Ohhhh," was all she could manage as she tried to digest this, blinking. "Well, let's get it all out in the open. Are they fraternal twins?"

"No, meluieg. That would have happened on the day of your conception. Thanadir sees two new fae where only one was before. They are going to be identical."

"And their sex? I did not ask, and you did not tell me if you made a choice."

Thranduil looked down at her, smiling. "I did choose.

Anírnen iell," he said. _I wanted a daughter._

"Well, it looks like your order was doubled at the checkout counter," she deadpanned, before adding with greater seriousness and a twinge of envy, "I wish I could see what you see. But it is enough, to receive your blessings. I hope they like each other," she said wistfully. "All of them."

Thanadir raised an eyebrow, but said nothing further, and the King sighed. "Thanadir, I believe it is time that you be included in another confidence. That is, if Earlene will allow it."

Her head nodded. "I am relying on you for so much of this, Thranduil...this is your decision. I do not object at all...but perhaps you would please tell him. I do not want to ruin my present happiness by speaking of my brother. Tell him, please. Tell him all of it."

The better part of an hour later, with Earlene still held in the comfort of Thanadir's arms, the entire tale of Aidan was told, and the old elf was nearly speechless. "Three young ones?!" he both asked and exclaimed.

"We cannot be certain until many other things transpire, my friend. But much the same as we are doing, you should prepare yourself for the possibility. More will be known when we have met with Earlene's brother, and seen the child. This is also why we are, for now, deciding not to speak of our joy to Lorna or Ratiri. Our Lorna suffered much grief once, from the loss of her unborn child. We would like her to learn of these developments in a manner that will bring her joy as well, and not add to her heartaches."

"As you wish, Thranduil," said Thanadir, beaming with contentment. Earlene felt herself squeezed like a doll and kissed on top of her head, and giggled. They were all in such good spirits, and she hoped it never ended.

Lorna had returned to Baile, and her cottage, and her pub, though she was mainly training her replacement - not in mixing drinks, which he'd learned quite well already, but in how to handle the often unruly late crowd. She'd put the fear of Lorna in all of them years ago, and she let it be known that if anyone gave Andy a hard time, they'd answer to her.

She'd taken Ratiri on long walks in the woods behind her cottage, and had started putting in a great deal of work on the cottage itself. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it also needed a lot of work. The walls were built of river-rock, the floor hand-laid hardwood save for the kitchen, which was tiled with stone chipped and shaped by her great-grandfather. The kitchen cabinets were oak, but like the floor, they were in bad need of sanding and refinishing.

The wood stove stood on the border between kitchen and lounge, where it could best heat the house. It was still perfectly good, and probably better-made than anything you could get nowadays. Still, it needed a good furniture was all Gran's, most of it from 1945 - built to last, but it needed new upholstery, and she found a man in Dublin who'd do it with actual vintage fabric. She ordered herself a new mattress, a memory-foam, king-sized monster that took up much of her bedroom; she'd have that expanded on sometime this summer, along with the bathroom. Nothing in the human world was going to be as amazing as Thranduil's tub, but that didn't mean she couldn't upgrade to something much better than the closet-shower she had.

Ratiri insisted on helping her, and together they sanded and refinished the hardwood floors - beautiful things, laid down originally with the cottage. They did the same to the kitchen table and all the cabinets, the fumes occasionally driving them outside even with all the fans they'd set up.

Yes, she could probably afford to have all the work hired out, but Gran wouldn't have liked it, and really, there was no point. Basic work Lorna could do herself; it was things like construction and wiring that she didn't dare mess about with. And it gave her time to spend with Ratiri outside the pub, outside the elves - just two people, hard at work, sweating and occasionally swearing in tandem. For a doctor, he had a pretty impressive repertoire of curses - but then, as he pointed out, he'd done his residency in Glasgow, and been called all manner of things by the drunks arriving in A&E.

A week into it, they took a day off, because she'd found the perfect Charger: 1966, red once upon a time, though the paint now looked much the same hue as a tomato, so the Tomato it was christened. It wasn't nearly so much of a lemon as the van, either; she didn't feel she had to be nervous it would fall apart on the way back to Baile. After an oil change and some basic cleanup, she took Ratiri to Dublin with her to pick up her passport, and some of the cash Shane had managed to produce from those gems - he hadn't sold many yet, but he had ten grand waiting for her. Earlene would have to deposit it, somehow; Lorna didn't actually know what bank she used, or if she'd even want to deposit something that big in one lump sum to begin with. God knew it would be safe enough with the elves, until she did decide what she wanted to do with it.

"Does it make you nervous, carrying that kind of cash?" Ratiri asked, eying the envelope on her lap.

"You've no idea," Lorna said, passing a whole line of eejits who apparently lodged their thumbs firmly up their arses when they got into a car. "I'm still not used to this bloody salary'v mine. What I get a month is over half what I used to bring in a year. What I'll do with it once the cottage is done, I've got no clue in hell. There's only so much a person needs. Admittedly my family tends to live forever, so I should put something by, but I can't imagine quitting work. I'd die'v boredom without something to do. At least Gran had all'v us to nag after."

Ratiri burst out laughing. "What was your gran like?"

"Me, but worse," Lorna said. "If you think I've got no filter...let's just say it's a good thing she didn't live to see the elves, because I know she'd grab Thanadir's arse. Maybe Thranduil's, too. She swore she grabbed Bono's, and given it was her, I'd believe it."

That set Ratiri off all over again. "I should have come to Ireland years ago," he said. "You have a lot in common with us Scots, and your weather isn't as miserable."

Lorna side-eyed him. "Your weather was worse than ours?"

"Colder," he said. "Just as damp, but colder." At least, it had seemed so; maybe perception played a part in the whole thing. He had people in Ireland, whereas in Scotland, he'd had no one. Maybe that made all the difference.

"I don't remember it being too awful, but I was also there in the summer," she said, pulling off at the exit toward Lasg'len. "Though you've not yet experienced an Irish winter. You want to talk about damp and miserable...good for business, though, if you run a pub, and there's not near so much drink-driving in a little village like Baile. Doc Barry gets most'v her business in winter from the eejits who think getting three inches'v snow's a great excuse to tie a sled to the back of someone's car and go tearing off down Main Street. Whoever stays on the longest wins."

Ratiri eyed her. "You've done that, haven't you?"

"...Maybe," she said, trying not to look shifty and failing utterly. "Though at least I've never broken any real bones doing it. Noses don't count." She laughed. "My first winter in Baile, Dai at the mechanic for some reason had just the hood of a VW Bug, so he somehow rigged it up on a rope behind his pickup. Siobhan and I were the only ones who dared ride the thing, so on we went, and off he went, and it all went good for a block or so. Damned gobshite must've forgot we were back there, because he hit his brakes, and the two'v us just kept on going. I was in front, so I somehow managed to break my nose, knock myself out, and smash my two front teeth. I spent Christmas Day high as a kite off the meds the emergency dentist in Dublin gave me when he put in the fake ones. Covered in bruises, too; surprisingly, slamming about on a big piece'v metal gives you bruises. Amazing, I know."

"Why can I imagine that all too clearly?" Ratiri asked, shaking his head; he was clearly trying to stifle his own laughter, and completely failed. "Though I don't really have any room to talk. During my gap year, a lot of us went and traveled through the States. Montana gets a lot of snow in the winter, so we decided to rent some snowmobiles and go riding about in negative thirty weather with Star Wars helmets. I was Boba Fett."

Now Lorna was the one who burst out laughing. On the surface, she had a very difficult time picturing that, but by now she knew he was such a nerd at heart that it wasn't really hard to imagine at all. "I hope nobody ran anybody else over."

"Two of my mates had a collision, but nothing serious. The damage to their wallets was worse."

Lorna shook her head, coasting down the hill to Lasg'len. Someday she'd explore where all the back roads along the way here actually went, but there was no time right now. For now she made her way through town, waving when she recognized someone - it was rather odd, that the villagers hadn't objected over her, an outsider, getting closer to the elves than any of them. Lasg'len was a small village; if someone had had something nasty to say, she'd have heard of it, and she wondered why nobody seemed to mind. Admittedly, they didn't know just how deep she - and Ratiri, as of recently - had been let in, but still. She would have expected some form of resentment...unless they didn't want the elves too close, and were happy to have an intermediary.

They pulled into Earlene's driveway, and Lorna leaned out the window. "Oi, I've got shite!" she called. "Not actual shite, but, y' know."

"Why can I picture you carrying a bag of feces in one hand and money in the other?" Ratiri asked, of no one in particular.

"Because you're starting to know me," she said, giving him a rather wicked grin.

"I do not see patients on either Wednesdays or Thursdays, nor the weekend, and could meet with you on any of those days during the week of your visit," Earlene read aloud. "Perhaps the earliest day would be best, in case something comes up? I'm certain you know of suitable places to meet in Manhattan; please choose a day and time. And if it is not too bold of me to ask, I noticed that you have been using the word 'we' in your emails, so I assume I will be meeting you and another?" Earlene read, heaving a huge sigh. _Yes, Aidan, you're a genius,_ she quipped to herself. Her fingers flew over the keyboard but then just as suddenly stopped. This meeting needed to not be rushed, and yet at the same time she did not desire to leave them susceptible to any potential vagaries. Each day and hour of this trip was precious in her eyes, and if her brother truly wanted this meeting, he would have to make an effort to see that it occurred on time and as planned, barring some major upheaval.

Glancing over at Thranduil, she shook her head lightly. Not so many weeks ago she would unhesitatingly have answered as she felt was best. But now...it was better that she asked for his input. Even though this was something that would occur on her terms, nothing about this endeavor could hope to succeed without his support. He was King, and the first right of directing what would occur belonged to him. "Do I respond to the lesser of these questions, and tell him of you, Thranduil?" she asked him softly. "On one hand, a part of me would love to not mention that I am wed and let him find out when he finds out. On the other, I have no interest in playing games in the manner in which I am almost certain he is indulging. And, what of Lorna and Thanadir? I cannot in good conscience float a baby past Lorna and expect her to manage the emotional surprise this meeting may bring with no chance to prepare herself, and nor can I in good conscience tell those two to wander Madison Avenue alone while you and I meet with Aidan." Her eyes did not leave him as she waited for his instructions...or the lack thereof.

He tilted his head, reflecting on her questions, and then stood up to sit next to her on the sofa, where he re-read the email. "Meluieg, tell him that you are traveling with friends and family on this visit who have never before seen America. It is all he needs to know. Were you to provide names or more information, there is a possibility he would attempt to investigate us in return. I see no reason to facilitate that. And I see too that it is your intention to meet him in a public place sheltered from the elements. I approve of this; it shows good judgement. Such surroundings will certainly not favor any displays of untoward behavior on his part. Wait to provide him with your cell phone number, though. Not until nearer the time of our arrival there."

Her fingers resumed their dance over the keys. "Aidan, we will meet you June 8th at 8:30am at The Atrium. 590 Madison Avenue. On this visit I will be traveling with family and friends that have not seen the States before so yes, I will not be alone. -Earlene" _Well that was suitably terse_ , she thought. _This is so...hard. Even after everything, I am still fighting to not to let myself hope for something that I know cannot happen. There will be no 'Lorna and Mairead Ending' to this encounter._

"Meluieg," he whispered, as he tenderly bent his head down and kissed her cheek. "I know that it is difficult for you to harden your heart, in spite of all that has happened. And whether or not I am your ruler, I still thank you for your trust. I will not allow you to falter, or to make yourself vulnerable to your brother. No one deserves your goodwill less, in my estimation. We must all keep in mind that what is being done, is being done solely for the welfare of your niece. Because neither of us wishes to leave an innocent child to be raised by such a parent, if it can be avoided."

 _He is right._ They would leave in three short weeks, and those weeks would fly by, no pun intended. As the days to her conception had approached, she'd taken stock of her mental and emotional reserves and made an unusual decision, for her. She had abandoned her original intention of planning every bit of this trip herself, and then elected to have Lorna be the one to see to many of the details, with the aid of a travel agent she'd used in the past. Earlene had helped and monitored; she'd disgorged much information on flights, pricing, classes of travel, airport experiences, hotels (the good, the bad, and the ugly), packages, and how to keep tabs on what a travel agent would suggest and try to book….and then how to create a folder and use the printer at the cottage to slowly begin organizing the information into a reference and an itinerary. If she was allegedly using her as a P.A., it would serve all of them well for Lorna to gain some experience and confidence with these sorts of things.

There had still been many details to manage. It wouldn't do, to go around the City wearing elven clothing, however wonderfully made. While it was charming, things that were different were things that attracted notice, and it was already going to be hard enough to sweep two very tall, attractive males under the figurative carpet. So they'd made trips to the thrift shops in both Lasg'len and Baile. Decent solid t shirts were easily found for Thanadir, and jeans that were broken in but not worn to the point of unsuitability. A pair of slacks each and an order of short-sleeve cotton shirts with some buttons at the neck took care of the informal-wear needs...along with the black cargo shorts. The shopping was straining her sensibilities, and Lorna helped with that, too. For everything they ordered, the agreement was that both women had to imagine the elves wearing the garment without either of them bursting into laughter...and it was a harder rule to abide by than anyone initially imagined.

To her dismay, Earlene found that she had to supplement her own clothing. Her closet held silk blouses and well-made, conservative attire. But she was returning to be a tourist at the end of springtime, not to spend a day at the climate-controlled office. In the midst of one of her shopping sessions, her email chime sounded at the same time she thought she heard an engine in the driveway. Her eyebrows raised at taking note of the sender, and her mouth fell open at the message contents.

Lorna and Ratiri exited the car, and she gave it a fond pat as she headed to the cottage. "You home?" she called, rapping on the door. She hadn't quite reached the point where she would just open in and stick her head in.

"Sure, come on in," Earlene said at a respectable volume. "You're not going to believe what just landed in my Inbox, you'll need something stiff in your tea for this one. We've been invited to a formal social occasion in Manhattan. My classmate apparently let this visit slip to another of my colleagues and life just got interesting. Jesus Christ," she huffed; this tossed a massive wrench into her travel wardrobe planning. For someone who wasn't religious, she was certainly invoking assorted deities quite a lot since she'd moved here. She considered saying _by Eru_ like the ellyn did, but somehow that didn't just yet fit into her vocabulary. Yet.

 _Because that wasn't terrifying._ Lorna set her money aside once she'd shut the door behind her, casting Ratiri a blatantly worried glance. "How formal are we talking?" she asked, already dreading it. Knowing where Earlene kept the whiskey, she busted out a bottle in advance, because the thought of attending a party full of lawyers and lawyer-type people sounded about as appealing as a root canal without anesthesia - at least, if she wanted to avoid doing anything that might embarrass Earlene.

"Erm, good question. But it's safe to say, given the host, that at the very least rented clothing would not be avoidable. Think of it as an episode of 'How the One Percent Lives.' Something like that. The question is if we want to bother. On one hand, I'd seriously rather not. But the flip side is, I've been outed, and unless I want to heavily singe some bridges that would be better left un-burnt, I'm not sure I have a great deal of choice. These things are not to be declined lightly," she said with a look of annoyance. "It would be on our last night there."

 _Oh brilliant._ "So, you know me, Earlene," she said, gathering a teacup for herself and Ratiri, who sat at the table. "You know that, even with my best intentions, I'm probably going to do or say something that'll embarrass you - provided any'v your mates can understand me to begin with. What in the name'v all hell would I even do, if I went with you to that? I mean, I could try to keep Thanadir out'v trouble, but I doubt he needs that much."

Ratiri could only be grateful he wasn't along for that ride. He'd had enough of formal occasions working at Great Ormond Street - a decent suit for a man his height did not come cheap, and after renting a tuxedo for his first wedding, he'd vowed to never do it again. Thanadir might fall at the very upper end of what a rental store would have in stock, but Ratiri was quite sure, thanks to experience, that Thranduil was going to have an issue.

"Well, it's open to discussion, as are most things I'd planned for us to do. But...seriously Lorna, if those people have a problem with me, my family, or people I'm close to, fuck them. I walked off from that life to do something else, and I'm proud to have you in my life and as my friend. I'm pretty sure we can all collectively keep each other from falling into the penthouse pool or something similarly ridiculous. And it would be good for a few of those pretentious bastards to have to slow down and listen carefully when someone talks, for a change. Personally, I think you'd enjoy it more than you might imagine. Just remember, for all their goddamn money they still shit once a day, however fancy their toilets are."

Ratiri choked on his tea, and Lorna burst out laughing. "Aaaand now I won't be able to not think that," she said, adding a healthy dollop of whiskey to her tea and Ratiri's. "I, y'know, appreciate it. Hearing that, I mean." She couldn't use her words, but Earlene knew that about her by now. "I will at least make certain I don't belch. Ratiri and I, we went shopping a bit ago - found stuff for me to wear on holiday that's not flannel."

"I couldn't keep her entirely away from plaids, but I tried," he put in. "And I think we entertained the other shoppers, at least a bit."

"I still maintain heels were invented by a sadist," Lorna grumbled. "Fortunately, I don't think they even make them in size child." Very fortunately, because nobody could ever ask her to wear them if none would fit. Earlene wouldn't, she was sure, but she was equally sure that Thranduil would, just to be a little shit. Sometimes, despite the fact that they were two very, very different people, he reminded her way too much of Pat. Her eldest brother had been, though the term probably hadn't existed at the time, a troll extraordinaire.

"You don't need them," Earlene quipped. "Besides, it isn't like we have to stay long. You show up, have a drink, I make the obligatory chitchat rounds, we eat insanely pretentious h'ors d'oeuvres that some caterer invented, admire the home, and after that our duty is fulfilled unless by some colossal accident a worthwhile conversation occurs. In fact, if our wonderfully talented seneschal can manage it, you and I might just be able to have something to wear to this out of the Halls, which would cut down on the annoyance of finding something once there. For the ellyn, I could send their measurements in advance to my tailor; they'd have loads of time to get a tuxedo altered." She of course declined to mention that this invitation was to a building in which the apartment in question cost easily over sixty million dollars and commanded a view of all Manhattan and Central Park. Lorna was doing well so far; it was best to ease her in slowly. "Ha, and here I've been spending all my time looking for good cargo shorts."

Ratiri tried to envision either elf in cargo shorts, and failed utterly. Even his vivid imagination just couldn't do it. For one thing, they both, as Lorna had confided in him, literally glowed in the dark; legs that white...not desirable.

"You have a tailor?" Lorna asked, though really, she wasn't surprised; Earlene had a job where you wore very nice suits every day. Even she knew that very nice suits didn't usually come off the rack - or if they did, they were altered until they fit just right. "That's handy as hell."

"Thranduil's definitely going to need significant alterations," Ratiri said. "Evidently, ideal height for a man is somewhere between five-eleven and six-two. Any taller than that and you are a freak for whom clothing is not designed. If Thranduil hasn't found that out yet, he will soon enough. I can loan him some things, if he needs any." They had roughly the same build, and Thranduil's clothes fit him decently enough that he was pretty sure it would work the other way, too.

Earlene laughed, her face breaking into a fond smile. "Ah, you're only saying that because you don't have Gino over at Baldwin Formals in the wings. He's this delightful older Italian gentleman that hides in the back and does all the most difficult alterations. There is nothing that man can't do. Nothing. I met him when he saved the day for one of my colleagues over some nameless function lost to memory. I made him chestnut cookies as a thank you, and he went over the moon; it was apparently something his nonna made for him in Italy and the rest was history. For obvious reasons I didn't have too much need for tuxedos, but unless something happened to my friend since the holidays, this will be the least of my worries."

"Lucky," Ratiri said. "When I got married, the tailor got it wrong, and I swear my tuxedo wanted to crawl up my arse. I spent the entire ceremony hoping the crotch wouldn't rip."

Now it was Lorna who choked on her tea, laughing so hard it nearly shot out her nose. "That," she said, coughing, "is why Liam got married in jeans."

"I was so happy to change," Ratiri said, shaking his head. "I wore the tuxedo for Dad's family, but I swapped it for Indian clothes for Mam's. A Hindu wedding is basically a week-long party, though I thought Katherine's mother and mine would come to blows that first day. Katherine's family weren't that pleased she'd married someone mixed-race."

"Wait, what?" Lorna asked. "Seriously? You're like a mother's wet dream." She paused. "That came out wrong."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," he said.

Earlene was having the worst time keeping her face from showing emotion. For a few seconds a valiant effort was made by biting the insides of both cheeks at the same time, but then it all fell apart. Her laughter was somehow kept silent but it was very obviously there, as she tried to work out in her mind exactly what a mother's wet dream added up to, while superimposed on a vivid image of Ratiri not being able to move in skin tight tuxedo trousers that probably left nothing to the imagination. And because this idiom likely originated with Lorna, she might not genuinely want to know.

Earlene's silent, carefully-controlled mirth only set Lorna off, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "It's a compliment," she wheezed, "somehow, I promise." Still giggling, she grabbed the bag of money and handed it to Earlene. "Shane's fenced some'v the gems," she said, struggling for a straight face and totally failing. "There's ten grand in there. I didn't know what else you might want me to do with it, and it won't be safer anywhere but here."

Ratiri, to his distress, was actually blushing a little, and prayed no one would notice. He busied himself with his teacup, the tips of his ears burning.

"Thanks," said Earlene, "and thanks too, to Shane," she added, hoping to give Ratiri enough time away from being the subject of anything having to do with wet dreams. "Every little bit helps, as they say." It was hard not to roll her eyes. _How did my life get this weird?_ she asked herself, and not for the last time. Time to change the subject. "Ratiri, you said you were reading all those Tolkien books. I wondered, when you're done with it, if I might have a crack at the Silmarillion if that's one of the ones you have? I'm a little overdue for taking a harder look at...all of that."

"I do," Ratiri said, silently grateful as he sipped his tea. "I can give you all of it, to go through when you've got time." Earlene seemed pretty damn busy, but she probably made time to read in the evenings, even if she didn't get much. "Though you might not have room for it all at once," he added, glancing around her cottage. Between the Lost Tales, the Unfinished Tales, and the various odds and ends he'd found on Amazon, her bookshelves didn't have enough space. There was a shocking amount out there, in bits and pieces - though Quendi and the Eldar was possibly the most disturbing. He'd thought Eöl and Aredhel's relationship was creepy enough in The Silmarillion, but in Quendi and the Eldar, it had been out-and-out rape. Not what he had expected from Elves, but there you were.

"You've plenty of time," she said reassuringly. "I'm just finishing _The Hobbit_ , and then comes the much larger one on my bookshelf that I'm sure you've already read. And I'll like as not have Thanadir to help me. Or rather, answer questions and read with me, I didn't mean to imply that he has to help me read. Er, not in English, anyway," she laughed at herself with self-deprecating humor, because there will still times her brain seized up when reading in Sindarin, and he most definitely did have to help her read. "I had to learn the language first but I seem to have cleared enough hurdles that I can now turn my attention to other pressing questions. Like, who are these elves I live with, and where did they come from?...it's the little things."

Ratiri laughed. "Understandable. I've been looking at the language myself, and I have to admit, it's giving me trouble."

"It's the damned alphabet," Lorna said. "It was invented by a god damn arsehole. Half the letters look the same." Knowing who had done it, and what else he'd done...no. God dammit, she was giving over and getting Thranduil to fix this fucking dyslexia, as soon as she could corner him. Provided, of course, he could actually do it. "The structure, at least from everything I can gather, isn't any more complex than Russian, it's just...different. If I was going at the language thinking it was fictional, I'd swear whoever did it made it so stupidly hard on purpose, just to make sure anyone who wanted to learn it had better really want to learn it."

Earlene tilted her head. "It's not like much else I knew, but then again I didn't know many. My favorite line from all of my learning of it is still the one that said a certain number of their grammar rules and things I found most difficult to learn are because the elves like their language to sound pretty...just...elves," she said with undue emphasis and a sigh.

Lorna cackled. Given all Thranduil had told her about why they dressed as they did, and made things as they did...yeah, it made sense. "I've got half a mind to shove Russian down their throats," she said. "I'd wager even Thanadir'd struggle with genitive and accusative case at first. I keep telling myself if I can learn Russian, I can damn well learn Sindarin, at least sort'v." Irish was different; yes, it was a crazy difficult language, but not if you'd grown up speaking it like she had.

"It was all I could do to master German as a child," Ratiri said, shaking his head. "If you can call it 'mastering'. I speak Hindi thanks to my mother, but it hardly counts if you were raised with it. It's nothing the same as learning it as an adult."

This was all well and good, but Earlene was no longer in love with talking about Sindarin as a general topic of conversation. If someone wanted to know that the plural of "firieth" was "firith" and that this was also the word for "autumn", well, that was grand. Nothing but the finer points of ludicrousness of her adopted tongue interested her, lately. With a small huff, she reflected on how the children inside of her would be fluent in it, with no effort whatsoever. Zero. She was about to become one of those immigrant parents whose kids spoke the native language better than they did. And with no accent. Shrugging to herself, she left off this set of musings and decided she felt mischievous enough to hunt larger quarry. Which is why her next audible question was, "So, do you two get to see each other very much, outside of our fair Elfland?" The gentle but definite smirk on her face left little doubt about her current attempts to be nosy.

That smirk, unfortunately, only made Ratiri's face burn, to his consternation. Lorna just laughed. "I've taken him out to see my own woods," she said, shooting him a grin, "even if they're nothing like yours, and he's been helping me fix up my cottage, since I've got the money to do it. Nice having somebody who doesn't need a ladder," she added fondly.

"I haven't had a chance to do much like that, since I moved to London," he said. "Dad was an amateur carpenter in his spare time, so it's been...nice." Nice for more reasons than one, but that, by this point, was implied. "And Lorna has attempted to teach me guitar, but I'm a fairly poor student."

"My guitar's just too small for your hands," she assured him. "It's no bloody wonder you can't do it - not when one'v your hands just about stretches across the whole body'v the thing."

Earlene grinned, pleased to know that their time together went far beyond coming here. Trying next to frame how she might get out to see Lorna's cottage sometime without looking like a party-crasher proved fruitless, because at that moment the ellyn were opening the back door. Anyone else might have managed to tread noisily on the steps of the small deck, but no such luck with elves. Oh well. "Did you miss us, or were you afraid we were buying you too many frightening clothes in your absence?" she teased.

"The latter, meluieg," Thranduil said without hesitation. "Having seen glimpses in your mind of this thing called a 'tuxedo,' I felt a need to make haste, for both our sakes. And Lorna, Ratiri, welcome once again," he said with a gesture of welcome. Thanadir did as Thanadir always did; softly tell their guests "hello" before plunking down next to Earlene and opening his laptop. Earlene smiled and shook her head; the seneschal's appetite for information far outweighed his interest in small talk. Her eyebrow raised to see that he was reading a detailed history of the five boroughs of New York. Doubtless he would have lessons to teach her, by the time of their departure.

"They're sufficiently alarming garments, or can be," Ratiri said. "I'll spare you any more of the nightmare of my experience than you've already seen, but if Earlene has a tailor, you'll be in good hands."

Lorna really wished Ratiri had pictures of this tuxedo fiasco. Preferably without the coat, because thought of him in skin-tight trousers and nothing else...sorry, Thranduil, she thought, unrepentant. It was not her fault Ratiri had an amazing arse. It just wasn't, and she was a heterosexual woman not otherwise drawn to anyone else - of course she was going to admire.

The Elvenking looked straight ahead over at the tea kettle. He so very badly wanted to defend the appearance of his own derrière, which Earlene found most lovely. But modesty and propriety dictated that he do no such thing. And yet... _I am certain that other, equally shapely rear extremities exist in this room, Lorna_ , he said acerbically. _I do not mind your observations in the least but you might give equal credit._

Lorna didn't quite make a face, but it was close. The thought reminded her starkly of her brother Pat, who had never lacked for girlfriends - if you could call them that; there wasn't much romance in his sixteen-year-old life, but plenty of girls. They no doubt thought he had a nice arse in jeans, but that didn't mean she wanted to think about it. _How about no,_ she sent back, only half aware of the depth of the connection she'd made. _Earlene doesn't give equal credit, I'm sure, so I won't, either._

Thranduil's eyes widened, because he had only dug himself a deeper hole. Earlene most certainly did admiringly notice the physical traits of others, but she was not attracted to them. Or as she would put it in her own thoughts, 'I am not blind.' And yet it was not his place to reveal that to Lorna or anyone else. There was only one reply open to him, however unsatisfying it would be: _I am not at liberty to comment. Regrettably._ Which was probably the same as giving away the answer, but still gave him technical absolution from guilt.

Okay, still...Earlene probably wasn't looking admiringly at anyone who reminded her of her brother. Thranduil and Pat had next to nothing tangible in common, but they could both be little shits with a very similar sense of humor. Somehow, through some odd, unobserved happenstance, Thranduil had managed to worm his way in with Pat and Mick, wherever the hell either were now. He was an ancient elvenking...who could be a every bit as much a little shit as either of her brothers. Even so. Just...uh-uh. The thought left her vaguely ill.

His sense of being miffed at having lost this small verbal sparring match rapidly fell away in the wake of this new set of thoughts from Lorna. That she had come to view him in this way...as a sort of family member, and not only as a friend, and with all her aversion to forming close bonds with others…it really was an unprecedented compliment and he was wise enough to see it as such. And to let this entire subject drop. _Mostly. I suppose_ , he smirked back at her, before entirely changing the topic by speaking aloud.

"Then I am to understand that we have had an addition to our plans while in New York?" he queried Earlene with humor.

"Yes," she replied, reaching out for him and hoping in her laziness that he might indulge her by sitting next to her. While she was sure that it was far, far too early to be playing the pregnancy card, the truth of the matter was that both ellyn had been spoiling her rotten and she was growing rather fond of it. Too fond, even by her own admission. Though, this was not a journey that brought idleness once the destination was reached; she reminded herself that the destination only meant that the the real work began. And with the very real possibility of having a different baby in her arms before her own arrived… _.yeah, I'll take the being spoiled while it lasts._

Once he had seated himself, she explained that the invitation was from the circle of her business associates, and without specifying it aloud let him understand that they were being invited to the home of one of the fabulously wealthy business magnates of the City. And that she could take it or leave it, but there would be some small consequences to her should they decline.

"I see," he sighed. "And because of its nature, special attire is required?"

"Yes. Though, it need not be complex at all. If Thanadir can provide me with your measurements, everything can be managed without difficulty. The clothing needed for you can be altered, rented, and delivered to our hotel room with no disruption to our schedule whatsoever. And...if you are willing, Thanadir (she now turned to the seneschal, who began to come out of his academic reverie), rather than Lorna and I renting gowns, I would consider it an honor to wear a dress from the Halls. I thought perhaps two somethings could be altered that would fit us? I could give you examples of the sorts of garments that would be appropriate?"

A look of profound happiness came over Thanadir's face, causing Earlene to wonder if she'd just unleashed a monster. He nodded eagerly, and when he realized that this was all that was being asked of him, he was soon immersed once again in his reading.

"Well that takes care of that, it would seem," she noted with a smile. "And since no one looks bad in a tuxedo that actually fits properly, I'm sure you both will appear admirably. I am sorry, Ratiri, I can't help but laugh at your predicament. Hopefully nothing else went wrong with your special day; no fallen cakes or mass food poisonings?" Earlene really did not know what was the matter with her today, she simply could not resist quizzing the poor man. He blushed to perfection even with his lovely, dark complexion and that he did it so easily was becoming too much fun.

Ratiri laughed. "Well, there were a few drunken fights out behind the building, but that's only to be expected in a Scottish wedding," he said. "If at least one person doesn't lamp one other person, it's considered a bad omen."

"We really do have more in common with the Scots than I'd thought," Lorna muttered, and genuinely wondered why the hell there had been so much animosity between the two peoples for so long. Maybe because they really were so similar. "I hope you got your money back on the tuxedo."

"Katherine...made a scene," he said, weirdly proud. He'd always been such a shy, reserved person, while she was the exact opposite: when she wanted something, she went out and got it - even if, in the case of her husband, she had to just about hit him over the head to make him realize she was interested. "It was beautiful. We got our money back and a free voucher for future tailoring." Yes, he had to admit, he had something of a type. Small, aggressive women really did it for him.

Thranduil sat and enjoyed the assorted thoughts playing through the human minds. They were so...interesting. Interesting for both their similarities and their differences. The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"All right, so what have we got to worry about in New York, Earlene?" Lorna asked. She hesitated to bring this up, but instinct drove her forward. "D'you think there's any real risk'v, you know, terrorism?" It was as delicately as she knew knew how to put it; asking if Earlene thought there was any chance somebody would blow somebody else up would be a bit not good.

Unnoticed by any but Thranduil, Thanadir's head immediately rose up from his reading; he was extremely interested in this answer.

Earlene laughed, surprised that her chest did not immediately feel a crushing weight at that question. She breathed easily, as she answered, still grateful for the miracle that had allowed her this. "Well, there is a risk of terrorism anywhere and everywhere; you probably already know that. But after 9/11, places that are likely to attract that kind of attention became heavily guarded; beyond that we just have to hope the people who get paid to stop those kinds of things are able to do their jobs. It is nearly as hard to get through security at the 9/11 Memorial as it is to get through the airport. Thranduil and Thanadir, that means that people are paid to inspect bags and purses for weapons, and police officers are nearby. Police are uniformed persons whose occupation it is to be sworn guardians of public safety; they are armed and authorized to take a variety of actions. On this trip we will pass through many machines designed to detect metal objects like knives or guns hidden in our clothing. And I also like to tell myself, the odds of being in something like 9/11 twice in one lifetime are a statistical impossibility, just because it makes me feel better.

It is the smaller kinds of crime, that are more realistic to worry about. We'll bring some cash with us each day, but most of it will stay in the safe in our hotel room. We'll rely on credit cards to pay for meals or buy things, just to not have to have too much cash on us. Never show money, jewelry, or anything that might be thought of as valuable and easy to grab in public. You organize all that somewhere else, out of sight. You keep wallets and such in front pockets, not back pockets. I have always carried pepper spray, and this trip will be no exception; some will be waiting for me on the other side of the pond because I can't have it here. If you want to gawk at the tall buildings or other sights, you gawk from a place where it is safe to do so. Thieves look for people that are out of their element, tourists wandering around staring at their maps looking lost or...whatever. No New Yorker does this. If someone panhandles, which means 'begs for money', you ignore them no matter what; they are often lying and sometimes dangerous. Thieves often work in pairs; one distracts you, while the other tries to steal your belongings. You don't go to certain places at night. You don't walk on certain streets late; you take a cab. It's really just common sense stuff like that. We aren't taking clothes that will mark us as wealthy. And just by virtue of there being four of us, with the ellyn so tall; that alone is a discouragement to a criminal. Actually, this is the biggest liability of all," she said, pointing to her necklace, "and I will dress so that it stays covered; it would be for the best."

Ratiri stared without meaning to. Twice in one lifetime...had Earlene been in New York for 9/11? If so, Lorna hadn't said a thing about it, which was somewhat surprising. Big Jamie had said she played her cards close to her chest, and he must have meant it. "Why wear the necklace at all?" he asked. "It would stand out like a beacon." Truthfully, he wondered why she wore it now; it had made sense with the lovely dress she'd had on the night he'd come to her cottage, but not so much with more casual clothes. She must really like it, but safety was safety, and that was one hell of a lot of ice in one place. Obviously Elf jewelry.

Pepper spray wasn't legal in Ireland, though Lorna had known a number who carried it anyway. Having seen what it did in person, she pitied whoever got in Earlene's way.

Earlene grinned. "Thranduil, perhaps you would prefer to answer Ratiri's question?"

The King was becoming more amused by the minute at learning all these assorted tidbits of human society and their rules. He nodded, placing his arm around his wife's shoulders, while tracing his fingers along the gems of the necklace. "The easiest way to explain is to say that you would likely call this a magical object. It is the Necklace of Lasgalen, and it confers my protection on my wife. Should someone lay their hands on her with harmful intent, they would be struck down; immediately incapacitated. Earlene always wears it because I have asked it of her, for her safety. And yes, Earlene witnessed the... 9/11."

"'Magic' is an explanation you'll hear a lot, so you'd best get used to it," Lorna said, secretly relieved Thranduil had said 'asked' and not 'ordered'. Ratiri didn't yet know them well enough realize what they had going wasn't the kind of skeevy thing you'd get if they'd both been human; he needed to learn more of them, or he was likely going to have the same knee-jerk reaction she did. Honestly, even she was still perturbed by the fact that Earlene couldn't ever take it off by herself, but she was getting past that. Ratiri needed more of a chance to take everything in before he found out details that he, at this point, would probably find unsavory.

"Magic?" Ratiri was absolutely delighted. If he'd actually seen any magical jewelry in the Halls, he hadn't known about it. He sobered swiftly enough, though. "I'm sorry. I know that must have been horrible, and that 'I'm sorry' is rather an empty platitude, but still."

Earlene smiled, and her eyes travelled over to her large framed photograph. For the first time since that disastrous day she'd hung it on the wall, she could really look at it and feel something other than shame over her actions. Thranduil's arm tightened around her in love, and reassurance. "More or less, New York is filled with resilient people. I think that how quickly that went up in place of what was destroyed, speaks volumes," she said as she tilted her head up at the depiction of One World Trade Center. "But, thank you. I can see that Lorna keeps her own counsel, so I'll tell you what I told her. All my friends were killed that day, Ratiri. Their picture is up there, on the shelf. Alika, Mary, Dina, Steve, Parshu, and Sara. All of them worked in the twin towers. Some weeks back I made an unfortunate comment to you for which I never apologized, about the limits of medicine. What Lorna obviously also didn't tell you was that my experience left me mentally scarred and beyond the help of doctors. Thranduil was the one to heal me from the damage I carried, and free me from a long and painful struggle. So yes, it was awful, but...life goes on, you know?" she shrugged and smiled.

Jesus...Ratiri rose, looking at the picture. To lose everyone - not just lose them, but watch them die...that was a horror he couldn't imagine. To have been there - it had been terrible enough when viewed on a telly screen; thought of witnessing it firsthand was beyond nightmarish. That she'd recovered enough to keep going all the years between then and meeting Thranduil - to keep lawyering on - was testament to a strength he would imagine few could boast. He himself didn't think he could have done it, in her place. "It does," he said, knowing it wasn't enough, but he was too wrapped up in this revelation to say more. "Thranduil, he explained that you'd had some negative experiences with the failures of modern medicine. I didn't realize…" He trailed off, his eyes flitting from face to face in the picture: all gone some fifteen years now, their lives cut short by hatred. Six people among thousands, and yet their worth was not diminished for having been among such a huge number. He doubted there had been a single casualty who hadn't been mourned by someone, whose loss hadn't scarred at least one heart. Earlene had found a peace he would suspect many still hadn't to this day.

Earlene studied the emotions that played across Ratiri's face, and without particularly considering her actions rose up to give him a hug. "It's OK. I know how much there was to take in when you first came to the Halls and there is never a good way to tell someone this about myself. I'm sorry, because I know it's shocking. I really don't mind talking about it, and I don't mind that people are curious." She backed away from his embrace when she finished talking and nodded to the photo of her friends. "To me, talking about it lets them live on. For all the shit I went through, I got to keep living. They didn't. I try to honor that, as best I can."

"It is, I think, the only thing you really can do," he said, picking up the somewhat odd object that sat before the photo: stone, granite of some sort, with twisted bits of melted metal woven around and partially through it. He knew that he couldn't actually feel what had happened to those near this piece of debris, but his mind called up far more than he wished it to. To keep such a memento...he supposed it was no different than keeping the ashes of a loved one, but as he cradled the thing in his palm, he would swear the pain and death and terror that must be soaked into it tried to seep into his brain. He turned it over in his hands before setting it aside. "To be remembered is the best thing the dead can ask of the living. Is that…?" He could only ask the question, pointing at it, once the thing was no longer in his hand.

Tilting her head at him, she inferred what he wished to know. "That is probably my most cherished possession. Or rather, it was; the gifts my husband has given me have somewhat nudged it into a lesser position. I don't know for certain, but it came from somewhere inside the zone of disaster. You have to realize that Manhattan was brought to a standstill, for days. Right after even the first tower collapsed, Lower Manhattan was...indescribable. It was a white-out from impenetrable clouds of dust, and debris. On the streets right near there you couldn't see, you couldn't breathe; I was lucky enough to be upwind of all of it though I was not really very far away. Hundreds of thousands of people were trying to leave Manhattan and were trapped; many people forget that it is an island. The roads gridlocked, and the subway stopped working. I couldn't go home for two days. My office was maybe a half-mile away; I worked on the twenty-fifth floor and had a direct line of sight to the towers. We stayed there, all of us; we had enough food and water to be okay. Later on, when the smoke and dust cleared enough and the cleanup began, I did what I could. We all did. I would get up early, and bake food to give to the firefighters and work crews. One day, I don't know, maybe it was a week after, I gave something to eat to a fireman in the early morning. He pulled that out of his turnout coat and put it in my hand. It summed up...everything. We were destroyed and yet something still continued on. Changed, and yet oddly beautiful." Her eyes took on a faraway look, as she became more enmeshed in her memories than she'd allowed herself to be for quite some time.

This was more than Lorna had heard, and more than she had expected Earlene to share. On the surface it seemed such a morbid thing, and yet she understood. To cling to some reminder, even of something awful - it was a reminder that you'd survived, that despite the horror, you went on. Damaged, maybe; changed, certainly, but you made it. Somehow. Out of all the death and horror...she'd actually had to go and look up the One World Trade Center, after her first talk with Earlene. What the hell was that bird - the phoenix? The one that rose from the ashes? "Will we go there?" she asked. "The memorial?" She felt a need to bring something, some...something. She couldn't imagine a worthy tribute; somehow, lighting a candle just wasn't anywhere near enough.

Would the elves have any concept at all of just what had happened? The still had so little knowledge of the outside world...but then, they'd be getting to the States on a plane. They'd have some idea what it would be like, smashing one of the things into a building. Lorna had watched the second tower get hit on the tv in the prison day room, unable to believe her eyes, because at first they'd thought it was some mistake, some colossal failure of instrumentation. To not see it as it happened, let alone firsthand...they weren't human, so how could they understand it? For all the horrors she had no doubt at all they had seen in their long lives, this was something else, something that was unfortunately massive, death on a scale surpassed by so few other events.

"I wonder if you can possibly be aware just how much strength that must have taken," Ratiri said, and meant it; quite often, it seemed, the strong didn't know just how strong they actually were.

Earlene smiled. It hadn't felt like strength at the time. It hadn't felt like anything, except the knowledge that she was alive and they were all dead. "I will go, and so can you if you want, Lorna. We all can. I used to go quite a lot. For me it's a graveyard, where my friends are. I go and leave flowers on my friends' names. It takes awhile, because they are scattered all around the pools. That photo on the wall, that's taken from inside the Memorial. It's a very nice place, now."

For the first time, Thranduil began to connect some very uncomfortable dots. He remembered what touching that object had done to him. And now he was to go to the place whence this came? Could he? He'd never told Earlene what had happened to him...and it fascinated him that Ratiri had been sensitive to it as well. Not to the degree that he had been, but still, for a mortal to perceive anything at all...he felt confused, uncertain. Thanadir, listening to her words, had not ever heard her speak of this. And he looked on her with different eyes, because this discussion was giving him insight into her experiences in a greater way than what had previously been possible.

That Earlene could speak of it so stunned Lorna, who wasn't sure she'd be able to regard such an event with even a tiny bit of equanimity. God knew she herself had avoided anything to do with Liam's death; she'd actively repressed it until she finally let Thranduil deal with it for her. She sure as hell hadn't ever gone back to the bridge railing; even driving over the damn thing made her twitch.

She glanced at Thranduil, and cursed her ability to read people. While he was very, very hard to read, he wasn't impossible, not for her - mainly because in some ways they really were very much alike, even if totally different in others. With his telepathy, was he going to be able to hack it? She knew he wouldn't want her to worry, but god damn it, she couldn't help it. This lot were family to her now, whether or not she was fully prepared to admit it to herself, and she looked after her family, to the best of her often limited ability. In this she could do nothing of any help, tangible or otherwise; she was only grateful Thanadir didn't share that curse unless he really tried. Earlene had made her peace; Lorna need not fear for her. Her almost pathological need to look after those she cared about had little need to buoy someone who had buoyed herself.

 _Yes, I'm worrying_ , she said, knowing she was probably irking Thranduil and not caring in the least. _Let me worry. It's what I do. You can read my bloody mind; you know it's how I care._ It was fucked-up and rather dysfunctional, but she'd never claimed to be stable or normal.

Thranduil looked over at her and smiled, with a surprising amount of serenity. _I do know. And I thank you_. Even he knew that there were times to set sarcasm and teasing aside, and this was assuredly one of them. His wife leaned into him, not particularly feeling any emotional consequence from this conversation. If the only thing he had ever done for her was to free her from the burden of this experience, he knew he had done much. And as the weeks had gone by, the sting of their misunderstanding over this terrible event was fading, for both of them. He kissed her head.

 _You're welcome_ , Lorna said, relieved that he wasn't annoyed, because she was going to do it regardless. She literally couldn't help it.

Sensing this little family probably could use some time alone, she said aloud, "Ratiri and I should probably head out; it's too nice a day to pass up."

Bless him, he picked up immediately. "There are still two dining-room chairs to deal with. If we manage to keep on like this, we'll have everything we can do ourselves done in a fortnight."

With encouragement for them to come back soon, Lorna and Ratiri made their departure, amidst the usual "good lucks." And as they were basically family, they had all begun to collectively no longer bother behaving so formally when comings and goings occurred. Earlene continued to sit between the two elves, trying to decide to pull her mind out of her current reminisces...or not. Thanadir was the first to speak. This conversation had shown him that to the humans, this event was on a par with the great battles of Beleriand in their collective thinking. And he felt he did not know nearly enough. "Earlene, would you tell me more? Show me more? I would like to understand better and...I do not."

"I would be happy to. Er, I will do this willingly, would be a better choice of words." Taking up the TV remote, she began finding photos and images to show him. But much to Thranduil's surprise, she began to tell a different story than the one explained to him. It was of the skyscrapers of the city, and how wealth and commerce had shaped the construction and skyline. This was a much larger tale than simply the destruction of which she had spoken, and she wove it into what she knew the seneschal had been reading about the history of the city. She let him understand through photographs just how much just Manhattan alone had transformed itself in what to an elf would be the blink of an eye, and how the twin towers had been a part of this. And how they had in some ways been a statement. They were completed five years before she was born...Thranduil listened, and learned. And then she showed film footage, different images than what he had seen initially, that told far more of her personal experience on that day and the days to follow.

When she finally was done speaking, she waited for Thanadir to ask questions, but instead her husband spoke. "Meluieg, the object Ratiri picked up. Do you remember what happened, the day you…" he hesitated to finish the sentence.

"The day I struck you," she said, smiling weakly. "I am slowly moving past my sense of shame."

"As am I, Earlene, but, do you remember what happened when I picked it up?"

She frowned, confused. "I remember picking it up, when you dropped it because you fell...something had happened to you, but I did not know what. I could not dare to ask you."

"What happened to me was that I touched it, Earlene. It carries memory, terrible memory."

She retrieved it. "This thing? This made you fall down like that? I do not understand. It is only a piece of stone, and metal, but you speak of it like it is kryptonite. It can harm you?" she asked, suddenly feeling like she should keep it away from him.

Thranduil began to reach for it again with a certain amount of trepidation, when Thanadir forcefully leaned over Earlene and arrested the motion of his hand. "Ú," (no) the seneschal said sharply, instead holding out his hand to Earlene with a look that did not exactly invite any defiance on her part.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked with trepidation, recalling how Thranduil had dropped to the floor. Her hand was still closed tightly around her memento, wondering if it was somehow the human equivalent of elven wine, except without any of the fun and laughter.

"Annathol han annin, Earlene." (You will give that to me, Earlene).

Her lips parted; she had never heard him speak to her so directly or with that tone of voice. She turned to the seneschal with her eyes lowered and opened her hand, having generally determined that while she would obey him, she would also knock him flat to take it away if that became necessary in her eyes. Unseen by her, Thranduil raised his eyebrows. A deeply buried and irresponsible part of him would very much like to see that happen. _Almost._

Thanadir grasped it without a second's hesitation, and gasped, his eyes widening a little. But it was not the relatively catastrophic reaction Earlene feared. He seemed affected by the thing but not...floored. Only after reflecting on it for a moment did he nod and extend it toward Thranduil, who still looked at it hesitantly. He did not relish being knocked back a second time, and yet it seemed important that he understand how visiting this place on their itinerary might affect him. Taking a deep breath he picked it up once again and in Earlene's estimation, had close to the same reaction Thanadir did. Was it that he was prepared for what he would find? Or had some kind of initial shock worn off? He felt distinctly uncomfortable, holding it, but...it was a discomfort that was managed easily enough; not the temporarily incapacitating reaction of the previous occasion. Rising, he returned it to its usual position on the shelf. "All is well," he said, convinced that the matter was settled.

Earlene stared straight ahead, trying to process the last few moments, making a mental note to herself that if this was Thanadir's reaction to the potential threat of an inanimate ball of debris, that she was going to have to be unusually cognizant of him on this trip...and with that came the sudden realization that many aspects of their time there might truly be not relaxing. Between Thanadir and Lorna, what would they be doing, anticipating an attack by everyone moving down the pavement (and the fire hydrants too, just for good measure?) _I don't need this. Can't anyone just goddamn trust me? Its my city, for crying in the mud_ , she fumed, before other thoughts added themselves to the mix.

 _Earlene just...stop_ , she told herself. _You don't actually know what he was thinking. You know he acts out of loyalty, and love. You are taking him three thousand miles from the only home he has known for longer than there have been...I don't know, bricks, and asking him to function in an environment completely alien to everything he knows. The poor elf doesn't even know what a shoe shine stand is. Just...let this one go, and chalk it up to Thanadir being Thanadir._ Sighing silently, she picked up her laptop and added another item to her list of things she would try to control even though it was technically impossible.

 _Meluieg_ , she heard. _Thanadir is old, but he is not older than bricks._

Her eyes squeezed shut. _I will keep that in mind, husband._


	33. Chapter 33

Were it any birthday but her fortieth, Lorna would have just skipped the day and had the party later. As it was, Baile would murder her, and Thranduil would doubtless find some way to make her life rather annoying. He really was too good at that, the little shit; if he ever somehow met Pat, she was doomed, and possibly the rest of the world along with her.

She at least put her foot down and said she absolutely had to be out of the pub by ten, so the lot of them would have a little time to sleep before they had to get on the plane. Well, the elves probably wouldn't need it, but she and Earlene would; they could nap the rest of the way. So far as she knew from her checking and double-checking, all their shite was good to go, right down to the huge, neon-pink bows she'd sewn to all their luggage. Yes, it was bright and obnoxious, but it was also very easy to spot amid a sea of probably identical baggage.

"You fuss like Gran," Mairead said, but there was approval in her voice. "I think you've got everything covered, so just relax and enjoy your birthday."

Lorna, seated at her kitchen table, snorted. "This is my job, Mairead," she said. "I don't want to muck up the first big thing I do right out the gate. I already had no idea just what traveling abroad entails - it's so much more than just getting a passport and throwing stuff in a suitcase." If not for Ratiri, she didn't think she could have managed it, and not just because she still couldn't spell worth a damn half the time. Thranduil killing the dyslexia had helped, but it wasn't a cure-all for the entirety of her reading and writing issues.

Ratiri also took care of any business that had to be conducted over the phone, since she had a realistic expectation of how poorly it would end if she did it herself. His accent was smooth, and he could mute it quite well; even the Americans they dealt with didn't have a problem with him. Lorna, on the other hand...yeah, no. She'd bought him a giant poster of a map of Middle-Earth off Amazon, one so big it would take up half the wall in an average bedroom, and had it laminated. Ever since, he'd been tracing out the journeys of various characters with Vis a Vis markers, because he was a complete nerd, and she adored him.

"Yeah, well, you only turn forty once," Mairead said. "Or as I called it, my first anniversary of turning twenty."

Lorna eyed her, and laughed before she could help it. "Of course you did. Fine. So long as Niamh leaves poor Cian alone. The lad's a shy one, and I'll not have anyone crowding him just because he's got Puss in Boots eyes." She'd already made that warning generally known, but with this crowd and his face, you never could be too careful.

Mairead shook her head. "You certainly do find the odd ones," she said. "At least they're the good sort'v odd."

You have no bloody idea, Lorna thought, rising. Maybe, if they got started early, she could get out a bit earlier, too, and just leave the rest of them to drink themselves silly. She herself made certain to eat a big sandwich first, because the less alcohol Thranduil had to magic out of her system, the better. She rather dreaded whatever he might have got or found or made her; if it didn't involve some sort of dress, she'd be very, very surprised.

She and Mairead headed out, walking through the pleasant evening. Ratiri had said he would meet them there, and keep an eye on Earlene and the Elves (and someday it would be a band, dammit, it just would) in case they arrived first.

* * *

Earlene sat in the back of Ratiri's sedan with Thanadir, holding his arm by long habit. She had seen twitches of Lorna-like traffic tendencies and although he was suppressing them marvelously, she remained unconvinced of his ultimate level of self-control. Attempting to distract herself, she organized her thoughts. At precisely one o'clock and one minute, she had already logged in to check all of them in for their flight, and printed boarding passes. Though it was hardly quite as necessary for business class but...it got them out of that hell known as the terminal a little sooner and was therefore worth it, in her estimation. So that was out of the way. The thought she wanted to chuck in the circular file, but could not seem to, was how in fuck were they going to an alcohol-fueled Irish party the night before leaving on this trip? Just, how? But she had to let it go. When Lorna finally had mentioned it to her she seemed to feel it was no great matter, and by then it was long past the time when rescheduling the date of departure would be an easy thing to manage. For her personally, one of the most difficult things in the world about other people was pretending that some aspect of their behavior hadn't perturbed her in the least, when it absolutely had. It wasn't like she didn't know why; when something mattered to her, she was an absolute control freak, and anything that threatened that perception of control was a negative. Whether it was or not; she was aware of her inclination and that this kind of outlook sat poorly with most other people (until they derived the benefit of precise planning and flawless execution, of course). Reality didn't breach the inclinations of introverts and hyper-planners. Let it go, she told herself forcefully. It's a special occasion, she's been there for you, so just...let it go.

Thanadir pulled away from her and quickly turned to grasp her hand, which caused her to laugh. In a moment of pure silliness some weeks back, she'd taught him about Thumb Wars...and found out that it was perhaps the one physical skill on this Earth for which she had more or less a chance to evenly match him. Certainly, he was stronger but he never pressed that advantage; her long and dexterous thumb was really not so much less able than his, and the old elf seemed to derive endless amusement from this. So, she indulged him. What she did not seem to have noticed, yet, was that he started this up mostly when she was stewing over something or other, or becoming distressed. Thranduil smiled from the front seat. His seneschal was clever. Very clever. One had to be, to outwit Earlene.

Watching an Elf indulge in a game of Thumb Wars was somehow not the oddest thing Ratiri had seen this last week, though it was fairly high up there. He had to wonder a little at Earlene and Thanadir's closeness, physical and otherwise; obviously it wasn't what it would look like if they were both humans, but he wasn't certain what it actually was. Tolkien had failed him there; in writing almost exclusively about the remarkable and noble, he'd left little to go on when it came to the second-tier and below, as it were. Ratiri was at least relatively sure that the duties of a seneschal didn't include sticking to the Queen like glue, but then again, what the hell did he actually know?

Thranduil chuckled. In this case, they do, Ratiri. You find what you see to be strange, by human standards; nor would they behave in this manner were you not considered part of our family; Earlene is aware of how other humans would feel at seeing their closeness. Thanadir does not only serve me in an administrative capacity; he has also watched over my family for these many long ages. He provided the same chivalrous care to my former wife, and my son. Elves and their mates cannot turn aside to others. The relationship between Thanadir and Earlene is one of chaste attachment; Earlene's well-being is Thanadir's concern. He would defend her with his life; he is guard and teacher, friend and caretaker. Their relationship has my approval and to some degree is at my insistence.

This was far more than Lorna had ever told him; Ratiri was still figuring just how closely she kept her own counsel, when it came to herself and other people. It wasn't something he could fault her for, either - he'd just have to start asking questions himself. I'd figured there wasn't, he said, you being Elves and all. It does look a bit odd to humans, but just because something so innocent is unlikely if it's two humans involved. He paused. Does Lorna let them touch her? Without flinching, I mean? Of late she'd been quite happy to touch him, but she still flinched slightly if he touched her without warning. Thranduil got away with it, so why couldn't he? What did he need to do, to cross that threshold? Every time she twitched, it cut him a little, because he could only imagine why she reacted that way in the first place.

Thranduil paused, trying to choose his answer in a way that would not add to the man's internal struggles. I have seen Lorna take Thanadir's arm, when it is offered. And I am struggling to think of when Earlene has ever attempted to touch Lorna. Earlene seems to only show affection to those she likes a great deal but she is also very observant of others' behavior; she is aware of Lorna's preferences and therefore does not even try. She would consider it to be vaguely rude, on some level. Regrettably I cannot say much more except...her behavior is not about you, Ratiri. It has nothing to do with you. Keep your spirits up, and be patient.

It was all Ratiri could do, and he knew it, but...her twitches were automatic, to the point that he wasn't sure she was even always aware of them. From what little he had gleaned, her father had been an abusive prick - hence why he was dead - and he couldn't help but wonder just what had happened in that household. How many times did a child need to be hit, before they shied away from any form of contact? He didn't know, and wasn't sure he wanted to.

But she was willing to touch him now, which was surely progress - she'd take his hand, or poke his shoulder, or stand on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair. He counted that as rather enormous progress, as did the others of Baile - most of them still hadn't managed that from her, even eleven years after her arrival.

He pulled off the motorway, internally shaking himself. He could be patient. He was a doctor; patience was what he did, but still. He wondered just what of Lorna's past Thranduil had seen in her mind, but he would never, ever ask.

The King smiled as they approached the party, with their wrapped presents in the back seat, grinning from ear to ear at his own gift. He'd not had too long to wait, to have his revenge for her Star Trek t-shirt. That, by the way, he fully intended to wear on this trip; he'd already sneaked it into their carefully itemized belongings when Earlene wasn't looking. He always liked to have the last word; he'd not been a ruler for thousands of years by allowing others to keep the upper hand. It would drive Lorna mad; though she had never been ruler of anything, she was much the same way.

Lorna watched Ratiri's SUV pull up out front of the pub with narrowed eyes. She didn't trust Thranduil as far as she could throw him - and given that that was practically impossible, that was really saying something. He'd as good as vowed revenge for his birthday gift, and she could only hope Earlene had managed to curb his inclinations.

She was already two drinks into the evening, enjoying a multitude of snacks and nibbles, enduring more than a few 'over the hill' jokes - fortunately, Ratiri hadn't said anything like that, but he'd already passed that threshold two years ago. And if she smiled as soon as she caught sight of him...well, nobody was willing to rib her over it.

"You didn't scare them to death with your driving?" she asked, when he entered the pub.

"I can drive entirely reasonably when I feel like it," he said, with feigned hauteur. "Or at least, when I need to."

"That's what I thought," she said, giving him a light poke in the side before looping him into a half-hug. "You'd never actually feel like driving like a gran if you didn't have to. Earlene, I've got everything packed, labeled, and good to go," she added, knowing her friend was probably gnashing her teeth on the inside.

Earlene smiled brilliantly and ignored the comment; Lorna shouldn't be having to worry about that on her birthday, even if she herself was. "Happy Birthday, Lorna," she said warmly. "Is there a gift pile?" she asked, hoping that Thanadir's present to her would not audibly 'clunk' or 'clink', though he had wrapped it well. Besides, if she was slightly eager to get her glass of Guinness to deflect notice from the fact that she was having only the faintest occasional sips of alcohol (under the insistent instruction of Thranduil, who assured her that no harm whatsoever could come to the children from such a little amount, especially under his care), could anyone blame her?

"Terrifyingly, yes," Lorna said, pointing to a table near the fireplace. The were a surprising number of...things on it, the wrap-jobs of various quality, some rather worryingly shaped (she was pretty sure one was an axe. A very, very large axe.)

Ratiri could only laugh. What he'd got for her actually hadn't been something he'd had to get at all; he'd inherited all his mother's jewelry, including her assortment of combs. Lorna's hair was every bit as long and thick, and Mam would want them to go to someone who would actually wear them, not leave them in a box to gather dust.

Guinness finally in hand, presents properly...presented, Earlene made her way back to Thranduil, whose sparkling blue eyes she now noticed had followed her around the room. She tried very hard not to think of what she'd like to do with him, just now, on seeing that gaze she knew so well. Right now, she felt very happy. And she was damn well going to enjoy it, because Eru only knew (yes, she'd actually started thinking this sometimes, in her head) what conundrums and messes this trip might throw her way. How she wished it were as simple as a few days of playing tourist...but it wasn't. And worrying about it won't make it happen any faster, she also reminded herself. Just like it hadn't gotten the ellyn's passports delivered any sooner (christ, that had been a relief when they'd arrived) or the gowns for this late, unexpected and socially lofty invitation altered any sooner. But it had all been done, and eventually, this will be too.

Slipping her arm around his waist, she felt the ripple of his muscles as he leaned down to whisper, "all will be well," reassuringly into her ear as she smiled. How could it not be, really? They waited patiently, and chatted quietly with Thanadir at the corner table they'd staked out, waiting for when the presents would be opened.

Big Jamie, never one to be inhospitable, brought a tray of jam rolls over to the pair, holding it in a vague toast to them and Cian before setting it down. "There's nibbles and more," he said. "This lot'll be ossified inside'v an hour, and Lorna was adamant you all be out'v here by ten. Which seems criminal for a fortieth birthday, but you've all got somewhere to be tomorrow." He still did not know just what to think of this little group - nor, precisely, while Fionn and Cian even made him look twice, and yet they did. That did not, however, mean he was about to be a poor host. "Can I get you anything else - drinks?"

"Thank you Jamie," said Earlene. "If it isn't trouble, perhaps we could have an order of fish and chips, stew and one of your lovely French dip sandwiches? We're off to Dublin tomorrow, and onward. It was a bit of bad timing, really; all our plans sort of washed up against Lorna's birthday. But fear not, we can keep celebrating. I intend to see that she ends up in another sort of Irish pub before the week's out." She had caught that Thanadir had looked around hopefully at other possible food options, already having made steady progress on some of the jelly rolls.

"Coming right up," Jamie laughed. "You'll have to come in and tell me if they get it right in the States. Any self-respecting pub that calls itself Irish ought to do it properly." He took the order to Michael, who was sweating as he cooked - Orla was busy beside him, harried but pleased. Large occasions were a lot of work, but they could also be a great deal of fun. Just so long as nothing got smashed.

Lorna eyed the staggeringly, stupidly large cake on a center table: apparently it was the combined effort of Mairead and Siobhan, and thankfully contained nothing resembling chocolate syrup (seriously, she could never eat that again. Ever. Thanks, Siobhan.) It did, however, have buttercream frosting and cherry filling, and she knew Thanadir would adore it, even if Thranduil would probably pass. She'd press Earlene into the biggest slice she could, because mmmm, cake.

"It was a bet between us," Mairead said, when she asked. "We had to see if we could." The 40 on the top wasn't made of candles, but of cookies, home-baked, each with a birthday candle at the center, actually standing up atop the thing. The frosting itself had been dyed black, with the obligatory 'over the hill' tombstone at one end.

"I'll push for cutting as soon as I can," Lorna said. "I'm sure Ratiri'd like another chance at one'v your cakes."

"I would. They're more addictive than crack." He wondered just what Thranduil made of the cake, of the general joking atmosphere. Humans marking their age in such a way must be really, really weird to him, especially since forty years was approximately half a breath to an Elf.

The food arrived swiftly, and after silently conferring with Thranduil, she nudged the fish and chips and stew in front of Thanadir. A slice with the knife later, she had the small section of sandwich she desired for herself, and she nudged the rest of that in front of the seneschal as well. Her husband apparently felt content to make do with "nibbles," which was such a charming term. She hadn't had the heart to tell Big Jaime that there was basically no hope that Irish pubs "did it right" in America, beyond serving the obligatory Guinness and usually decent shepherd's pies. Because, of course, they were really Irish American pubs. The oldest she could think of in Manhattan only hailed back to around 1870; it just wasn't the same. While her piece of sandwich was steadily devoured, she gazed around the room. Lorna looked happily rosy-cheeked with Ratiri hovering nearby, Mairead was gazing with satisfaction at the cake, Siobhan was good grief looking longingly at her husband, and Niamh was across the room heaving sighs at Thanadir. It was almost enough to make her spit her water laughing.

Are you feeling mischievous, meluieg? She heard.

Maaybe. Will the mischief create a public nuisance or embarrass Lorna?

Not what I have in mind. I think we both realize that the baker is staring rather too much at me; I thought you might appreciate a kiss.

You're awful. Do it.

She heard the low rumble of laughter when she turned to him and received a tasteful and yet clearly passionate kiss that was likely not noticed by anyone...who was not actually staring at them relentlessly. It lasted long enough and had enough smouldering gazes that their feelings for each other were abundantly clear.

And? asked Earlene.

I am not certain I should tell you, meluieg.

Is it worse than anything in Hedwig and the Angry Inch? Earlene looked on him with open amusement, resting her head against her hand, elbow bent and leaning on the table.

It is that...what she was thinking only about me, she is now thinking about you, too.

Well, as we are unable to invite her to join us, I suppose that leaves the whole thing rather at an impasse, does it not?

Thranduil nodded, not even daring to ask, and returned to his Guinness.

"Are you sure you've got to head out at ten?" Molly demanded of Lorna, ooching her way around the table to stand at the tiny woman's free side. "My gran'll be up later than that."

"We've got to get on a plane," Lorna reminded her. "If you've got too much'v a morning-after, you look like you've got...I don't know, cholera or something, and they'll not let you on. Or is cholera the one that makes you shit yourself to death?"

"It's one of several," Ratiri said, trying not to laugh, "though rare in Ireland these days, I should think, given that nobody now shits in their own water supply." He nudged the table of presents with one foot. "Open some of these," he said. "We'll have to get them sorted before we go anyway, unless you want your sister organizing the lot."

"Oh, God help me," Lorna groaned. She really did dread whatever Thranduil might have got her, though she was curious as to what Thanadir might have come up with. Earlene was sensible and human, but Thanadir...who knew. Not her, at least not yet. "All right, pass me something. If I get started, people'll just...wander on over."

Ratiri handed her his gift, totally unashamed to give it first. Lorna tore open the paper (leftover Christmas wrapping, because that was the only kind anyone ever had in Baile, unless they were feeling ambitious). In it was an old, beautifully finished wooden box, square and flat, carved with an intricate design she ran her fingers over before opening it.

Within lay three golden combs, equally as old as the box, if not more so. Clearly Indian in design, they had to have been his mother's: two were tear-drop-shaped, set with small red stones, while the third was a curve that looked like it had been inlaid with pearls, with several beads hanging off each end.

"Christ, Ratiri, these're lovely," she said, looking up at him. "Were they your mam's?"

"They were," he said. "Her mother gave them to her, when she got married."

There were many times Lorna cursed the fact that she so sucked at using her words, and this was certainly one of them. She had to settle for giving him a hug, and coiling the heavy fall of her hair up so that she could secure one of the combs into it. It was wildly out-of-place with her jeans and vest top, but she didn't care. She was taking at least one of these two New York, because she was damn well going to wear it to this fancy shindig.

Earlene shamelessly leveraged her ability to stand on top of Thranduil's feet to buy an extra two inches to see the gift opening clearly, held securely. Score, Ratiri, were her exact thoughts as she grinned at the combs. If her reluctant friend needed any further assurance of this man's intentions toward her, this should scream it about as loud as a tea kettle. Men didn't give their mother's jewelry to just anyone. Ever. Hopefully that notion will penetrate. Soon, before I lose patience with these two…

Mairead gifted Lorna their Gran's best china, to be used now that her cottage was complete (Lorna fully intended to have Earlene and the Elves out one evening for dinner; Ratiri was a far more accomplished cook than she was, and between them they could come up with a meal that was more than just edible). She'd already bought a chair he could sit in comfortably, so it wouldn't be much work to buy another. Thanadir was just enough shorter that the sofa ought to be comfortable enough. Big Jamie, not to be outdone, had bought her a beautiful set of wine glasses; Siobhan insisted her gift be opened in private, which, given that this was Siobhan, was a slightly alarming sign. If it didn't involve some type of lingerie and/or sex toy, Lorna would be very, very surprised.

She drank steadily as she opened her gifts, since there was no point letting free drinks go to waste, leaning ever more heavily against Ratiri as the evening wore on. He really did smell wonderful, she noted: a trace of sandalwood, some faint but pleasantly dark aftershave, and just plain clean man.

Ratiri, had he known what she was thinking, would have thought the same of her. Perhaps it was the Elf hair stuff she used, but Lorna smelled of lavender and fir, with just a trace of thunder, of a summer storm. He was not ashamed to admit - to himself, at least - that he had taken more than one surreptitious sniff of her hair. If Thranduil had found it creepy - and there was no way he hadn't noticed, being him - he hadn't said anything, so Ratiri felt free to creep away, so long as nobody else caught him.

Lorna eyed the gifts from Earlene and the Elves (Thanadir played an instrument; if Thranduil and Earlene didn't, she was damn well going to teach them, because they needed that band, dammit) with a little trepidation. She trusted Earlene and Thanadir, but Thranduil, as mentioned, was a little shit. He would not get her anything humiliating, but she was prepared for something rather...odd. (She wondered how many of his people, including Thanadir, would faint if they actually knew she thought of him as a Pat-worthy level of little shit.) It wasn't a bad thing, for all it could sound like it to anyone who didn't know her. Allowing someone to be a little shit without serious retaliation was, from her, a sign of affection.

Thranduil, by now, was deriving far more amusement at Lorna's trepidation. To his way of thinking, he'd already won this round between them, solely by causing her to worry so much about his gift. Which was not only perfectly suited to her, it was just a trifle. No jewels, nothing embarrassing. He grinned happily at her discomfiture.

Lorna narrowed her eyes, figuring she'd best get this over with. That grin meant nothing good and she knew it. The package was wrapped in fabric, unsurprisingly, bound with twine. She untied the bow somewhat gingerly, and laughed with relief at what she found: a T-shirt, patterned like one of her red-and-black flannel shirts. It was even on the large side, as she preferred to wear them.

Well-played, she sent him, holding it up for general inspection. Very well-played.

"Oh God," Mairead groaned. "More plaid. You have no sense of style, Lorna, unless Ratiri helps."

"Hush, you," Lorna said.

Unable to resist, Earlene had moved forward just long enough to push her and Thanadir's gifts at her, knowing they'd both be appreciated.

Thanadir's package - at least, she was assuming it was his, giving the wrapping - was so oddly shaped Lorna had to open it first. It proved to be a beautiful fireplace set - hand-forged, by the look of it, and as perfect as any elven-crafted thing she'd yet seen. It would have pride of place beside her woodstove.

"Jesus, where'd you get that?" Molly asked.

"It never does to ask them that," Lorna said. "You'll never get an answer." Hey, it was true.

Earlene's, unsurprisingly, was the most practical, especially given their upcoming trip: a leather messenger bag, big enough for her laptop and whatever other crap she could think to carry, without being overly huge for her. "You lot," she said, of course lost for words. Tell them both thank-you for me, will you? she asked Thranduil. "You'll be the death'v me."

Smiles came back to her from the elven contingent; especially Thanadir was obviously pleased at the appreciation bestowed on his gift, and Thranduil was still chuckling with a twinkle in his eye.

Lorna grew ever drunker, a new drink pressed into her hand every time the old was emptied, while she opened her very odd assortment of presents. It wasn't too long before it was cake time, into which she almost fell face-first when she blew out her candles.

"All right, you lot, eat this and we'll head out," she said, checking her phone and stumbling into Ratiri. They had a few minutes yet.

Earlene looked at her slice of cake with enthusiasm. Though she'd been careful to eat as well as she always did and then some, Thranduil had told her she need not worry to the point of avoiding everything devoid of nutritional merit. But as this was a Mairead cake, she felt not the least sorry that it was twice the size of the slices other people seemed to have. Shrugging, she scarfed it down...god, and cherry filling, too. Not the cheap shite full of cornstarch but the real deal; dried cherries soaked in some kind of alcohol (was that a hint of kirsch?) and then placed into a delicate custard of some kind. It was to die for, as was the buttercream. In spite of herself, though, she found that after three quarters of her slice she was locked in a struggle with it; she refused to waste a bite of it but was too full. After taking a breath before eating one more small forkful, there was a tap on her shoulder, and a smirking Thanadir looked at her with eyes full of hunger. Laughing, she relinquished her plate, and wondered where in hell he put it all.

The party was just getting going, but she noticed Ratiri prodding Lorna toward her good-byes, or good-lucks or whatever they were, and figured they likely should do the same. She quietly slipped Big Jamie enough for their food and drinks and a little extra when she thanked him for all they'd done for Lorna, and reassured him they would take good care of her in New York. "I promise you she'll have some stories to tell, I just can't yet say what they'll be," she grinned at him. This was Lorna they were talking about, after all.

"Try not to let her get arrested," Jamie said, only half joking. "We'll have cake for you lot, when you're back. You've been good to her, so you're a bit'v all right in our books."

Lorna meandered over, gave Jamie a drunken hug, and let Ratiri lead her out to the van. "We're off in the Mystery Machine!" she said, slurring a bit and fist-pumping the air.

"Good luck with her," Mairead said, rolling her eyes. "Fly safe, all'v you."

Earlene privately thought that flying safely had far more to do with Aer Lingus than with anything about them, but, that wasn't what friends and family wished to hear at times like this. So what came out was, "We will, don't worry. We'll be back before you know it." Ratiri had all of their contact and itinerary information to share with Mairead should an actual need arise, so Earlene didn't feel too guilty; they were both quite accessible for the duration of this trip; there was even wifi on the damn plane. They could all chitchat at thirty-three thousand feet for hours, if they wanted to.

Thranduil took one careful look at Lorna and quietly sighed as he cared for her circumstances before climbing into the back seat with Earlene between the two ellyn; she didn't mind. Lorna was firmly placed into the front passenger seat and belted in by him while he ignored her feeble and uncoordinated protests. Ratiri looked at him questioningly but thought better of asking what he was doing. Once they were headed down the road, the King's hand reached forward and grasped Lorna's shoulder firmly for several minutes while Ratiri watched with sidewise glances and a great deal of curiosity, as a muted but distinct soft glow played around the King's body. This had the aftereffect of transforming "complete ossification" to "extremely buzzed", which Thranduil hoped was a suitable compromise. He had no intention of leaving her in a state that might result in vomiting in his Halls. For good measure, he softly reminded Thanadir in Sindarin to ensure that any elven wine that might yet be in her quarters made its way elsewhere, prior to her arrival in them. He could easily stall for the time needed to accomplish that essential task. He did not trust her ability to remember her promises in this condition, not one bit.

Lorna hummed lightly to herself along the way, quite at one with the world. Good food, good booze, good cake, fantastic presents...turning forty wasn't so bad after all. Whether she would still feel like that tomorrow, when she boarded an airplane for the first time in her life, remained to be seen.

Ratiri, listening to her, couldn't help but smile. She quieted along the motorway, eventually falling asleep, slumped in her seat. He wanted to know just what Thranduil had done, because whatever it was, it seemed to have calmed her, and possibly even sobered her.

He let everyone digest assiduously in silence, quite full and pleased himself. He'd sleep like the dead tonight, his mobile charged so that he'd have his alarm, rather than relying on someone outside (how the hell did the Elves know when to get up if they didn't see the sun? Just because...Elves? Probably. He imagined quite a few things were just 'because Elves'.)

The night darkened as they reached Lasg'len, the headlamps cutting swaths through it. When he reached Earlene's driveway, he helped Lorna out - while she might not be as drunk as she was, she still tripped and staggered a bit, swearing in Irish. She seemed quite content to let him help her - until he laid a steadying hand on her shoulder and she twitched. Again.

He knew he shouldn't feel terrible about that, yet he couldn't help it. It always seemed to be her shoulder, or her neck - anywhere near her neck. Just what had happened to her? Nobody did that without cause, especially not so unconsciously.

Thranduil felt sorry for the poor man. Ratiri, offer her your arm, he suggested. While he did not like to interfere, this time he felt justified. Much to Earlene's delight, the ellyn sang again, as they walked through the dark forest, and it was just as incredible as always. Though, she could not stop her mental check-listing entirely. All their things were prepared and triple-checked at the cottage; there really was no reason to keep on this way except when keeping on this way manages to catch an oversight, she reminded herself. Tail had been temporarily pawned off on Mary, in the village, who had been more than delighted to look after the little creature. And, it gave Earlene some satisfaction to think that Hunnie Bunnie, Droopy and Wobbles were not in for a restful week. Again the walk ended too quickly, and at the Gates Thanadir left them quickly, dashing off down paths Earlene did not know. Yet. With great contentment she walked with Thranduil to their rooms, knowing that there was time for rest and no need to rush too much in the morning.

Ratiri was pleased and relieved when Lorna actually took his arm, happily leaning against him and listening to the Elves sing. Never in his life would he have guessed he'd hear such a thing; all he could do was focus on it, and keep her close. To walk in another world, while still in the one he'd always inhabited...he wasn't drunk, but he still didn't have words for it.

Lorna, mellow if not steady, stumbled her way along, clinging to Ratiri's arm each time she threatened to pitch forward. He was warm and steady and he smelled so very good, but she was sober enough that she didn't just straight-up sniff him like a creeper.

She was, however, just drunk enough that when they made it to her room, she had enough liquid courage to quite abruptly climb Ratiri like a tree, pulling him into a somewhat sloppy, rather inexpert kiss. It had been years since she'd done this, and she was never very good at it anyway, but for once her reserve and inhibitions had gone down the drain, vanished along with her sobriety.

Ratiri twitched, and let out a noise very like a squawk, which would haunt him until the end of his life. He at least had the wherewithal to grab hold of her, even as the impact sent him staggering backward into the wall. She was utterly smashed and he knew he shouldn't be kissing her back, but he couldn't help it, not entirely. She tasted like cake and liquor and Lorna, and it was all he could do to set her down, disentangling her arms from around his neck.

She must have misinterpreted him, for she tensed, drawing away. "Sorry."

"I'm not," he said, running his fingers along the smoothness of her hair. "But you're very drunk, Lorna. Try this again when you're sober, and see if you still want to."

"You want to?" she asked, with a very uncharacteristic hesitance.

"I do," he assured her, smoothing his thumb along her cheekbone, "but not like this. Sleep, Lorna. When you're back from New York, we'll...see about doing this properly." His Dad had raised him to be a gentleman: if you were thinking about getting intimate with a lady, you took her to a nice dinner, then to a film or theater or ice skating or...whatever. You didn't just start snogging her in a hallway.

"Okay," she said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She disappeared into her bedroom before he could say anything more, and he heaved a great sigh. He wasn't sure if he ought to hope she remembered this tomorrow or not.

* * *

At exactly 7:30am the following morning, for the first time in his elven life Thanadir was treated to a fair imitation of a military master sergeant. "Everybody. You have fifteen minutes to care for any further matters, including being in whatever clothing you have chosen for the flight; we leave for the cottage at that time. No exceptions." The glare leveled at the ellyn as they each ate their first spoonful of porridge caused both of them to pause. Lorna and Ratiri showed no inclination to argue. Their breakfast had been brought with what Earlene felt was maddening slowness, today of all days. She herself ate at an accelerated rate, knowing perfectly well that the next six hours would be what she not-so-fondly termed "The Clusterfuck." You arrived for the flight the recommended time early, because you never, ever took security or whatever else might be going on at the terminal for granted. This meant, more often than not, rushing just so that you could sit around with your proverbial thumb up your arse for the next two and a half hours...but it was all the more reason why you left things like eating a full breakfast to after you'd passed the gauntlet. There were times when the lines had been so bad, the delays so ridiculous; given that she was trying to travel internationally with two non-humans who had very recently received legal documentation, in her opinion some tension was merited and allowable.

Thranduil saw all of this flare through her mind and had to acknowledge that while he did not see the problem, several factors that might lie beyond his control could be encountered, and her concerns could not be dismissed out of hand. That and, it would be simply arrogant to assume that he somehow knew and understood all of what this would entail because of access to her thoughts. He did not, and what they would do today was unprecedented in the history of his people. "Very well, meluieg," he said placatingly. "It will be as you wish." Earlene relaxed visibly, further reinforcing the wisdom of the response.

Thanadir's eyebrows arched at Earlene's words, but if the King took no offense, neither could he or would he. What seemed like just a few minutes later, they were loading their bags into Ratiri's automobile, amidst that dazed aura of 'are we really doing this?' so common to multiple inexperienced travelers. Earlene asked Lorna to double-check in the car that her carry-on items lacked things like...tiny pocket knives, screwdrivers, just...anything of an objectionable nature (the list was longer and more ridiculous all the time, in her opinion; and the request came not because she thought Lorna was incompetent but because she'd lost tiny penknives every. damn. time. through failing to remember to check her purse carefully enough, and she said as much to clarify).

Lorna had been smart enough to get everything but her carry-on ready to go before she got drunk last night. She'd been equally smart in choosing her clothes: leggings, sandals, a sleeveless tunic under a long-sleeved one, her hair in one long braid. She also had her iPod and a book in her carry-on, on the off chance she actually stayed awake; she fully intended to have a drink or five and sleep.

While she and Ratiri hadn't said anything about the previous night, he'd flushed like a brick as soon as he saw her, so she was pretty sure she hadn't put him off. When he insisted she sit up front, after a glance at Thranduil, she was quite sure. He wouldn't want her there if she'd gone and scared him off.

Earlene did not mind in the least to find herself with not one but two walking security blankets. This would be so, so much easier in so many ways if she were doing this alone...and yet maybe not in others. She took her husband's arm. We've spoken about what to expect on this part of our adventure to an extent, but you understand that you are the one who must communicate with me if anything at all seems strange or starts to seem difficult for you or any of the others? Airports and travel are a very bad direct result of 9/11. More than any other single thing, flying to a destination is difficult and people are fearful and paranoid because airplanes were used by the terrorists. You cannot joke, you cannot say one word that might imply that everything is not completely serious. Words like 'bomb', 'terrorism', 'hijack' and similar are enough to get you taken into custody if they are overheard by another. I need to know that you understand this. You feel responsible for me, but in terms of you coming with me to New York, I feel responsible for all of you. Lorna is going to be only slightly less lost than you ellyn.

Thranduil placed his arm around her. I do understand. Your current level of anxiety alone tells me that this is a serious matter. I will not speak or act in a way that is inappropriate, and I will be paying careful attention to you. With a squeeze of appreciation, she leaned into him, generally not looking forward to the next twelve hours. The kicker of it was, they would leave at 1pm and arrive at 3pm after eight hours in transit because the planet would rotate, just to annoy her.

The fact that Lorna was mildly hung over was the only reason she wasn't more nervous - which was damned good, because she was nervous enough as it was. At least her slight morning-after was distraction enough that she could actually bring herself to walk toward the airport, once Ratiri had let them off with all their luggage. (She managed to give him a kiss on the cheek before all but fleeing, hauling her carry-on, her Gran's old suitcase, and another one nearly as tall as she was. She planned on bringing back souvenirs, dammit.) There were many people in Baile, and she actually had the money to buy them shit, so she was damn well going to.

She was also going to be a smart cookie and stay behind the elves when they got inside. Crowds were not her friend; crowds in an enclosed space, even less so. Thranduil and Thanadir could probably part one like the Red frigging Sea, so she'd stay like a barnacle to whichever elf Earlene hadn't attached herself to at any given moment. (The poor bastards, they had no idea how possibly literally she might mean that, too.)

Thranduil smiled. Yes, we do, Lorna. We are here to help you, and we welcome that you keep close to us. I don't think I need tell you that I am paying very close attention to Earlene. Anything at all you wish to understand, simply direct that through me and she will answer. That we all have as good of an experience as possible is something she has worked very hard to ensure. While she does not worry in the same manner as you, it takes another form; that of all her extensive planning. She knows you have never flown and while she may not show it, she is very concerned for your feelings.

Earlene seemed to just know what to do. They were all coached to have passports and other IDs together, in an easily accessible pocket. Boarding pass folded inside. She marched them to the baggage counter where they did not need to panic like some of the arrivals in that line next to them were doing; she had already prepared tags that were both on the luggage handles and inside each item. With greater efficiency than Lorna believed could happen their belongings were taken from them and were seen disappearing down a conveyor belt, heading to places unknown. Hurdle one had just been accomplished.

Next was security. They were early, there were no huge crowds by the standards of what could be the case, and this greatest moment of tension for Earlene was navigated easily. Though she had actually been cleared for the "fast track" line, she stayed back and kept in the queue with those who had not been thusly blessed, refusing to leave them. What Thanadir thought of having to take his shoes off and the rest of this charade, she could only imagine, but in no small part to her exhaustively preparing all of them for what they would experience, it really was rather easy.

Lorna, growing ever tenser in what seemed to her such a crowd - was this airport ever not crowded, she wondered; somehow, she doubted it - finally caved and grabbed the back of Thranduil's shirt, at least careful not to yank any of his hair, out of fear that she'd get lost if she didn't have hold of one of them. The space was so big it echoed, the tile pale and chilly beneath her feet when she dutifully took off her sandals. At least the weather was fine, the sun shining golden outside the oddly louvered windows; they wouldn't be taking off in a rainstorm.

Putting her bag through the X-ray whatever-it-was was strangely nerve-wracking, despite the fact that she didn't actually have anything bad in it. As she'd expected, the pin in her left leg set off the metal detector, but she'd been smart and got a note from Doc Barry explaining that yes, she had a pin in her leg. She managed to hold still while a hand-wand was waved over her leg, confirming that that was in fact where the metal was, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she made it through, keeping firmly between Thranduil and Thanadir until Earlene, who seemed so enviably calm, followed.

Two down. "Now for the last one. I'm sorry, because we're going to have to do everything we just did all over again." This was the US Customs pre-clearance. Again, somehow the queues were decent, and apparently they all passed muster because no one wanted to inspect their bags.

When they all had their shoes back on and computers back in hand on the other side, for the second time, Earlene allowed herself to relax a little. "Now we do what I call 'hurry up and wait.' We have some time, before we go. There is shopping, eating, drinking, and zoning out with electronic devices. Oh yes, and talking. Other than those options, I've never figured out how to improve on this part of the experience. What would make you happiest?"

"Will there be alcohol in those drinks?" Lorna asked hopefully. She really should not be this tense, but she was going to get into a giant metal tube and fly over several thousand miles of ocean. Ocean they would splat against like a bug if they fell out of the sky - and then drown, if they didn't splat all the way.

"There could be," said Thranduil. "But we should eat some actual food first, and then perhaps you would also let me help you as well," he said quietly to Lorna.

"The best thing here, according to the Internet, is a...Thai noodle place," she said, frowning. "I'll just point out, by the time we arrive, get to our hotel and all that good stuff, it is going to be about nine in the evening according to our bodies...just to, you know, plan yourselves. And of course only Lorna and I will think that matters," she said with a smile. "This way to the noodles." As they walked, Thranduil put his arm across Lorna's shoulder, determined to leave her seeking alcohol because she wanted it, not because she needed it. Thanadir, having no idea what Thai noodles were, felt keenly interested to find out.

Thai sounded good. You couldn't go wrong with noodles, Lorna thought, and she'd defer to Earlene's judgment when it came to such a drastic time zone change and the resulting jet lag. Part of her really disliked how comforting being touched was, just because it ought to be weird and wrong, and yet was not. Only she could find being comforted something to be disturbed by. It left her far less tense, though, her nerves no longer stretched tighter than an over-extended guitar string. "How long have we got to wait, exactly?" she asked. Her phone was in her bag, somewhere; she didn't know how long the whole mess had taken, but she suspected not as long as it had felt like.

"The flight leaves the ground at one o'clock. Figure that the twenty to thirty minutes before that is for boarding and….airline stuff. It's about 11:30 just now. So, basically an hour, or, enough time to eat, use the restrooms and take a few pictures of your chariot, if you care. There's wifi both here in the terminal and on the plane," she said, trying to be helpful.

Food, bathroom, photos...sounded good. Another thing Lorna had bought was a rather high-quality printer, because she'd decided to take after Mairead and scrapbook. Currently she had two going: one for her and one for Earlene and the Elves. Looking out the window at the massive planes, however, proved to be a mistake. She'd known they were big, obviously, but not that big - which was rather stupid of her, but there you were. It wasn't like she'd ever seen one in real life.

She had a sudden mental image of the scene from Airplane where the plane taxied right through one of the big plate-glass windows, and wondered if they'd all be grounded if some idiot managed it here. That, naturally, sent her brain down an entirely different tangent. "Of course I'm serious," she muttered, "and don't call me Shirley."

Earlene heard the reference, rolled her eyes, and decided that silence was best. Thanadir was much happier once they had eaten, and he'd finished everything that Lorna and Earlene couldn't. The thing she debated was whether or not to buy Thanadir snacks...but those would amount to modern, processed, packaged food, the hideousness of which had never before sullied elven lips. He might like it, and he might find it inedible, and she was not certain she wanted to discover that either way. Yet the other side of it was, the elf could probably eat the entire complement of meals for all of business class and still have room. Perhaps some salted nuts, could not go too far amiss…

The four of them stood, prior to boarding, staring out of the massive window at the A330-200 airbus that would carry them to New York. It was the first time either elf had seen an airplane up close and in person, and perhaps the same was true for Lorna as well; Earlene was not sure about that part. Thanadir especially stared at it, fascinated. "How can this possibly fly?" he asked softly. "It is large and must weigh a great deal, and those wings do not move as a bird's do." Like Thranduil, he had seen the great machines far overhead in the sky, but even elven eyes had their limits as to what they could discern. Earlene smiled and explained the physics of their operation; the tremendous thrust generated by the jet engines, how the airfoil created the lift that allowed for flight, and the speeds at which they would move in comparison to the speed at which they had driven in the automobile. The elves listened and seemed to have considerable appreciation. "If you are very lucky, when we are being seated, it is possible you might see a glance at the cockpit, where the pilots are. The controls are amazing. Before 9/11 it was common to be allowed to take a quick look if you asked but now, I'm almost afraid to be caught sneaking a glimpse." She sighed, regretting how much had changed. And with that, it was time to board.

Because Earlene was Earlene, she'd found out that four pairs of the seats in business class were the most desirable, and arranged for them to have those kinds. They would be separated by a short distance, but that was a small concern. A reviewer had termed these luxury window spots "Captain Kirk" seats, which made them instantly appealing. Thranduil had already agreed with her that he care for Lorna; he could enjoy the window seat and Earlene would give Thanadir the same; they could trade off if anyone wished. Business class was worth the cost. Massage seats, huge screens, very good food, and most priceless of all, the ability to completely recline and therefore sleep if one wished. She truly felt sorry for Lorna's deer-in-headlights expression and lingered back to have a word with the flight crew. "My three guests have never flown before," she said softly. "And my female friend is very nervous." Nothing else needed mentioning; the flight attendant smiled and nodded in the universal understanding of 'got it.' Smiling, she guided Thanadir to his seat, explaining quietly that he could do as he wished. As she passed Lorna, she reminded her to set her phone to Airplane Mode. And the rest would be up to the flying gods, she reasoned, settling herself with a contented sigh.

The fortunate thing about being Lorna-sized - and it was one of a very, very few fortunate things - was that the seat was more than big enough for her. She quite happily ceded the window seat to Thranduil; she would have insisted, had he made it necessary. She fussed with her bag, doing as Earlene instructed with her phone, toeing off her sandals. Either she needed a stiff drink or a nap, but she doubted the latter was an option until they were up in the air and could actually move their seats. (They couldn't do that yet, right? Probably not.) Jesus, she shouldn't be this nervous - they hadn't even started moving yet, let alone taken off. Thranduil and Thanadir looked enviably calm, and they ought to be even worse off than her. But then, though flying was certainly new to them, they'd seen other awe-inspiring things.

"How long until we can order booze?" she asked Earlene, in something of a stage whisper. It was probably too much to hope the airline had poitín, but she was going to ask anyway, dammit.

Thranduil paused a moment. Earlene says, "once the plane reaches a certain altitude the flight attendants will automatically ask to take your order. Piece of advice, get water to go with; planes are dehydrating. They try pretty hard to keep you happy in business class, he grinned, as he relayed her words.

Not long after, the inevitable speech about safety and evacuation happened. Poor Lorna. Earlene then shared as much information as she could with her husband two rows back. The plane is about to be pushed back; the motion will be noticeable, and the aircraft will lumber along the ground on its way to the runway. You will see out the window that we pass a large number of white stripes on the ground at some point, and after that you will hear a roar of noise as they fully engage the engines. The force of it will push you into your seat, a little. When we reach a certain speed, the pilot will send the plane into the air and it will shudder as it leaves the ground; this is all totally normal. And then we will climb, and keep climbing. The engines will still make a great deal of noise until we reach a certain altitude. Maybe you can somehow impart all that to Lorna, who I would guess will find this upsetting.

Thanadir was already studying air traffic routes, finding everything to be fascinating. Thranduil turned to Lorna. How are you doing, Lorna?

I could do with a drink, but otherwise I'm okay, she said, hoping she looked more convincing than she felt. She actually wasn't as bad as she'd been when they boarded, but they also hadn't really got going yet. I don't suppose you can make me take a nap later, can you? After I've had a drink? Thought of being over water...just no. While she no longer had such a fear of drowning as she'd had before he'd dealt with her memories of Liam's death, she was probably never going to be comfortable with large bodies of water. Yeah, the plane had rafts, apparently, but the ocean was cold, and choppy, and they could so easily get lost...yeah, no, she wasn't going to focus on that. She'd look forward to her booze instead. Even if the plane didn't have any poitín, they probably had some pretty high-class liquor, and that made all kinds of things all kinds of better.

Looking out the window and observing, Thranduil saw each itemized occurrence that his wife had noted, and knew what must come next. Give me your hand, Lorna, he said, not particularly waiting for a response as he reached over and took it, just when the jet engines roared to life. He did what he could for her; while not wishing to render her completely insensible, hopefully some blanketing of her fear resulted as well as some reassurance. Earlene, meanwhile, was happily chattering at Thanadir, who seemed to soak up everything she told him. While she'd never been around aviation per se, previous flights had left her curious about many things, and she'd researched a great deal about how it all worked; she found the large aircraft to be rather impressive achievements of engineering. And she very much would never forget the look of simple wonder when the ancient elf saw the ground falling away beneath his window, and had his first view of the world from the air. It made her happy, that she could actually believe now and again that she had brought him good as well as an element of chaos.

Lorna twitched a little when the plane took off, but Thranduil had given her enough telepathic Xanax that she did nothing more than twitch. So long as she resolutely ignored the fact that the windows existed, she could relax, giving his hand a grateful squeeze (and, of course, immediately thinking of guitar-playing nuns, because naturally she wasn't getting Airplane out of her head any time soon. She wondered if it was on the options for the in-flight movie.) Maybe this won't be so bad, she said. I'm sure Thanadir's fascinated. She didn't need to see him to be able to picture his understated but almost childlike glee at finding something new. Fun fact: the first planes were mostly make out of cloth. In World War II, right, there was this squadron of Russian female pilots called the Night Witches. They'd fly low over the German camps at night, below the radar, then shut their damn planes off so they couldn't be heard coming, bomb the shit out of the camp, turn their engines back on, and get the hell out. The Nazis were terrified of them. Tatiana had certainly been an education about many things Russian, not just the language.

Soon Lorna's drink was on its way, and now Thranduil tried for another strategy, having found the movie options. I will not stop you sleeping if you wish, but would you like to watch a movie with me? Surely some cultural tour de force is among these selections, about which you could enlighten me.

Lorna gave him a half-grin, knocking back her drink as soon as it was in her hand. Damn, that was some good Scotch. Are you sure you want a cultural tour de force, after Hedwig and the Angry Inch? she asked, scrolling through the selections. While Thanadir might not appreciate Aliens, she thought Thranduil might...once he had some background info. Okay, so this movie is actually the second in a series, but you don't need to see the first. I snuck in to see this one as a kid and it scared the shit out of me. It's set in the future, like Star Trek, but not optimistic. Humans can travel in space, is what you need to know at the outset.

She queued up the movie, letting Thranduil know he should ask whatever questions he had - space travel was a familiar concept, but it wasn't the same thing in the Alien universe. Lorna had always found the opening rather horrifying, mainly because it was a fear that could be realistic in the right setting: to get put in stasis so long you outlive your child...just no. Sigourney Weaver sold it way too well. Nine-year-old Lorna had just been glad her cat got left at home this time, and wasn't in any danger.

Burke, the slimeball. He's a metaphor for everything wrong with corporations and their greed. Earlene, she could probably tell you all sorts of stories about corporate bullshit. She tried not to think about just how the man got his comeuppance in the film, instead focusing on the assorted space marines. Now this is actually a metaphor for the Vietnam War, which is a whole other history lesson and mostly involves the States and Vietnam itself. This lot are the dregs, who got sent out on this mission because they're expendable, and none of them know it. They think they're the Lords of bloody Creation. She was so lost in the movie - and her commentary - that she forgot they were God knew how many thousand feet in the air.

Thranduil watched, impressed on some level that the film was having an emotional impact on him of any kind; drawing him in and inviting him to suspend his understanding of the real world. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit. What in Eru's name….? There was a creature, a vile looking creature. Morgoth himself could have invented it….and then it was clinging to a man's face...the hard thing about this, Lorna, is that in my world of old, things not so different from this were actually real. And yet it does not change that this is vastly entertaining, somehow….

The spiders? she asked. Ugh, I can't stand spiders, but I'd hope they didn't lay eggs down a person's throat so the new spider ate its way out of the person's chest. Just wait 'til you see the full-grown alien. Apparently what they do, how they breed, it's one big metaphor for rape. She'd read a highly informative article once, detailing all the weird shit going on with the design behind the Alien universe. It was a lot more than what one saw on the surface. That it had been done, in the first movie, to a male first, was entirely intentional: Ridley Scott wanted to make the audience squirm, to think. When it came to useful education, Lorna was rather lacking, but she was a fountain of random trivia.

Earlene set Thandir up to understand all the entertainment options available to him, and spent her time watching movies with him, taking a really decent nap after taking advantage of the massage features built into her seat, and generally enjoying the fact that she wasn't packed in like ground meats into a sausage casing. It seemed crazy, to spend so much money to travel like this, but not arriving exhausted and irritable had its value. Thanadir enjoyed the food very much, especially when Earlene relinquished half her dinner to him. She just was not as hungry as he seemed to be, ever, and it felt like taking food from a starving person. After she woke from her sleep, Thanadir asked her about what he was seeing; they were tracing over the edge of the east coast of Canada and the US by now, and he had been enjoying himself watching their progress and descent on the video display screen.

Lorna had sworn she wasn't going to look out the window, but apparently they were over land again now, so she sat up on her knees to peer past Thranduil - she didn't actually want to get close to the window, but seeing the earth so far below wasn't as bad when she was a seat removed. It very nearly gave her vertigo; she had to focus on the plane's wing more than once to reorient herself. "For hundreds'v years, people said we'd never do this," she said, half to herself. "They said we'd never fly, and we flew. Then we'd never break the sound barrier, and we did. Then we shot human beings into space in what were basically tin cans. You've got to put Apollo 13 on your list'v movies to watch. It's based on shite that actually happened, and I promise there's nothing, y'know, kinky in it."

She had to sit down again when they began their descent in earnest, so abruptly she almost knocked over her empty dishes (she'd manage to limit herself to three tiny liquor bottles, which was something of a miracle. Thranduil and his telepathic tranquilizers...seriously, she really did want to bottle it.) Still, as fantastically comfortable as these seats were, she'd just about give her left kidney for a real bed.

After a landing that Earlene privately rated as a "B+", they made their way to baggage claim. A trim looking woman who held a small sign that said "Sullivan" caught her eye, and Earlene introduced herself. Her travel agent had decided it made the most sense to simply send her employee to ferry them to their hotel, which was an extra touch that was much appreciated. She saw at a distance that someone possessed the wisdom to have Thanadir clear a space for Lorna at the carousel before carnage could ensue; she'd forgotten to warn her friend about the unspoken rules of baggage etiquette and how few people actually observed them. The bright pink ribbon-festooned pieces of luggage were plucked off one at a time, with Thanadir equally wisely letting Lorna do most of the work, and only helping her with the ones that were particularly large or unwieldy. To her amusement, she noticed that the ellyn had created a small island for themselves, because the first person to try to push Thranduil aside had apparently been the last. That humans would simply rebound off of an elf shouldn't have surprised her, but it was still funny to watch.

Watching the few people who dared stumble into the elves...it was a good thing Lorna was busy, because it was all she could do not to keep a straight face, even as she felt rather guilty. Being jostled like this had to be a new experience for both of them, and Christ knew what a pounding Thranduil's brain was taking in this crowd. She tried to think of something harmless, but naturally could only think of that scene in Airplane where the 'no-frills' passengers came out the chute with the luggage. She kind of wanted to try that, but oh well. A few well-placed elbows meant she and Thanadir between them managed to get all their luggage out in one piece; she was damn glad she'd put on the bows, because quite a lot of people had very similar bags and suitcases.

Like a smart person, she let Thanadir go ahead of her, following not quite on his heels until they'd reached Earlene, Thranduil, and a lady with a sign, who evidently had something to do with them. "I think we've got it all." It was still lovely and cool within the airport, but she wondered what it was like outside.

"Lisa is the kind person who is driving us to our hotel, to save the bother of this being a taxi ride," Earlene said with a smile, as they all followed the young woman, whose only defining characteristic was her utter plainness. Their bags were soon loaded, and Earlene thanked the travel deities (because it seemed somehow disrespectful to bring Eru into this discussion) that they had avoided US Customs by caring for all that in Dublin and were now headed out with just under an hour to spare before commute traffic could wreak its special form of hell on them. Every minute counted, and she made sure they didn't dawdle at getting away from JFK as quickly as possible.

By Lorna's standards, it was quite warm outside, though not unbearably so. She shed her outer tunic and tied it around her waist, grateful she'd worn layers and sandals. What surprised her was the exhaust fumes - she doubted a city-dweller would notice at all, but she'd lived so long in the Irish countryside that she sure as hell did.

She let Thanadir do most of the stowing of their luggage - he would, she was sure, be fantastic at Tetris. Even already, everything she'd seen seemed so...so big, compared to Ireland, and they weren't even that far from the airport. From her vantage point in the middle seat (because at her height, one was always in the middle seat) she felt as though they were driving through some artificial canyon.

She thought, naturally, of just what would happen in this crowded place if a zombie outbreak happened. All these cars; didn't New York have something like eight million bloody people in it? Packed like Spam in a can...that, in turn, made her think of The Stand, and the truly haunting scenes in Manhattan. That she was here, actually here, had yet to properly register, and not just because she was still slightly groggy from her nap.

Earlene pointed out a few scenic...things...to Lorna, not wanting to be overwhelming. It had never fully registered in her mind, how strange her home would be to one who had never seen many (or any) of the major world cities before...and there was a lot of reason to argue that this one reigned supreme. It was hard not to be proud of New York, for the good it had. All huge cities seemed to share the bad, but what New York had that was positive, it had in abundance. Their drive toward Manhattan had them squarely aimed at the lower part of town, where the skyline and its many famous buildings were easily recognized….Empire State Building, the Freedom Tower, Chrysler Building, and a few other notables that most everyone had at least seen in a photo. Her charmed existence came through once again, because the traffic that should have been starting in earnest just hadn't yet. They'd taken the nicest suite at the Park Central Hotel on 57th Street; it was well-recommended and more importantly was located more or less in the middle of everything Earlene wished to show her family. Travel agency magic had ensued, because while they were offloaded, check-in was somehow magically being accomplished even though they were technically fifteen minutes early. Moments later, key cards in hand, they were off to their suite that was pretentiously named 'The Times Square.'

Everyone was admonished to guard their key cards with their lives and to keep them always always always in a pocket...that way, when one of them managed to fail at this, someone else would be able to let the rest of them into the room. Earlene demonstrated to the elves what they did, and with a click they entered the (by New York City standards) spacious accommodations.

Lorna was both glad to be off the crowded streets, and glad for a chance to kick her sandals off. The unfortunate thing about leggings was that they had no pockets, but sports bras made great pockets, especially if you didn't naturally have much to put in one: her key card joined her mobile phone, because any lunatic willing to try to grab that would be lucky if all they lost was a finger. "It's very white, isn't it?" she asked, refusing to touch anything until she'd washed her hands. The beds were big, though, and she was small; if she'd be sharing with Thanadir, at least she wouldn't kick him off the edge. Having spent her adolescence in a warehouse that lacked privacy, sharing sleeping space with someone was not a big deal to her; her only worry was that she might accidentally kick him in the kidney or something if she had a bad dream.

"I think it's a hotel thing," Earlene said, frowning. "I'm with you, I always feel like I have to be afraid to sit on the damn things whether I do or not. They all love white. I'd guess it is because that way, it screams 'hey, this is totally clean and pristine, just for you!"

Most of Lorna's clothes could stay in her bags, but she had to hang her fancy dress up, and let a few of her tunics un-crumple. She was not going to test the beds by jumping on one. She simply wasn't going to do it, no matter how tempting it was.

For the next many minutes, they were all occupied with unpacking their things and setting them in places that made sense. They'd brought some jewelry, for their special invitation, and that along with a significant sum of cash went into their safe. And finally, with a look of pure mischief, Earlene bounced herself on the bed before rebounding back up to her feet. Thranduil looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and her response to that was to giggle and jump on the bed with both feet, and bounce up and down a good three times before flopping back down on her rear end. "What?" she quipped. "I'm glad to finally be here. With all of you. We made it; the least I can do is jump on the bed a few times and hope whoever is staying on the floor below us isn't trying to sleep right now. Besides, this is the first time in my life I've been here to pretend I'm a tourist. That's Times Square," she said, pointing at the garishly monstrous video screens that could be seen in the distance, "and I'm showing some respect."

Well, if Earlene could do it, Lorna felt entirely justified in hopping up onto her bed and giving it a few experimental bounces, at least managing not to actually say Wheeeee! out loud before she sat, flopping back and shutting her eyes just a moment. "This city," she said, looking out at the massive buildings beyond, "is huge. As in, everything in it is huge. I'm used to being small, but not this small. I wish I had Marty McFly's hoverboard." Though of coasting along above everyone's heads was fantastic, and the fact that she could think that while sober told her she needed more to drink. "So what's our plan?"

"It's 4:30, here-time. Meaning that it's midnight-thirty, Ireland time. New York doesn't ever stop and the moment we go outside, you'll forget that you're tired. I'd planned for us to not have to do much besides stroll around to see Times Square and where some of the theaters are, gawk around, and of course eat. The food in this area is solidly just OK; it's more for tourists. But there is an Irish-type pub that won't poison us across the street a bit, coffee shops and bakeries, and places to eat cheesecake of every description until even Thanadir has to concede defeat. So the first question is, do you want to eat now, or in awhile? And since I know Thanadir's answer, the actual question is, are you ok to wait a little or do we eat first?"

"I'm good either way, but I'd love a drink," Lorna said, knowing Thanadir would probably appreciate the support. "Should I even be hauling my satchel around, or just, y'know, keep doing what I'm doing?" She gestured vaguely at her mobile, just visible over the collar of her vest top.

"You're fine. Most tourists don't look like we look, and I pity the poor bastard that makes a grab for your phone," Earlene chuckled.

Thanadir smiled and said softly, "I am happy to wait, to eat." Whereupon Thranduil said, "I think I am less happy. I would like more food as much as I think Lorna would like a drink. Why don't we try this...pub; it would easy our transition to being outside Ireland."

"Of course," she said, gesturing for them to all leave. "Just remember what I said about not stopping on the sidewalks. There will be lots of time to ogle the buildings, I promise." She led the way back to the elevator, before changing her mind; this hotel was somewhat labyrinthine in its hallways. "Come on, this'll be fun. Let's take the stairs down. Never hurts to know another way out besides an elevator, and going down isn't so much work." What she didn't do was complete her sentence with the words in case there is a fire. The stairwell was another world. Gone were the luxurious carpets, and instead an echo chamber of fluorescent lights and random echoes that seem to come up from the pits of the earth greeted them. Not the sort of place she'd be alone late at night, but it was fun to bounce down whilst holding the rails. "Lorna, remember the part in Holy Grail where the animated guy had to go down all the stairs?" she said as she clattered down multiple steps at a time in a manner that alarmed Thanadir somewhat. He made quite a lot of haste, to follow her closely.

Lorna cackled. "I do," she said, sandals flapping somewhat as she followed suit. She'd never seen this side of Earlene before; perhaps being on her home turf, so to speak, brought out something more carefree in her. "Getting back up all'v them'll be a bitch, but if we're drunk enough we won't care."

"Pffft," Earlene fired back. "You know you're drunk to even try that; going up is what the damn elevator's for."

They were just a bit too tall for her, which made going down them all the more fun. "I bet these'd be wicked with a sled, so long as you could corner with it." Part of her was tempted to try to slide down the bannister, but if she lost her grip, it was an awfully long way down. Twenty years ago - hell, even ten - she might have dared it, but she was wiser now. Or at least, less willing to risk shattering all her bones. It would make for a really shitty return flight, if nothing else. "So, I know getting it home'd be a nightmare, even if I just carried it in my luggage, but is there someplace I could get a knife? Only I just don't feel comfortable walking around a city without one. I've not done that since I was ten years old." She was fairly sure Thanadir, the ever-vigilant, would want one himself. While she highly doubted she'd actually need to use it, it was...well, like a security blanket. A very sharp, pointy security blanket.

Earlene tilted her head, somewhat content now to go down the stairs in a manner approaching normalcy after five floors had been descended with great silliness. "That isn't hard, depending. You mean something just normal? A folding knife? Or are you talking about a Bowie knife?"

"Folding knife's best," Lorna said. "Well, a Bowie knife would be, but I've got no idea how legal they are in the States. I don't need one tonight, but my back'll itch if I've not got one sooner or later, if you catch my meaning." She was morbidly curious about handguns, but that was never going to happen. She couldn't bring it back to Ireland even if she could legally get her hands one one in New York - which, with her arrest record, was doubtful.

"There is a place but...there are some very strange laws on the books here, about possession of knives. You don't want to know how many people are jailed here each year because of not even knowing those laws exist; it's become a big stink and they're trying to overturn it. I can show you the website; the place itself is quite a distance from here near Lower Manhattan. We'll be in that neighborhood at some point, I just can't say it will be tomorrow. I can't say they'll have the sort of thing I think you have in mind...and while I understand your reasons, about the last thing that needs to happen on this trip is running afoul of the NYPD."

That hardly seemed fair. The criminals probably had knives and guns, after all. "So what in bloody hell do people here actually defend themselves with?" she asked, baffled. "I mean, pepper spray hurts like a bastard, but it's no guarantee the person you spray'll go down." She'd watched someone power through it once, and it had been terrifying - not least because he'd been crazy pissed off he'd been sprayed in the face. "Oh well. It's annoying, but it's not the end'v the world." There were four of them, after all, and while she might not have a knife, she did have very sharp teeth. And here she'd thought weapons were everywhere in the States. She wondered if the elves were as weirded out by the lack of knives as she was; she had no idea if they normally carried when they left the forest or not, but she was willing to be they did. If Thanadir was Earlene's bodyguard, Lorna really doubted he went out totally unarmed.

She wondered if there were any lowlives idiotic enough to try to mess with him. She doubted any would go after Thranduil - he was just too damn intimidating, if you didn't know him - but Thanadir...she would swear Thanadir cultivated his delicate, slightly doe-eyed appearance on purpose. She could see some criminal with more teeth than brain cells going after him, and winding up very, very surprised. For the five seconds they stayed conscious.

"I've lived here all my life without a knife or a gun. You use your brain. Trouble doesn't follow you for blocks, especially when you are in the company of two males over six foot tall. It comes out of being in the wrong neighborhoods and being alone in the wrong places at night. I know when people don't look right, for where they are. If someone is acting weird, I'm on the other side of the street before I'm even done thinking about it. I watch what others are doing and I pay attention to who is near me. I know where police are, and what places are under surveillance. I carry pepper spray and while it's true that it might not stop a person, I can just about guarantee you it will give me time to get away; I can run. I've taken self-defense classes and I'm not afraid to behave aggressively if I think it's needed. I know how to act, how to be, so that I don't look like an easy target. This is actually one of the safest cities there is, especially the parts we will be seeing. Besides, truly violent criminals don't waste their time on knives; they have automatic handguns. If someone is determined to shoot me, then I'm dead. But it hasn't happened yet, and I have a lot of reason to believe it won't on a week long trip, either."

While it was probably the same in the nicer half of Dublin, Lorna had grown up on the shitty side. She wasn't used to thinking about what it was like in the nicer section. "I'm so used to Dublin," she sighed. "Knives are the thing, there. I'm just so used to carrying one that I almost feel naked without it, no matter how safe we are." Even now, she shied away from the idea of cops as the good guys; she'd let Earlene deal with any, should it somehow become necessary. And she knew, better than many, that safety was an illusion, no matter where you were. But Earlene was right; with these two with them, only somebody high on...oh, bath salts, or something...would dare start anything.

They all exited the glass-fronted lobby, waiting a moment before going through the revolving door that led to the street, having agreed beforehand that their mode of navigation would be for Earlene and Thranduil to clear the path, with Thanadir and Lorna following. Even Earlene found that she had to resist the temptation to look up at the buildings, because….it felt so damn good to be back here. It just….did. Even the traffic fumes smelled good, however stupid that seemed. And yet, as she led the way to the crosswalk with the efficient demeanor of a native, she knew that the gladness wouldn't extend to remaining here. Visiting, just feeling and sharing her longtime home with her adopted (and not so adopted) family. In less than a minute they were at the doors of P.J. Carney's and seated in one of the polished wooden booths. "This place is only about ninety years old, Lorna. Noplace is going to rate against home, just so you know. America just doesn't have the depth that the old world does."

It was a bit odd, because there was Irishness to it, and yet not. It was too sleek, too modern, though it tried to mimic age. It smelled like an Irish pub, for the most part, though there were a few food-scents she didn't recognize, and rather more grease. Most of the drinks were different, though she was pleased to note they had Guinness - couldn't have called themselves a proper Irish bar without it.

"Ninety's still nothing to sneeze at, for a pub," she said. "There's many back home that'v been around longer, but many that haven't, too." The booth was upholstered in vinyl, not leather, and didn't that feel odd: it was another almost, but not quite, thing. Given that her feet dangled a few inches above the floor, she settled for sitting cross-legged, trying not to knee anyone in the side in the process. "Though I can't say I ever thought I'd see quesadillas on any Irish menu." She wasn't about to try the Shepherd's pie. She didn't want her heart broken.

The server came round, and it began. "Mac N Cheese with Irish Cheddar and a California Turkey Club with a Guinness," piped Earlene. "Shepherd's Pie and a Spinach and Arugula salad and Guinness," added Thranduil. Earlene wondered if the seneschal would one day say, "The Whole Menu" but then again that'd be giving him ideas. "Steak sandwich with fries and Guinness" said Thanadir, to her surprise. Good choice, filling, Earlene thought with approval.

"Can I get a large'v the Buffalo Wings and a Drunk and Stormy?" Lorna asked, figuring Thanadir would eat what she couldn't, and liking the drink purely for its name.

The server, a young, pleasant-faced man, paused, his eyes going momentarily blank with utter incomprehension. Right. Shit. Lorna repeated herself as carefully as she could, until he got the drift, looking incredibly apologetic. "Don't worry about it," she said. "People back home have a problem with it, too." If he understood any of that, she'd be very surprised.

"Well, Fionn and Cian, what do you think of my city, with its not-so fresh-air, so far?" Earlene asked, smiling.

Thranduil looked at her with an expression that seemed a bit faraway, until it struck her. "You're bombarded here, aren't you, by thoughts?" she guessed.

"Yes. Somewhat," he said, smiling and seeming more present now. "It was fine in our rooms. But even in Dublin, it was an...experience...for me to have so much to ignore. And this is exponentially more challenging than Dublin. But do not be concerned, it is not the first time I have adjusted to so many voices. I can and do manage to disregard much of what I hear; there is only a period of becoming accustomed to it. But that is not the answer to your original question. While I have seen very little I would guess, I confess I am in awe. There are hardly words to describe having flown in the sky, and seeing the land from above. Looking at the buildings in photographs and then finding myself standing near some of them is very different. I can see that your world is not perfect, but what has been achieved is amazing."

Thanadir nodded, his expression shifting dramatically to one of greater seriousness. "I feel somewhat more like Lorna, I think. To have so much to account for, to be around so very many people of unknown intentions...is unnerving. To be away from the place in which I feel a sense of control; to this also I am unaccustomed. But I am trying. I know that it is necessary, and listening to you speak of how you have managed without weapons or the skills of our people has given me much to consider. I too can see that I am surrounded by astonishing things, and I look forward to what we will learn here."

"I feel very small," Lorna said, laughing a little. "I'm with Cian - being someplace I can't control's a bit weird, but I'll get used to it. I've never been around so many people before, and it's like they all know where they're going. I'm not so sure I'd get stepped on even if I didn't have Cian as a human shield." She just barely remembered not to use his real name; she was going to have to get into the habit of calling them Fionn and Cian in her head for the next week. "It's sure a hell'v a lot different than Lasg'len. Shite, it puts Dublin to shame."

"Everyone feels small here, honestly. Having an extra foot or so just doesn't help when it's all that big. Or at least, I don't see how it can…" Earlene trailed off. But just then the drinks arrived, and with a happy clinking of glasses, they toasted their time here. When the food came, she could not resist eyeing Thranduil's shepherd's pie, because she so badly wanted to know if they'd made a hash of it or not.

Buffalo wings were everything Lorna had hoped they might be, and her Drunk and Stormy good enough that she'd suggest it to Big Jamie when they got home. Good food made her feel a bit less like a stranger in a strange land, even if the food itself wasn't quite familiar: they just didn't do proper buffalo wings back home. Naturally, she wound up giving half of them to Thanadir, and reflected that her gran would have loved the elf; she always had liked a lad who could appreciate his food, and that Thanadir did and then some.

Of course, buffalo wings were messy things, and she wound up surrounded by crumpled napkins, but it was worth it. She even managed not to belch, though it was a near thing at one point - ginger beer was, after all, on the fizzy side, and she wound up making a noise that sounded rather like a demented toad, but at least she didn't belch.

There were hours yet of daylight when they finished at left, happier to have a real meal inside of them. Had she been alone, Earlene would have gone to Central Park without hesitation, and run for at least an hour. But with guests and a full stomach...no. While she doubted it was an issue, she already determined that she was not going to be that pregnant woman, that used her condition to swell up to something approximating the dimensions of a beached walrus. Though….twins, she probably was going to have that happen regardless. Times Square it is, she thought, the most touristified place in the entire city. But they were tourists, so why not? And she knew exactly where she was taking Thanadir, and what she was buying him.

As they approached the massive screens that dominated the setting by day or night, Thranduil looked on in wonder. He remembered that not two short months ago, he'd been almost stupefied to see the television screen in Earlene's cottage come to life for the first time...and this was larger than a thousand of them. The images were of nothing consequential and yet mesmerized with light and color. Shaking his head, he remembered to keep aware of his surroundings. He could see in his wife's thoughts that this place was a magnet for visitors, and therefore likely was also a magnet for those who would like to steal or annoy. As they made their way down the sidewalk, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, despite Earlene's admonitions. There was a man, playing a guitar and to all appearances, he was completely unclothed. That's the Naked Cowboy, he heard Earlene think. Did you want a photo with him? His eyes widened.

Anything that could make Thranduil halt had to be worth seeing. Releasing Thanadir's hand, she wormed her way to the edge of the crowd, and...oh my. Yeah, Siobhan would appreciate this one and then some. "Earlene, do me a favor and snap me, will you?" she asked, fishing her phone out of her bra. Picking her way out across the pavement, she gave the man as dazzling a grin as she could and posed like Vanna White presenting him as a prize.

You'll be happy to know he's got skivvies on, she told Thranduil. Not that they at all detracted from the fact that he had a very nice arse. He was actually quite good with his guitar, too - not just a pretty face and a great arse, but legitimately talented. Fishing a fiver out of her wallet, she cheerfully dropped it into his case, tipping him a Britain-style salute.

Earlene chuckled and shook her head as she imagined what they'd say at the office to know she was snapping photos of her friend with this, uh, icon of the City. Fortunately, the camera was pointed in the right direction and she just generally hoped that the photo did not make its way to Ratiri immediately. That poor man….

Lorna, quite pleased, practically skipped back to the little group. She'd heard New York called 'the city that never sleeps', and it was so loud that she'd well believe it. It really was so at odds with Dublin, too; in Dublin, you saw plenty of the lazy sort, just meandering about, in no particular hurry. Everyone here seemed to be on a mission, and with the sidewalks it was almost like a weird sort of dance - crowded though they were, everyone somehow got out of each other's way, without consultation. She wondered if it was some kind of latent telepathy, slowly developed over centuries. Sticking close to Thanadir, she had to marvel a bit as she watched them; given that they surrounded her so closely on all sides, she had little choice but to pay attention. At least half the things that were of interest were high enough that she didn't need to be tall to see them.

"Do you like M&M's, Lorna?" Earlene asked. "The candy? They have that in Ireland, right?"*

"We don't, actually," Lorna said. "We've not got much American candy, unless it's special-ordered through somewhere. If it's candy, though, sign me up." While her sweet tooth wasn't quite so developed as Thanadir's, it was certainly close.

They walked over a block, onto Broadway, with Earlene keeping them all mildly distracted by pointing out other sights. But then she stopped and gestured. "Well, while I won't say that M&Ms are the best thing ever, because they aren't, they do have their place in our culture. Behold. Three stories of chocolate, in rainbow colors. This is the most ridiculous thing I can show you today, unless the Naked Cowboy has a brother."

They all stared up at the construct known as M&M World, where a multistory talking piece of candy glared down at them from a huge display screen. "Eru help me," breathed Thranduil, as he saw the look of happiness washing over Thanadir's face. Earlene was already marching inside, determined to buy Thanadir a small box of them so that he would at least understand what on earth the point of this place was. Thranduil heard his wife say, "Ask Lorna what 'marketing' is…."*

Lorna was possibly having sensory overload. While she wasn't a kid in a candy story, she was child-sized. She vaguely overheard Earlene, but couldn't quite bring herself to tear her eyes from the literal pillar of clear plastic tubes, each filled with a different color candy. The din was all but deafening, the crowd jostling a little more than it did outside. "'Marketing' is making bloody certain people want to buy what you're selling, even if it's shite they don't need and might not even want. If it looks good enough to them, they'll buy it, so you put it in...well, that." She pointed at a plastic Statue of Liberty, the body made up of a green M&M with a disturbingly sultry look on its face. She wanted five of them, and she was more than willing to climb the rack to get at them. "You have to make them want it." She paused. "That's what she said."

Ealene returned just then with a small box of the things, and opened them, pouring some into everyone's hand. "When I was a kid, these were advertised as 'the milk chocolate candy that will melt in your mouth not on your hands.' Which is true to an extent. If you grew up in America, unless you lived in a cave or your parents belonged to some weird dental cult, you spent at least a few hours of your childhood sorting all these out by color, making flowers and such out of them (she demonstrated in Thranduil's hand by placing a yellow one in the center and six red ones at the outside in a fair imitation of a primrose) or some other form of silliness. But...you just eat them," she said, popping one into her mouth.

Lorna's hands were a bit small, but she managed it anyway, and tossed one back. It wasn't the best thing she'd ever eaten, but it wasn't awful, either; chocolate was chocolate, but this seemed a bit cardboard compared to what she was used to. Still, the damn things proved addictive in short order, which she only realized once she'd eaten the entire lot inside of three bites. "They're not that grand, and yet you can't stop eating them," she said. "There's a feat and a half. Maybe it's witchcraft." She eyed the Statues of Liberty. "Here, either one'v you two grab me five'v those things, or lift me up so I can, will you?" she asked. Seriously, there were people in Baile who needed one of those. It had to happen.

Thranduil arched his eyebrows and made certain he'd heard her right. Five of these? he asked, hoping he was wrong. At seeing her completely earnest nod, he handed her what she wished. The hardest part of doing it was repressing what he thought of these...objects.

There are certain people who need these, she said, somehow clutching the lot of them as she grinned at him. Whether they want them or not. I'll make Mairead put it on her mantle for at least a year. And nobody can give it to the thrift store, or everyone'll know. Yes, she could be rather diabolical, in her own small and annoying way. And she couldn't lie - she did in fact want one for herself, because if anything screamed America, it was this.

Earlene looked at Thranduil helplessly and bit the inside of her cheeks. She'd been shockingly naive to think that Lorna would go home with "I 3 NY" t shirts or coffee cups. To distract herself, she turned to Thanadir and asked what color or colors of candy he'd like to have. It was touching, the way he walked past the long tubes of candy, finally settling on one of the multicolored mixes. Two pounds seemed like enough, and he nodded his approval. Besides, they were close enough to buy more before they left.

"Thank you, meluieg," he said, knowing how much she enjoyed exposing Thanadir to new forms of sugar, "but I think it is time for you to rest now."

Earlene had to concur, and a slightly tired nod from Lorna sealed the decision. After all, on their body clocks it was now something like three o'clock in the morning, and they'd only had naps on the plane. Returning to the hotel, and getting first dibs on the bathroom for brushing teeth, that was when she saw it. "What. The. Fuck." came from the bathroom. "Uh, Lorna? Did you actually see this?" She could not take her eyes from it.

Lorna, unwinding her braid, followed Earlene's voice into the bathroom, and halted at what she saw. "Christ in a bloody sidecar, what's that thing?" she demanded, unable to tear her eyes away. It was a portrait, a close-up of some androgynous person, rendered in vivid colors - none of which would have been that big of a deal, except it very blatantly wanted to eat the viewer. Seriously, that was the look of a cannibalistic serial killer if ever she'd seen one. "Not sure I can take a proper shit knowing that's looking down at me. For all I know, it might try to eat my brain."

Earlene walked to the wall, and gently lifted the picture, only to find that it resisted her. "Goddamn thing has a Permanent Sticking Charm on it," she said, her eyes roving around. "Ah, where there's a will, there's a way." Taking a bath towel, she snapped it open and in a moment, the offending object was shrouded in snowy white terry cloth. "Housekeeping will probably have a fit, but, ask me if I care," she muttered through her toothpaste. She figured she'd change when Lorna went for her turn; at this point there was little Thanadir hadn't already seen.

"I doubt we're the first to do it," Lorna said, finishing with her hair and busting out her toothbrush. "They're probably creeped out by the bloody thing, too." She took care of her teeth and face before swapping her somewhat gritty clothes for the nightgown Thanadir had made her. The pollution here must make for a lot of laundry, she reflected, padding her way out into the room. "All right, to my knowledge I don't snore or drool, but I sometimes kick a bit," she told Thanadir. "Though I'm so damn tired I doubt it'll be a worry tonight." She actually had to hop a bit to get up onto the bed, which was every bit as soft as the new mattress she'd bought herself back home. Crawling under the blankets, it wasn't long at all before she was out, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, face slightly mashed against her pillow. The old elf looked over at her with a smile, shook his head and kept reading whatever was on his laptop.

The ellyn dressed in long, loose-fitting tunics that were vaguely reminiscent of nineteenth-century sleepwear, minus the nightcaps. Thanadir was propped up against all the pillows, reading. Earlene was becoming very sleepy; as soon as she realized there were no emails about which she had to care, she closed the screen and set the machine against the nightstand. She'd already set an alarm for rather late in the morning and….."Shit," she breathed, flying back out of bed and heading for the door. Opening it, she put out the Do Not Disturb placard, because….because. Crawling back in, she flipped the covers over her and sought Thranduil's warmth. Lights were turned off, and the last thing she clearly remembered was his arm coming around her, pulling her to him under the covers.

Notes:

Scary Bathroom Guy, for your enjoyment: .

Lorna's M&M Statue of Liberty souvenirs: keyword/statue%20of%20liberty/i-NpVCPCh/A


	34. Chapter 34

Lorna woke the next morning in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in, which meant she had one hell of a crick in her neck. According to her phone, it was seven in the morning, which made her groan. Sunrise always roused her, whether she wanted it to or not; food and caffeine were both necessary. Given that this was America, she'd give coffee a try, once she felt more or less human again.

She gave the elves a vague wave when she half-stood, half-rolled off the bed, zombie-staggering her way to the bathroom. Brushing her teeth and washing her face helped - all the more so because that ungodly painting still had a towel over it. Seriously, whose idea had that thing been? Even with it covered up, she was leery of showering with the damn thing in the same room, but shower she did, careful to keep it short so she and her hair didn't use up all the hot water. The bathroom really was so terribly white, pale stone that was chilly under her bare feet, but the water was gloriously hot, sluicing away the grit of the city. While the air pollution was not so bad as she'd feared, she had got astonishingly dirty for only having walked a few hours.

The nightgown Thanadir had given her was beautiful, but her ancient dressing gown was...less so. For one thing, it was older than she was; it was a patchwork monstrosity that had been presented to her gran as a wedding present in 1945, when World War II had dictated function over fashion in pretty much everything. It certainly made a ludicrous contrast with the nightgown, but it also kept the wet mass of her hair from wrecking the fabric while she brushed it out.

"Caffeine," she said, cracking her neck. Even she had to admit it was a disgusting sound, and yet it felt so nice. "Caffeine and...and...donuts. New York's famous for donuts, right?"

Earlene blinked, feeling far more like having a private tumble in the sheets with the gorgeous male next to her than in dealing with reality, but, that wasn't happening. This was her party, so to speak, and she had guests. She vaguely thanked the powers that the telepathy in this room only extended to one ellon (who was smiling a little too much as he gazed out the window at the garish lights of Times Square), and heaved herself out of bed. "Give me ten minutes, and we can all get going. We might as well anyway; this is going to be a long day. We're crossing town all the way to Battery Park; today is our day to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Very important; everyone needs to have a photo ID today, either your passports or...whatever. I hoped you might really enjoy this, Lorna; I've always admired how much you know about Irish history but I'm guessing that this is a chapter less familiar to you. There are lots of things that tell the story of what happened to all those desperate bastards that took the chance on coming here about a hundred and some odd years ago. Anyway. It won't be cold but it can be windy; dress however you need to."

In record time, she showered (cursing herself for not thinking to invite her husband in here, but then the 'ten minutes' aspect would have gone to hell after all), climbed into clothes and more importantly shoes that would be comfortable through hours of standing around and looking at displays. This even included leaving housekeeping a $20 tip and a note asking for indulgence with the shrouded bathroom picture.

It had been a really long time since she'd been out to Ellis Island, and they'd done tons with the place, much of which she'd not seen since the restorations and improvements. She was just as excited for herself, to enjoy this experience. By group agreement they clattered down the stairs again, this time with Thanadir amusing himself by taking the steps three at a time. Will I ever really know him, wondered Earlene? Probably about the time I'm ready to croak. Maybe. She laughed and did the same thing, but two at a time. "We're eating at Tisserie, just next door to the right out the hotel doors. It's supposed to be yards better than the bakery down in the lobby," she quipped.

"Two fun things about Ireland and the States," Lorna said, figuring there was no harm mimicking the action. "One, during the worst'v the famine, the Choctaw tribe sent money to Ireland, despite the fact that they were bloody broke themselves. There's a statue now, commemorating it. Two, at some point during the Famine, there were more native-born Irish people in America than there were in Ireland. The English took all the good shite we grew and just left us with potatoes, and when the Blight happened, they were happy to let us starve." Well over a hundred and fifty years later, that was still a chip on the shoulders of the Irish, who really were capable of carrying a grudge and a half. Then again, when a million people starved to death for no reason, one could be forgiven for a centuries-long grudge.

Thranduil thought he was beginning to understand the sheer depth of the Irish loathing for all things monarchy. She had spoken of this before with vehemence, but she did it now almost blithely; the hatred was not a conscious choice, but an immutable part of their being.

Earlene wanted to respond but decided to save it for later; they'd be talking about this all day. Besides, once they had walked next door to Tisserie, the display case of things like spinach and cheese croissants and cinnamon rolls of delicate puff pastry had a way of pushing aside the Potato Famine, at least for awhile. She suggested that the ellyn order hot chocolate or almond milk, as they were assured of liking it; they could then try her mocha and know if they'd like to have that as a second course or on future days.

Lorna decided to tackle a latte, having never even seen one in her life. The thing was huge - apparently 'venti' meant much bigger than she'd thought - but it was sweet and creamy and went perfectly with her croissant. Rather like the pub, there was a newness to this place she didn't often find in Ireland; the floor was some dark hardwood that seemed remarkably un-scratched for the amount of business that came through it, the lamps suspended over the long counter very bright. Did people in the States have more vision problems than they did in Ireland, or was Ireland just unusually dim? Either way, she took a picture of the sign on the wall behind the counter: it was the bakery's name picked it out light bulbs, like an old-fashioned marquee. Still, while the pastries were incredibly good, they couldn't beat Mairead's baking. Mairead would be pleased.

The only trouble with lattes, she found, was the milk/foam mustache. She went through a few too many napkins trying to deal with that problem, until she finally gave up. The thing was so damn tasty that she definitely wanted another later. No wonder people yattered on about coffee.

While they were munching, Earlene checked her phone. In preparedness, both she and Lorna had conducted a major dodge to avoid nightmarish cell phone charges on this trip. "I still can't goddamn believe needing to pull a stunt like routing all my incoming messages to a Google number and shutting down data outside of wifi to avoid twenty dollar per MB data charges. Maybe I'll make a few phone calls and see who I can fucking sue, because I'd have a little too much fun prosecuting that case. Even if I'm totally full of hot air because it would mean being here for months on end to do that. But it sounds appealing," she fumed as she checked her email and their electronic tickets for the ferry and tours. Looking up, she saw Thanadir demolishing his baked goods and wanted so very badly to lightly pinch his cheek. Caress his cheek. Goddammit why did he have to be so cute? She tore her eyes away only to hear Thranduil chuckling at her. I can't help it, she said to her husband. It's like he has superpowers, or something. Does no other elf react to him this way? There was always hope that she was not alone.

We are accustomed to our own beauty, for lack of better words, meluieg. While I appreciate my seneschal in many ways, I am afraid this element from which you humans seem to suffer is missing, for me.

Well, consider yourself fortunate. "It's time to go, we have to get moving." They crossed the street for wrapped sandwiches for later, deciding to forego carrying drinks around. Earlene was already drooling at the lox, caper and cream cheese one she'd ordered, it had been forever since she'd had good lox. Or perhaps not precisely forever, but at least three or four months. Saaaaaaalmon. With Lorna obligingly stowing their food in her satchel, they descended into the 57th Street subway station to catch the R Line to Lower Manhattan. She demonstrated how to buy the tickets, and how to pass the turnstile before descending further to see the oh-so-familiar tiled walls of this vast transit system.

The subway fascinated Lorna, because she'd never seen one. Dublin had trains, but the ground was too marshy for anything like a subterranean system, and unlike New York, they didn't have pumps or retaining walls. Like everything else, it was huge, but she'd discovered if she stayed roughly between Thanadir and Thranduil when they were actually in motion, it was easiest. It didn't look this big in movies, nor did it echo as it did in real life.

What truly intrigued her was that it was exactly as Earlene had said: nobody was looking at anyone else. In Dublin you smiled and nodded to all you made eye contact with (especially if you were drunk), but somehow, these New Yorkers contrived to have privacy despite not actually having any at all. She took a few pictures of the station, because if she was going to be a tourist, she was going to really be a tourist, goddammit.

They creaked on for the better part of half an hour before finally getting to the Whitehall Street/South Ferry station. "This is it, unless we really want pizza in Brooklyn," she said, standing to get off. They ascended to the streets above, and shortly found themselves at the edge of the water. "This is where the Hudson and East rivers meet, and flow out to the Atlantic. We're more or less facing the Hudson," she explained. "There are more little islands than anyone really wants to count, all through this area. The first place we will go is Liberty Island; you can see the Statue already. That's what Lady Liberty looks like without M&Ms being involved," Earlene quipped sardonically.

"Before we get any further, hands," Lorna said, rifling through her bag until she found a bottle of hand sanitizer. She'd seen Contagion; she knew what fomites were, and she didn't want to carry some exotic strain of...of fungus, or something, back to Ireland with her. Because she was a movie junkie (there wasn't, after all, much else to do in prison, aside from read and let Tatiana badger Russian grammar into her), her strongest association with the Statue of Liberty was the Ghostbusters making her walk through Brooklyn. "She's made out'v oxidized copper, isn't she? She's not actually meant to be green, I think." She was pretty sure the Statue had been a present from...France? For some reason? Transporting and assembling something so large would be a feat even now; how the hell they'd done it a hundred-odd years ago, she couldn't imagine. "Sure a hell'v a lot more impressive than the Erection at the Intersection."

"I'm not sure," Earlene said. "I think the, uh, Erection is taller. But I will completely agree that given the choice, this is the one I'd rather look at for any length of time. And yeah, when it was first here it was brown-ish, before the copper turned to verdigris." They spread out along the rail of the ferry. Tourist season, if there was such a thing in a city that was such a magnet for visitors as this one, hadn't yet begun in earnest, and there were fewer people moving toward the monuments than would be the case later in the day. Something else occurred to her. "Is this your first time on water, i Hîr nin?" she asked Thanadir very quietly, after having learned the value of not allowing easy Sindarin phrases to be overheard in public after their experience with Ratiri.

"Not exactly," he smiled. I have been down the Anduin, a mighty river. But even that had no comparison to this...and certainly not to the great ocean we crossed to come here. I have never beheld salt water. But I imagine this looks very similar?"

"It does," nodded Earlene. "The only real difference is that here the surf, the water is not coming against the shore in waves. But the smell of the air; that is the smell coming in from the ocean." The ferry chugged along, and the usual kinds of prattle that caused Earlene to generally avoid people sailed through the air. 'Look honey, the boat is moving!' Is it really?! Who would have known without you to tell us that? 'Oh! Look! You can see Manhattan from here'! A opposed to, downtown London? And then her mental narrative paused. I'd better get used to it. Unless a miracle happens, I'm going to be saying exactly the same things, because children are on the way. What are the odds that mine will begin speaking in intelligent sentences? This time tomorrow, they'd be within minutes of meeting Aidan, and the thought made her stomach clench. Now that this encounter was almost upon her, it felt very different than when she was so far away, planning it. And that's because tomorrow, you actually have to lay eyes on the bastard, she thought.

Thranduil's arm came around her; his silky hair was streaming in the breeze. This only added to his striking appearance. While no one seemed to be staring too much, Earlene easily caught the appreciative glances being thrown in the King's direction. And you will not be alone, meluieg. Unless you strongly object, it is somewhat my intention to take control of that discussion. You will be introducing me as your husband; the more I speak directly to him, the further I will see into his intentions. We will not be leaving this meeting without any thought of his that bears on the matter being known to me.

Her eyes tracked some seabirds that sped past them over the water. For anything else, I probably would object on some level. But you have seen the worst of this, for me, and while it is not usual for me to admit weakness, this time I will. Everything that has passed between he and I is proving too hard to just forget. It will be as you wish, and with my gratitude. Her hand found his, and grasped it; lacing her fingers tightly into his.

Lorna was damn glad she'd thought to braid her hair, though her fringe whipped in her face anyway. The salt air reminded her much of Dublin, a taste of home in this foreign land, the sun glittering on the water making her squint. She snapped a few pictures of the approaching island, which looked so perfectly uniform she wondered if it was either man-made or man-altered. Looking at photographs, one didn't get a proper idea of the scale of the statue - seriously, how in bloody hell had it been shipped over the Atlantic in sailing ships? Even brought in pieces, it must have taken ages.

Christ, imagine passing that as an immigrant, she thought. It was impressive as hell even now, but back in the day, back before there was modern equipment to put her together, she must have been staggering. While she knew a few odd bits of trivia about the Irish in America, that was all she knew - they'd fled starvation and they'd had a shitty time of it. Typhoid Mary, she was Irish, wasn't she?

While she knew little of her da's family, if the rest of Mam's had been like Gran and Mairead, she suspected they'd rather have starved than left home. There was an old Irish song about the land's forty shades of green, and she couldn't imagine them giving it up for anything. "I'm pretty sure the French gave her to you lot in part as a thank you for...something, and in part as a way'v giving the English the finger," she said, turning to Earlene. "Though I could be wrong on that. We've always kind'v liked the French, because they hated the English so much."

"That might have been," Earlene pondered. "Given that they helped finance the Revolutionary War and probably saved our arses….er, America's arses…" she trailed off. It was yet very hard to remember, especially here, that her view of her own citizenship was at best scrambled eggs at the moment. On paper, of course she still was a US citizen...but the rest of it?

Thranduil saw the anxiety his wife felt from these thoughts, and recalled that this was not the first time this topic had crossed her mind. They'd never discussed it. He frowned. Even she would realize, this wasn't something that was discussed; he was a ruling King to whom she owed fealty. And yet now that he had seen a fraction of this great land, maps had told him the scale on which the rest of the world operated. This vast city was but a bare fragment of the nation whence Earlene came and it was many, many times larger than what was now called Ireland. He saw in her mind that because of the realities of her connection to the elves, nothing about her allegiance to him had to negate her rights here. And at the moment, her US citizenship might make certain things (the adoption of Allanah came to mind) a great deal easier. Meluieg, I owe you some answers, to set your mind at ease. I understand, perhaps somewhat better than before, that it is not an easy thing for you to disconnect from your past. That you came to me, gave your service to me, does not negate that this is the land of your birth and where you have spent nearly your entire life. I do not fault you for still feeling as though you belong here, nor your use of pronouns like 'us'', your sense of pride or even the patriotism you feel. None of those things threaten me. I only ask for what you have already promised; your service and your obedience. Smile at your flag, sing the songs of this land, have your opinions on the politics of this place you have called home; I take no offense nor do I forbid it. As long as you uphold your vows, the rest takes away nothing from me. I hope hearing this helps you.

Surprise washed over her; this was not what she would have expected him to say. It was utterly practical and a very generous concession and yes, it did help. Well I won't burst into the Star-Spangled Banner just now, but, thank you. I can feel less awkward. I would have thought that all that would matter more to you, somehow. You have ruled for so long…

You are confusing me with Thanadir, meluieg, he grinned. My seneschal might not see it in the same light as I do; however, it is not his decision. It became apparent to me that if I wished to move easily through your world, 'getting over myself,' as you humans would say, had to be accomplished. It caused me to reflect a great deal on what actually mattered.

Privately, she thought that showed a great deal of wisdom...but now it was time to disembark and admire this very large national icon. And somehow she still could not forget the damn M&Ms.

"I think you helped them at some point, too," Lorna said, "when they got rid'v their own…" Perhaps not a tactful thing to say - though the fact that she went and thought topped their own king anyway rendered it a bit moot. Eh, she tried for tact. Hopefully that counted for something; it wasn't like she wanted to sound like an arsehole, she was just naturally good at it. "Jesus...the scale'v her." Being Lorna, she naturally wanted to go and climb...something, but she was a responsible, forty-year-old adult, goddammit. Besides, everything here looked too tall anyway; even her time in the Halls hadn't made her immune to heights.

She glanced at the elves, wondering what they were making of this. Just how odd was it for them to see all the grand shite humanity had managed, without any outside help? Because if there was one thing she'd been getting from her reading of The Lord of the Rings, it was that humans kind of got shafted. There wasn't a single thing they could do that elves, dwarves, or both couldn't do better; they had the shortest lives, and were physically the least hardy, yet somehow they'd wound up the dominant...species? Not species, but whatever. It had to be at least a little bit surreal, since even what they'd seen of Dublin hadn't had anything on New York. The Erection at the Intersection, while very tall, was hardly a feat of engineering and construction. It was a damn spike. Lady Liberty, on the other hand, was a marvel.

"This way," said Earlene. "We have tickets for the Crown; we'll have to pretty much put everything in lockers that isn't a camera or a smartphone." Both ellyn looked at her, uncomprehending. "The Statue of Liberty is hollow," Earlene explained. "There are stairs, to climb to the top of it, inside. It isn't easy to get the permission to do it but…" she shrugged. "I always wanted to do this. Oh, and, I'm sorry, Fionn and Cian; you will have to be careful not to hit your heads; you are both taller than the available space. Back when this was built, next to no one reached your stature."

They were going all the way to the top? Oh dear. Well, for something so once-in-a-lifetime, Lorna could suck it up and climb the stairs - though if she wound up having to grab the back of someone's shirt, she wasn't going to be ashamed of it. So long as she didn't look down, she ought to be okay. Hopefully. She hoped the locker would prove big enough for her bag, and discovered that it was - barely. Any chance of that telepathic Xanax, Thranduil? Heights are not my friend, but I'd rather not wreck this for Earlene. Plus, if her friends in Baile found out she'd been to the statue but not gone up and brought back pictures, she'd never hear the end of it.

Thranduil smiled at her, not replying, for just then a National Park Service employee made a production of checking their identification against their tickets before waving them on. Take my hand, Lorna, she heard. They walked on briefly together, before arriving at the entrance to the narrow staircase. Go up in front of me. There is no means by which to fall over the side, and I will not allow you to fall backward. From what I can see of the construction of this, falling would be achieved only with some difficulty indeed. Earlene, who had a gleam in her eye much like that of a kid on a new set of monkey bars, had asked if she might go first, and they all soon saw why; she sprang lightly and eagerly up the stairs and disappeared quietly. This will be my biggest chance at aerobic exercise unless I go running, and I'm not missing it, she smiled gleefully. Unseen by her, Thanadir followed in both surprise and mild alarm. Thranduil chuckled and said silently, Take your time, Lorna. Earlene misses her exercise.

Lorna tried not to snort, and failed. She'd smoked for too many years to take the stairs like that, but she felt rather easier with Thranduil behind her. That the railings were so solid helped, too; it wasn't half so nerve-wracking as she might have thought, and the stairs weren't even too tall. Well, not by much, anyway. I've never seen the appeal of exercise, she said, plodding along. I've always been so active anyway that there wasn't much point. She could see why Earlene would want to; lawyering (if that was even a word) wasn't exactly heavy on cardio. Though I think poor Thanadir might have heart failure if he keeps seeing her on stairs. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate hearing it's adorable, but it really sort of is.

Thranduil sighed, wondering if he needed a less cute seneschal...he'd really had no idea that the humans were so fixated on this sort of thing. His heart is in excellent condition, along with the rest of him, he replied, narrowly missing hitting his head on the stair above him once again...he really must remember to focus on his surroundings. When did you say this statue was placed here? The higher he ascended, the more impressed he felt. How had they done it?

You lot are always in excellent condition, and it's not fair, Lorna said, though her thoughts were light enough. God, I know it was over a hundred years ago...I want to say the 1880's? I know they had to ship it in pieces, back when the only way we could power a ship was with wind and steam. They had to be near the top now, and the area remained mercifully closed-in. It would probably suck for someone with claustrophobia, but she didn't really have that issue. She wasn't fond of tiny spaces, but really, who was?

Earlene was happily trying to catch her breath, having forced herself to keep that pace all the way to the top. Her blood was pounding in her ears and it felt wonderful. She tried to think of something she might ask the Park docent that he had not already been asked a billion times, and nothing came to mind. But then, she thought of a different way to ask. "What interests you the most about this statue that few people know and no one ever bothers to ask?" she quizzed.

The ranger, who clearly bore up under this tedious duty without complaint, gazed at her in surprise. "Leave it to a native to ask a good one," he chuckled, taking note of the lilt of her speech. "Okay," he said, just as Lorna and Thranduil completed their ascent, "my favorite item of trivia is, that when they built this thing, they used three hundred different types of hammers to do it. How can you beat knowing that?"

Thanadir's eyebrows raised. "You cannot," he replied softly, deeply impressed. Not even he had that many hammers in their forge. They only had two hundred and nineteen, he thought, with a frown.

"I didn't know that many different types existed," Lorna said, hazarding a glance out the window and immediately regretting it. Drawing a deep breath, she took out her phone, fiddling with the camera until she was ready to look up again. "Here, you three - pose." Trying to get a decent angle of the city out of the crown - she didn't know whose idea it was to set it up as an observation deck, but it had been a phenomenal one - was surprisingly difficult, and Thranduil and Thanadir were so tall that she couldn't really get the shot around them anyway, but she had to try.

Earlene stepped out, asking to trade now with Lorna. Because she always had to be different, she asked for a different photo...she had them step away from the window, and set her camera to 'panoramic.' This would either work or fail, spectacularly. She positioned herself to begin the photo with her family, then transition to looking out of the crown. The result was weird and something she liked, and she felt it was a success. And just then, she heard the approaching steps of the next group of people. "We'll descend when they make it here," she said obligingly, to save the Ranger the trouble of asking.

"Manhattan?" he asked her, wanting to confirm her affiliation.

"And Queens," she smiled, answering. "But not anymore; I moved to Ireland, and this is my first trip back here with friends and family," she gestured.

"Yeah?" he said, suddenly animated. "My gran was from Ireland." He lowered his voice to near a whisper. "She said everything was a….you know, a…the c-word. I can't say that at work, but damn it was funny," he confided.

Lorna burst out laughing. "You're not Irish if you don't," she said, though to him it would have come out more like, "You're no' Ey-rish 'f y'don't."

The Ranger's eyes grew wide. "Sure God, I've not heard that brogue since I lost gran...I could listen to you all day long, lady. You've made my day, coming here," he said, as the next wave of four tourists ascended. "Safe travels, okay?" And with that, he waved them off with a wink. "Good luck."

"You too," Lorna said, unable to keep herself from grinning. Having an American actually in America understand her made her day, too - though she still insisted on going down behind the rest of them. It wasn't like she weighed much; if she tripped and fell, she wouldn't knock the lot of them down like bowling pins, but the stairs actually weren't as unpleasant as she'd expected, given how tall the statue was. When they reached the bottom, Earlene figured they had twenty minutes before the ferry to Ellis Island, so they all elected to use the time to stroll completely around the pedestal of the statue on the brick walkway.

Earlene held onto Thanadir's arm, as they walked alone, some distance ahead of Thranduil and Lorna. "Was there anything like this in your world, my Lord? I mean in the sense that, this statue was the first thing that a great many people saw when they risked everything to come to what they hoped was a better place. It was a beacon of hope, for thousands. I do not know enough about the Eldar to know if some similar thing exists for you?"

The seneschal considered. This was another very good question. "Long ago there were the Havens, out of which our people departed for the West, for our home in Aman. But it was not really the same as this Statue. And yet it held the idea of returning to our true place in the world," he said wistfully.

"Do you ever regret that you stayed here?" she asked carefully, with great respect in her voice.

He did not respond for many seconds. "No...and yes, Earlene. I mean no offense, but I am not sure you can understand."

"None is taken, Hîr vuin." She might not understand with the depth of one who had lived so long, but the idea of trying to find the place in the world in which one was meant to be? I understand nothing but that, she thought, as she looked up at the unmoving verdigrised visage that always gazed across the ocean, as if waiting for something.

* * *

"America's...not what I expected," Lorna said thoughtfully, looking out over the water. "It is, and it isn't. It's big and loud and...and young. I don't know a lot'v the history, but I do know that most'v the people who came here over the years were desperate - it wasn't just the starving Irish. In most'v Europe, it wasn't - it wasn't like it is now. If you were born poor, you were going to live and die poor. You had no future, because the nobs made sure you wouldn't, because they were selfish, rich fuckers who didn't care about anyone who wasn't like them. So they came here with next to nothing, because yeah, they might fail here, too, but at least they had a chance. It was more than they were going to get back home. I'm not sure it's something your lot - elves, I mean - would understand. From what I've read so far, you're not greedy like humans can be."

Thranduil glanced down at her. "Generally, no, but that assessment is not so clear-cut as you might imagine. Greed and envy, wrath and desperation have marked our time in this world as well. Not all who had wealth were bad, just as not all who did not were good. I hope I have made a little bit of a difference, in how you view these matters. I cannot make up for the sum of what has befallen your people. But I have tried, and will keep trying," he said. "I feel it is the least I can do." Looking up, he saw that Earlene and Thanadir were beckoning them to hurry a little; apparently they wanted to board the ferry that was to depart imminently.

"You're not human," Lorna pointed out, managing to speed up without actually jogging. "Your entire society's not like any human one, so right off you've got an advantage. I really doubt you lot've ever done to us anywhere near the shite we've done to each other. I'm almost afraid for you and Thanadir to study our history - if you really knew some'v what we've done in the past, you might not want anything to do with us. Sure, it doesn't happen anymore, but it shouldn't have happened in the first place." From everything she'd gathered from her reading, some of the elves had been assholes and done horrible shit, but they probably hadn't burned one another alive over different interpretations of the same damn holy book (which didn't even have any actual proof that it was holy, except for some guy saying so), or enslaved each other (and justified it by that same holy book...there was a reason Lorna had issues with organized religion), or...well. The list went on.

It was a quarter-hour ferry ride to their next stop, and they had tickets for what was called the 'Hard Hat Tour,' one that would tell extensively about the hospital that had existed on Ellis island; they had the 11am time slot. Once they arrived, there was still a little time to kill, so they spent it looking in the museum and archives. There were computer terminals that offered access to the vast database of millions of arrivals at this place. For giggles, Earlene sat down. "Allanah Donovan", she typed in, knowing that this was gran's maiden name. She didn't really expect to find much, but did it anyway. She was here, wasn't she? And it would be neat, really neat, to know something like the name of the ship that brought gran and her family here. The results came up right away...there was gran's name, written in a ledger with the rest of the family. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed to the rest of them that were nearby, returning to the screen. "This is…." Earlene's heart dropped right through her, as she stared at the record. Her gran was Allanah, age 3 years, and there were her parents, Eíthne and Pádraig; which she'd not known. There it was, June 1, 1912. But there was also the record of another child. A son, aged 8 years. Aidan Donovan. He'd failed the medical exam; there was a symbol next to his name on another record of a circle with an "X" in the middle of it; that stood for 'definite signs of mental disease observed.' And this little boy had been denied entry. He'd been sent back to Ireland, alone, and her family had remained. Tears sprang to her eyes. I knew Aidan had been named at gran's request, but this….this….how could no one have talked about this? Had her own father known? What had ever become of this poor little boy, who assuredly had been the victim of institutionalized discrimination? How could any eight year-old boy be 'definitely mentally diseased,' with what they didn't know about psychiatry at that time? And to have travelled all the way back, all alone… Earlene tried to blink back her tears, not wanting to cause a scene. Aidan Donovan, no doubt long dead.

Thranduil came over quickly, realizing everything, but was careful to not make it worse. He placed his hand on her shoulder. I am sorry, meluieg.

She did not respond, wishing only to bottle up the emotional impact of what she had learned. Or at the very least, not be reacting to it publicly. It took her a moment, but she mastered herself. And that was all the time it took for Lorna to have responded to her initial outburst, and come over. "I found my gran's record," Earlene said, in a voice that did not reveal her inner turmoil. "I didn't know that this is where she arrived. On the S.S. George Washington; the next ship to bring new arrivals here after the Titanic sailed. They'd traveled from Belfast to Southampton, to make this sailing. Jesus Christ, it was all true."

It occurred to Lorna that Earlene's family had luck on its side, at least in two cases: her gran dodged the Titanic, and she dodged 9/11...two of the biggest disasters of the modern world. Peering over Earlene's shoulder, her eyebrows went up. "I didn't know your gran was a Donovan," she said. "My great-granddad was an Aidan." The two women stared at each other. Neither were uncommon Irish names, but it was still a bit weird.

"Honestly I'd forgotten about it myself until I sat down here. But...it can't be. I mean, that's almost like 'John Smith' in the States, right? The odds against it are crazy." Though, now Earlene was not going to stop from wondering. Impossible, she told herself.

Lorna shook her head. "No, it's nowhere near that common," she said. "I don't know much about my da's family. They didn't approve'v him. I do know my gran tried to get us taken away from him at one point, but my damned mother wouldn't testify against him." Lorna had loved her mother, but the woman had been downright delusional in thinking Da was anything other than a waste of humanity who deserved everything he got in the end. If Mam had let them get out of that bloody house long before...but there was no use thinking about it now. It really was weird, though, especially since, if her math was right, her great-granddad would have been somewhere around that age at that point. Da's family had kids young even by Irish standards; her gran had been seventeen when she had him. The odds were ridiculous, but Lorna was curious enough to check when they got home. While it probably wasn't that Aidan Donovan, she wouldn't be surprised if there was a connection in there somewhere. (If there was, she could never, ever tell Mairead. Mairead would want to throw some 'welcome to the family' party, it would be a nightmare.)

Glad that it was time for their tour, Earlene rose with her head spinning. It just...no. It couldn't be. As their tour led them through the frankly creepy bowels of what had been an unimaginably large hospital complex, she began to hear more than she ever wanted to know about the history of how new arrivals were 'medically processed.' Some of it was that certain diseases just weren't curable; this was the era before the invention of antibiotics and so things like trachoma and scarlet fever, that nowadays people barely even knew of, were serious problems. But then the story led into a tale of prejudice and anti-immigrant hysteria, as it so typically did. And yet it was coupled with many stories of extreme compassion. It was...heartbreaking.

And over a hundred years later, wasn't she hearing the same shit in the news, with the anti-immigrant vitriol some were spewing? Her day here was taking on a tone of being completely surreal. Thranduil had long since shifted to her side, probably having instructed Thanadir to pay attention to Lorna. You don't have to fuss over me, you know. I'll be okay, it's only that learning this about my family…

Was unwelcome and shocking, he finished for her. Especially in view of your meeting tomorrow.

Something like that, she admitted.

Meluieg, you are my wife, my other half. I will fuss all I like.

Yes, my King, she answered reflexively as she leaned against him. But a smile came with it.

Lorna really didn't quite know what to make of this. Oh, she'd known immigrants had it shitty in America, but she hadn't known you could be stuck back on the boat and sent home for whatever reason the staff dreamed up. How many of the Irish were like little Aidan, and got sent back to starve? Sending back a child, all alone, whether or not he had anyone to take him in once he got there - it just went to show that as cruel as people could be, they were even worse back then. Or at least, she'd like to believe so.

All these diseases, though - Ratiri should be here. He'd find it fascinating, but she just found it tragic. Most of these could be cured by antibiotics now, but back then they could get you tossed back onto the ship and sent home again. Trachoma...eurgh. She really could have done without seeing a video of the 'treatment' for that, and wound up rubbing her own eyes in sympathy.

Glancing at Thanadir, she really wished she could communicate with him telepathically, too. And wasn't that just weird: the telepathy had been a horrifying concept at first, but now she just viewed it as useful. She wanted to ask him if he found the idea of having to get approval to go somewhere - such weird, often arbitrary approval - was weird to him, given that she couldn't imagine elves ever doing such a thing to one another, even if they actually had been susceptible to disease.

When the all-too-informative tour was over, everyone agreed that eating their sandwiches was a good idea, though each of them in their own way wished to digest more than just food. Thanadir had taken away that this place had been a marvel of efficiency with some very unfortunate tangents that were both immoral and cruel. But as seneschal, he knew full well of the difficulty of managing so many needs for so many people. It was not simple, at all, and that these Edain had managed it in some fashion, with their limited resources and lack of anything resembling medicine...it was phenomenal. Millions had come through here; a number he could barely comprehend.

The King, for his part, pondered the vagaries of why this place existed. Yes, this nation had welcomed those who sought a better life. But it had hardly been altruism; these people were wanted for the same reason Sauron had wanted orcs. Laborers, bodies; a workforce to be used to best advantage with no regard for suffering or the lives of others. And yet nothing about it had been simple, either. Had elves been so different? Noldor against Teleri, who in turn had disdain for the Moriquendi? None of it had gone as Eru intended, and the answers did not lie with him.

"Christ, now what?" Lorna asked. "That's one hell'v a lot to digest, and I don't just mean the sandwiches. It must've been so much easier for everyone when they could just land somewhere on the shore and go do whatever they felt like doing." On the other hand, they probably would have died of scurvy on the ship over back in the 1700's, but still. At least they wouldn't have to have a doctor examine their junk while they stood in a long line of other people.

"We can look at the rest of what's in the visitor center and whatnot...but there is now no timetable. When we're done, we take the ferry back to Manhattan, and I'll show you some other things on this side of town."

Lorna stretched, and somehow managed not to burp. (Seriously, this was a legitimate effort. Normally, after a good sandwich, she'd just let one fly, but nope, she was in public. Dammit.) "You have to wonder if the people who work here don't go home drained at the end'v the day," she said, gathering up her trash. "Under the weight'v this history - it's not been very long, but there's sure a hell'v a lot there. I'd be afraid'v the memories." She almost said 'ghosts', but ghosts wasn't quite what she meant. Some things, she was sure, imprinted; a lot of hope, a lot of fear, and a lot of pain had been jammed through here in a huge concentration, and in a relatively short amount of time.

"I would think that you learn not to think about it, just like any other unpleasant part of any job," Earlene reflected. Collectively they rose up, looked around some more, and decided all at the same time that they'd seen enough. By two o'clock, they were back to Manhattan. "We'll just take the sights here from one side to the other," she said, and began leading them from Battery Park up West Street, at a leisurely pace, to Fulton, where the massive One World Trade Center loomed overhead.

"Is that where we're going?" Lorna asked, pointing. She'd known it was on their itinerary, but not just what day they'd be there. Her dreams were going to be full of New York history, distant and recent. She'd have plenty of things to email to Ratiri tonight.

"I thought you might like to ease into everything about this place on the positive side. You've only really heard much from me about everything that went wrong and went to hell. This is the other side of it; the collective will to raise this tower out of the ashes of what was. And even if none of that matters, it's impressive as hell and the views are amazing. There is an observatory at the hundredth floor; that's where we are going. It's only been open about a year."

The hundredth floor...Lorna didn't laugh, but it was a near thing. At least she could find more things to email Ratiri, provided they allowed photography inside. "Will they want to dig through my bag before we go in?"

"I'd guess there will be something," Earlene said. "Anymore, if the building even vaguely matters at the very least someone wants to glance at your stuff or have you pass through a metal detector." It turned out to be fairly benign, and soon they were inside of a frankly amazing elevator ride high into the sky. Earlene smiled; the speed of the elevator was damn impressive. As was what was happening; the elevator walls via technological wizardry took on the appearance of the outside world, and as they ascended a time lapse portrayal of the city since the 1500s commenced. Thanadir was astonished, and for whatever weirdness she'd just endured at Ellis Island, seeing the old elf so enraptured by this ascent placed a smile on her face.

Lorna, by contrast, was plastered against the doors, eyes resolutely shut. Yeah, it was an illusion, but it was a very realistic illusion, and her brain stubbornly refused to acknowledge the difference, and the speed of the thing did not help. Her stomach and everything else in her seemed to lurch about two inches left, which, given everything she'd just eaten, was rather less than pleasant. Thranduil placed his arm around her, making a mental note that once they descended from this attraction, his wife might want to consider limiting the number of things they did that involved "up." While recognizing that being in this city hardly made that a simple task, surely there was something they could do to help their acrophobic friend. Take my arm, he asked Lorna. At the very least, he could keep her from feeling...how she felt.

Lorna had come quite a long way; where once she'd been highly reticent to touch him at all, she now shamelessly clung to his arm like a barnacle. Which probably looked extremely stupid, but she was beyond not caring. When you're as short as I am, heights suck, she said. They're unfamiliar anyway. Stick somebody my size in something that goes this high, this fast...actually, I'm just a wuss, but I've got to try to justify it somehow. She managed a smile, at least, mind momentarily taken off the fact that they were hurtling into the air.

There is no need, he smiled. And the good news is, Earlene tells me this is the best elevator in the entire city. Which, given that they were already at the 102cnd floor, might actually be true. A somewhat strange video that portrayed a diversity of city scenes later, they were allowed to descend one floor to enjoy the actual observatory. Earlene fished out her phone. This was where to take some photos; the view beat that of the over-touted Empire State Building.

Releasing her death-grip on Thranduil's arm - seriously, it was a good thing elves didn't bruise easily - Lorna relaxed and took out her phone, snapping away. She had Earlene and the Elves (still going to be a band, dammit) pose before the windows, doing what she could to minimize backlighting. This was all going in her scrapbook, and the one she was making for them. If she emailed them to Mairead, Mairead would share them with Baile, and save her the hassle.

Earlene spent most of her time on the side facing east, looking out. And down. It was still unreal, that they had been so big, and they were gone. Those massively huge, huge, buildings, gone. And replaced. She shook her head. They'd not learned a damn thing from the Titanic. Or from anything, maybe. While she could not fault the ambition, it would never bring back her friends. Those black pools were beneath her feet, now, looking as deep as she remembered them. Thranduil's eyes widened. He did not wish to leave Lorna, but now...by Eru, he had not known that sightseeing could be this volatile. He silently asked Thanadir to go to Earlene, and the seneschal sidled alongside her.

"The buildings, in the elevator ride. The ones that came and went so quickly. Those were….?"

Earlene smiled. He gained points for being diplomatic, at least. "Yes. They were right here. You see the black pools, down there? That is where they stood."

Nothing further was said, as his arm came around her and pulled her against him. I am sorry, Earlene, she heard.

The voice in her mind broke her reverie. You need not do this, Thanadir. I know it is very difficult for you.

It is not more difficult than what you have faced here, when you were always alone, Earlene. You are alone no longer, and with my years, I reserve the right to express that to you any way I choose.

A laugh escaped her in spite of herself, and she leaned her head into his chest. Very well, my Lord. I will not presume to argue the point.

Good.

Her arm wound around his waist. Not alone any longer. It's a nice change in circumstances.

"Oh, doesn't that young couple look adorable!" whispered one lady of advanced years to her friend as they passed.

Earlene rolled her eyes and shook her head. Today, she just gave no fucks about that.

As much as Lorna would really rather not approach that window, she knew she wasn't actually going to fall out - and if Earlene could do it, so could she, dammit. To be in this place - to be here and be okay with it - meant she really did have to be as healed as Lorna herself was.

She's okay, right? she asked Thranduil, just to be safe, and then just about choked on her own spit when she overheard the old lady's remark. She wasn't exactly surprised - platonic friends in modern society usually weren't that tactile - but still. Maybe it was just her, but Thanadir almost seemed to have a deliberate air of...not androgyny, but something similar. He didn't project any kind of sexuality at all - and as someone who'd spent many years deliberately being as sexless as possible, she knew it when she saw it. Exactly how annoyed are you all going to get if that keeps happening?

Thranduil grinned. Do we look annoyed? And yes, Earlene is okay. She is...remembering.

Earlene saw them in her peripheral vision and held out her other arm for them to join her. Though, she wasn't delusional, she just assumed that Thranduil would take her other side because Lorna just wasn't that tactile.

Under most other circumstances, Lorna would have let Thranduil be the one to reach Earlene first, but, though she could be awkward as all hell, Lorna did want to be supportive. She cared, even if she was shitty at showing it ninety percent of the time, so she took Earlene's hand with nary a twitch.

Turning her head, mild disbelief quickly transformed to a smile of appreciation as she regarded her friend. "We can go see them now, or we can come back another day; the museum is a bigger undertaking so either way we'll likely be here again," she said softly. Unbeknownst to her, Thranduil knew that she herself would prefer to go visit the pools now, and manipulated group consensus in her favor. When they'd all photographed and looked at landmarks long enough, they returned to the street level and rounded the corner to enter the 9/11 Memorial. But not before Earlene bought a half-dozen flowers to take in with her.

Lorna cast a glance at the elves, knowing god damn well that neither would actually say anything if they were having any kind of - of psychic problems, or whatever. And because they wouldn't, there was nothing she could do, but she gave both of them a leery eye anyway before following Earlene - Earlene, the one person she wasn't worried about right now.

The pools, even at a distance, were so strangely peaceful. Lorna remembered, vaguely, that before they'd decided to build them, there had been the towers of light, and wondered why they'd switched. Maybe because walking among two giant squares of searchlights was hardly serene. The sound of the trickling water was loud enough to drown out the background noise of the city, and it was so very surreal, standing on the site of a nightmare she'd watched play out on a TV five thousand miles away. There was no trace of that nightmare now; all that remained was memory.

Earlene took the three of them across the rather large open area to a particular tree and said "This is the Survivor. The same one as in my picture, at home. The only living thing to have made it through the collapse of the towers." She smiled to see how healthy it looked; it was always a little larger at each visit she'd made over time. And then she held out her hand to Thranduil. It's on account of what you've done for me that for the first time ever I can do this without it tearing my insides apart. Would you like to walk with me? She explained also to Lorna and Thanadir what she was going to do, and that they were welcome to come, and welcome to spend their time here as they chose; she only did not wish for them to feel excluded.

Thranduil took her hand. He was astonished, that being here was not at all what he had feared. It was peaceful, and calm to him. Serene, even. Nothing could be more different than the feelings that came to him in this place, compared to the...they really were going to have to assign a better name to it than The Object, he thought. He let himself be guided by her, as one by one he saw the names he remembered. Alika Kahale. Mary Smith. Dina Ricci. Steven Williams. Parshu Srivastav. Sara Flaherty. A flower was laid over each name. After the last one, a single tear fell, before she turned to him. Thank you, for all that you have given me, Thranduil. Thank you. For healing my past, and for giving me a future. I used to wish I could fall into this pool and sink into those holes until I would just disappear. Not to feel that any longer...I do not have enough words for my gratitude.

You are welcome, meluieg. It was my privilege.

She stood with him for a little longer, watching the water. "Come," she said finally, with a smile. "There is more to see."

The walls of the pools were tall, nearly chest-high on Lorna, and she ran her fingers over the names, the stone cool beneath them. That each was a person who had lost their life here, and broken someone's heart...she hoped the survivors could do what Earlene was doing, and actually find peace here.

"Watching this was unreal," she said. "It was the only time the rec room was completely silent. They thought the first one was an accident, see - that the plane's guidance had gone horribly wrong. Then the second one hit." She'd thought it horrifying on television; she couldn't imagine witnessing it firsthand. "I would've thought this place would feel - well, like something horrible happened here. I wouldn't've expected this."

"I too feared that being here would be difficult," said Thanadir softly. Even though he had just see the images of the mighty buildings, it reached the limits of his comprehension that such large, large objects could be gone. And yet, here they all stood.

They filed out, each with their own thoughts, and went a few blocks over. "It was stupid, and improbable, but I cannot help that I really liked the movie National Treasure. Remember the church, at the end, and the treasure was down in the bowels of it somehow? This is the church." She led them to the doors of Trinity Church, before something else occurred to her. "This is a place of worship for those who believe in the Christian religion," she explained to the ellyn. "It is fine to enter, but it is respectful to not speak or speak very softly, and to behave with decorum that shows regard for anyone who might be praying or doing….religion things."

"Is it?" Lorna asked. "One of the what, three decent movies Nicholas Cage has ever done? Beautiful church, though." She hadn't been inside a church since Gran's funeral, but she suspected prayer was prayer, and you just tiptoed around it, no matter what. At least there were only three rather shallow steps; after Lady Liberty, Lorna was a bit done with stairs for a while.

It was a lovely building - a small cathedral, really, rather than a church, and a decent replica of something medieval. The long lines of arched windows were probably twice her height, the pews shiny, but it didn't smell like church back home: the Episcopalians must not be big on incense. The stained-glass window at the very end was as elaborate as anything you were likely to find in Ireland, though.

She inevitably felt guilty going into church, just because she'd only ever gone when someone wanted her to go to confession, and she had such a laundry list of shite to confess it almost wasn't fair to the poor priest. Gran made her go not long after she'd moved to Baile, and the expression on Father Flannery's face when she confessed to beating a bloke unconscious with a push-broom...well, the man had never looked at her quite the same since.

When they left, Earlene shrugged. "It seems strange, taking anyone from Europe here, because an incredibly old church by American standards is still a joke anywhere else. But at least the windows are pretty," she opined.

Thanadir was confused. "I do not understand what the building is used for," he said. "It is lovely, and must have been a great work to build. But what does it do?"

Earlene took a breath to answer, but then bit her lip, looking at Lorna as if to say, How would you explain it?

"Churches are...well, most religions have got an equivalent, but basically, churches are where people meet up to do religious things," Lorna said. "Pray, and listen to sermons, which usually involve some bloke reading out'v a book, depending on the religion. Way back when, long before this one, people poured all their money and work into churches and church things because life sucked so badly they were counting on a good afterlife. Unfortunately, it meant that for far too long, they weren't paying attention to making this one any better." She really didn't want to tell Thanadir just how many people had murdered one another over a damn book - or at least, not out here. "You lot, you know where you go when you die. We don't, and a lot'v us can't stand that, so we find something to believe. Whether it's good for us, anyone else, or not."

"That sums up what could be a very long discussion," Earlene concurred. "As you can tell, some of us no longer believe in that sort of thing. But many still do. There was a time, not so long ago, when to not belong to some kind of faith was to risk total ostracism. You could be thought bad, evil, just for not believing as others do, even though most of them can't find much to agree on. But our world is changing; in countries like this one many are abandoning religion. And yet in other places, people are turning to it more and more...and those tend to be places where life isn't too good right now."

And next came into view a sight Earlene was sure Lorna would adore. "Just don't rub his balls. It's all I ask," she said laughing. The Wall Street Bull.

While Lorna did not actually squee, she certainly did in her mind. Fishing her phone out of her bra, she handed it to Earlene. "I need a picture," she said, passing her bag to Thanadir (no way was she just setting it down, not even on Wall Street). Figuring out how to scramble up onto the thing took a minute, since it was so smooth there was nothing to grip. Thranduil, help, she said. While she could theoretically jump, she'd look like an utter eejit if she couldn't actually grip anything. (And that was not, in fact, what she said.)

Chuckling, Thranduil tossed her lightly to the creature's back, where other tourists immediately began to click away at seeing such a tiny woman riding a bull and...Earlene bit the inside of her cheeks, hoping past hope that no one would yell any obscene encouragements at Lorna. And before that could happen and cause a scene or worse, Earlene hurriedly snapped a photo of her.

Far too delighted, Lorna half-slid, half-fell off the bull's neck, giving it a pat and trying not to cackle. "I'm printing that and putting it on my wall," she said, retrieving phone and bag. "Just because I have to." And no, she was not going to take a picture of its bollocks. Siobhan would just have to live with the disappointment.

"What is this place?" asked Thanadir, looking up at the New York Stock Exchange.

"Sadly, what goes on in that building arguably causes the world to turn," Earlene said. "That is the financial heart of this entire country; a place where businesses trade securities. It is a way of exchanging money, but on an unimaginably large scale and not just within this nation. Everywhere. There are other institutions like it in a few other places in the world, but this is a big one. When things go badly here, they go badly for the world." Earlene knew that even though that was the answer, it was not a good one. How did one explain the artificial manure pile of corporate finance to someone whose transactions took place for years with gems and metals? He could learn, certainly, but why he would wish to bother was beyond her. "I am sorry, because I know my answer is not helpful. If you truly wish to learn about all of this, I am happy to show you, later, but we would need some time." And yet for all that goes on here, the wealth that is in your vault would make this entire place take pause and notice, she shared with her husband.

They rounded the corner past the Trump Building, which she pointed out with a certain measure of disgust before they headed up Broadway.

Lorna grimaced. "He looks like a Cheeto," she said. "With a ferret on his head." Among other unsavory things, really. "Seriously, how can a man with that much money walk around with a five-euro spray tan and hair that looks like something you'd scrape off the side'v a motorway?"

"We'd all like an answer to that, trust me. The way this election is shaping up...honestly, though I still could vote, I don't think I'm going to, unless Sanders somehow makes it. And with our media and the way things are going here...that doesn't look too likely. I'll count my blessings that I'm under a different government these days," she said. "I mean, at least Fionn's got good hair."

Thranduil was not sure he wished to know why his hair could matter to his rulership, or what a Cheeto or ferret were.

"And his eyebrow game is strong," Lorna added solemnly. Because if she was going to be in America, she might as well say something American.

"I'm taking us to ogle the Brooklyn Bridge, which is more or less on the way to my old office," she explained. "Though if you see anything you find interesting, do tell."

Brooklyn...Lorna didn't want to admit that she had a bit of a location-crush, mainly thanks to Ghostbusters and Captain America. Her feet were going to utterly hate her by the end of the day - her sandals, which had seemed so comfortable this morning, were rapidly losing their cushiness, and she suspected she'd be soaking her feet in a hot bath once they were back to the hotel room. The heat was also getting to her a bit, though she doubted anyone who wasn't Irish and used to living under chilly clouds would have an issue with it. Her outer tunic, so welcome on the boat ride to Liberty Island, wound up tied around her waist, as she'd worn flannel shirts as a teenager (yes, grunge had made it to Ireland).

They meandered around through streets that seemed a little less interesting, though Earlene pointed out things Lorna had heard of, like the Federal Reserve Bank and they even walked up Pearl Street so that Earlene could pass Titanic Memorial Park. "D'you remember Unsinkable Molly Brown?" she asked. "This place got put up at her insistence, to remember those who died. A 60 foot lighthouse in the middle of traffic. Go figure, eh?" Of course, Pearl Street not only took them behind her office building, it also avoided a variety of restaurants. They wouldn't stay long; she felt guilty because surely Thanadir was starving by now.

"Of course it did," Lorna said, laughing. "She wasn't born with money, so she still actually had a soul. And when I say shite like that, you two, I'm talking about how rich humans suck. You're exempt."

They all walked into the lobby, and it took maybe ten seconds for the security guard to rush up to Earlene with a near sob of enthusiasm. "You came back!" the man gushed. He seemed to be around Earlene's age, neatly uniformed, with an 'everyman' look about him.

With a laugh, she hugged him back. "I had to, John. I missed you too much. That and, I couldn't get a decent cup of coffee," she joked. Thranduil's eyebrow raised, to which Earlene was oblivious. He could see rather quickly that while this individual was among many his wife had greeted daily, the poor man had desperately wished that there might have been more, though he had never spoken a word to Earlene. "My humor aside, I am here being a tourist, with my family. This is my husband Fionn, my brother-in-law Cian, and my good friend Lorna. Please meet John, who kept us all safe these many years," she beamed. The crestfallen look on the man's face passed quickly, and he dissembled well when he shook their hands, looking at Fionn with thinly concealed envy.

"You've married, Earlene?" he asked softly, not wanting to believe his ears.

"Love at first sight, John," she quipped, as she took her husband's arm and looked up at Thranduil adoringly. "Please excuse us, we've only a few minutes. We're just popping in to say hello and be on our way. But it is good to see you," she said with conviction before turning to leave. She ushered them all to the elevator, and hit the button for the twenty-fifth floor.

Lorna looked at Thanadir, wondering if he'd spotted what she'd spotted. Thranduil would know for sure - but if there actually was something to spot, clearly Earlene never had. Poor bloke...unrequited feelings were a bitch and a half, and even worse, Lorna suspected, when you worked with the person. She counted herself extremely bloody lucky Ratiri was as much of an awkward, if earnest, dork as she was about what they'd got going. Whatever it even was; she still hesitated to give it a name. This poor John would probably spend God knew how long kicking himself for never saying anything, though he'd likely had good reason not to. Dating people you worked with tended to be a no-no no matter where you were.

Lorna heard Thranduil, in the elevator. Earlene has no idea, he said, his voice tinged with sympathy. But even if she had, it would have made no difference. Just then the door opened, to reveal long, carpeted hallways and fluorescent lights. They walked along, until coming to a very formal, and very expensive looking set of double glass doors, with the brass placard stating "Law Offices of Oehlert, Darst, Bernardi and Tisdale" tastefully mounted thereon. Earlene opened the doors and walked into the reception area where two women both squealed her name in what was probably a very unprofessional (but very quiet) manner. There were hugs all around, and further astonishment that she was here. All were introduced yet again, but this time it was Lisa and Selena. "Is Mr. Oehlert in?" Earlene asked. "We only wanted to say hello. Ten minutes, tops." The one called Lisa checked a computerized calendar and picked up a telephone, hanging up quickly.

"It's your lucky day, Earlene. He's not only got twenty minutes free, rumor has it he just went to your old office. No one's filled your shoes," she said, beaming and waving them through. What only Thranduil had the hearing to catch, as they filed along, was the woman muttering sadly, "No one can fill your shoes."

A few seconds later they were at a door that still bore her brass nameplate, which Earlene silently pushed open. "Missed me too much, eh, John?" she teased. An extremely well-manicured gentleman who could have been anywhere from fifty to sixty-five years of age stood up from the stack of files he'd been examining with astonishment and greeted her warmly, looking on the rest of them with wonder. He radiated confidence, and power. "Please excuse the informal dress. We were out playing tourist. John, these are my family and friends. You may as well be the first to hear, I've married. This is my husband Fionn…" These introductions were going to get made a lot, she realized all of a sudden. She did not miss the way in which each of her entourage was scrutinized; behind that friendly exterior existed an analytical machine whose powers rivaled her own. It was with a vague sense of relief that she saw, all of them had 'passed inspection.'

"Then let me offer my sincere congratulations to you and Mr….?"

"Sullivan, John. We kept it simple," she smiled, knowing full well that he was trying like mad to comprehend how cool and calculating Earlene was suddenly married.

"I need not tell you then, that you have the rarest of treasures," the lawyer said looking at Thranduil with respect.

"You do not," Thranduil said warmly, firmly returning both the man's gaze and handshake, and liking what he saw.

"Rumor has it you were roped into Sandrgraust's party later this week, Earlene," he teased.

"That would be true. We're all roped into it, because where I go, they go. But I hope we won't disappoint; I'm not planning to stay too long. I genuinely can't say when I'll be back on these shores, and we're trying to make the most of our time."

"Understood," he said. "Though, I think you'll find there will be more than a few characters at this one; our esteemed client has been keeping some interesting company these days," he said with a frown. "It was gracious of you to be willing to come and, I won't lie, you're making us look good. But listen to me. It was so kind of you to come see me here, and if I may say so, your unpaid work for us continues to be of the highest caliber," he grinned and winked.

"Anything for you, John," she returned demurely. They went waaaaay back; he was like a father to Earlene, and she owed much of her success to his insistence that she be given the opportunities to prove herself.

"Lorna, may I ask where in Ireland you are from?" he asked unexpectedly, suddenly turning his full attention to her.

"Dublin," Lorna said, somehow managing not to utterly freeze under the stare of eek, a lawyer! A non-Earlene and thus scary lawyer, even if he did look like somebody's warm old uncle. "I moved out to a little village called Baile eleven years ago, but I grew up in the south side'v Dublin." Now to see if any of them could make heads nor tails of that one.

The man's face split into a huge grin. "My Gran on my mother's side was Irish. County Cork. You've no idea how good it is to hear you speaking," he said wistfully. "She passed on many years ago."

"It's good to be understood," Lorna said. "I'm sorry she's gone. Nobody who hasn't had an Irish Gran knows what they've missed out on. I sometimes swear all Irish Grans are really the same woman." Anyone who had known multiple Irish grandmothers had probably suspected the same thing.

"I know you have appointments, John, so we'll take our leave...and perhaps see you at this esteemed function?" Earlene smirked.

"You may count on it," he smiled, shaking all of their hands one last time. And in a flash they were making their way elsewhere. Departing the building, Thranduil was deep in thought. He unquestionably liked this man, who was the closest thing to….himself, he had yet met in the human world. John Oehlert was clearly a man of great influence and wealth, but what his wife might have never realized was the sheer regard this man had for her. He'd given Earlene nothing, except the opportunity to show her worth, and had been rewarded both personally and professionally on account of it; his quip about her 'unpaid work' had not entirely been in jest. Her influence was still felt, here. What had taken him unawares more than anything were the man's thoughts from the moment he looked back at the King with the new understanding that they were wed. It was a pure distillation of wonder...wonder that revolved around whether this giant blond man in front of him had any idea of the treasure he possessed. He wasn't an idiot; of course he valued Earlene, just as he loved her. But maybe he was having to see other sides of this subject that were previously hidden from him. Earlene was as unknown in Ireland as he himself was. Only here, for the first time, was he seeing her through the lens of those who knew her.

It was a bit of a hike, but many blocks later, they stopped outside of a generally uninteresting building on the corner of Washington Street. A bronze placard on the side said "Triangle Shirtwaist Factory (Asch Building)" and that it was a Historical marker. Earlene explained. "So this is another piece of my family history I've not told you of, and that I saved especially for you, Lorna. Yesterday you saw that my gran's mam was Eithne. She had a sister, Carmel Reilly, who worked in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, that used to be in the top floors of this building. She was one of only a few Irish employed there, and therefore one of the few that knew a word of English. Ever heard of it?"

It did ring a bell, actually. "Was it a fire, or something?" Lorna asked. "I think it was a fire. I know they were all locked in, so a load'v women couldn't get out, and died there. Did she…?" She didn't finish the sentence, though she wasn't sure why. It was so long ago that it was likely past mourning.

"Yes. It was March 25, 1911. And that Carmel survived the fire is what let gran and her parents come here, the following year. Had she died, they wouldn't have had their sponsor, and their place to live. But out of 500 women that worked here, 146 of them died in the fire. The story that came down to me was that she worked very close to the one open exit out of the place. The moment she smelled smoke, she was down those stairs without a second's hesitation; she was terrified. And it was a good thing, because from what they said later, in minutes the place was an inferno. Makes me realize how dicey it even was that I ever happened. Between this and the damn near miss on the Titanic, it's a miracle my ancestors ever made it long enough to procreate."

It had already occurred to Lorna that Earlene's family was damn lucky, but Jesus… "Something wanted you alive," she said, and she was only half joking. That wasn't just like avoiding a train crash; the Titanic and 9/11 were among the worst disasters of the modern Western world, and to escape that fire - well, it was enough to make Lorna wonder. She didn't believe in fate or destiny, though she really was starting to think some things happened for a reason. It wasn't something she wanted to think, but she couldn't help it. "That's a lot'v near-misses."

Earlene could see Thanadir not understanding, and knew that she would have to back up. "Remember our movie, and when the man said 'I'm being repressed!' ?"

He nodded, still not seeing any connection. "You need to understand that all those years ago, workers had no rights. None. Especially not women workers. They were one of many groups of people that really were repressed. So the people who owned the factory, the ones who employed them, did not have to give them decent working conditions. They were made to work long hours, with no warmth in the winter and no way to escape the heat in the summer, and for very little pay. The doors that should have stayed open to allow movement through the building were locked, because that way no woman could easily steal some of the fabric they sewed on the machines...machines not unlike the one Lorna gave you. The rooms were filled with cloth and a kind of paper that could burn very easily, and somehow a fire started. The women could not get out. Before anyone knew what was happening smoke was everywhere and all the fabrics caught fire. There was a fire escape, but it was not made well enough to hold the weight of many people so it collapsed. There were engines that could spray water to douse the fire, but the water could not reach that high. There were ladders that the firefighters had, but they were not nearly tall enough. There were nets, by which people below tried to catch the women who jumped, but they broke. For no good reason at all, almost a hundred and fifty young and vulnerable women died by burning, inhaling smoke, or when they jumped out of those windows up there, in desperation. The people below were helpless to help them. Because this happened, changes were made. Laws were passed. The saddest thing about us humans is, we see what needs changing, to make things better, safer. But we don't do it, ever, until people die. I wish I could tell you why. We apparently like to repress each other. Because we can."

The elf looked up as she spoke, and his expression changed to one of horror as he listened and tried to imagine. Why in Eru's name would anyone do that?

"I have a different question," said Thranduil. "Twice today you have spoken of a Titanic. And while I can see in your mind that it was a ship, and that something happened, I do not know about this."

Earlene sighed. "Lorna? Your turn, if you want."

"The Titanic was the biggest passenger ship ever built at the time," Lorna said, trying not to twitch at Earlene's description of the fire. She'd known it happened, but she hadn't known details. "It was basically a small, floating, ship-shaped town, and the papers said it was unsinkable. Of course that's bloody tempting Fate, so it ran into an iceberg on its maiden voyage and sank. The problem was that, because it was supposedly unsinkable, they didn't have enough lifeboats, and there was such panic that some'v them were sent off before they were full. There was something like what, a little over two thousand people on it, I think? Anyway, over half'v them died. Though if the captain and crew'v the bloody Californian hadn't had their thumbs up their damn arses, that number might'v been a lot fewer. It's almost like the ship was cursed - absolutely everything that could go wrong, did."

Earlene picked up where Lorna had left off. "Most of those who died were the same sorts of people as died here" she gestured up. "Poor. Desperate. People whose last dime was spent in the hopes of getting to America. They were held down below until most of the boats were gone, because the rich and wealthy believed that they had more right to live than anyone else. The water that night was below freezing, and from hitting the iceberg to sinking the whole disaster was over in less than three hours. The thing about the Titanic was, it was the biggest achievement to date in so many ways. You see these buildings, all around you. Humans want bigger, better, taller, faster, and they often don't care how they go about it. All of that arrogance was distilled, in a way, into that one ship. And when it all went to hell, the world somehow really wasn't ready to face that. Lots changed because the Titanic sank, too, but tell that to all the ones who died, and their families."

* * *

They had a marvelous dinner. They were not far from Chinatown, and Royal Seafood beckoned. Besides, what better way to introduce the elves to this completely non-western eating tradition than the garish yellow chairs and red walls at this place that specialized in Cantonese food that was the real deal. Lobster, half-chickens and a parade of delicacies made their way onto the table. Earlene felt she was working out a method of calibrating food that was most successful. She ordered for six hungry people, and all the food always disappeared. It was wonderful as always to watch Thanadir's face dissolve into rapture when the dishes arrived; she did not bother asking the others what they might like beyond verifying that everyone actually ate watery things and chicken-y things. Afterward, they caught the train back to their hotel and more or less all flopped on the beds. Even Earlene was a little footsore, and she was more or less used to this...on a reduced scale. Standing and walking were different than running it turned out, much to her chagrin. She did not have to wait long for a solution, when the perpetually energetic seneschal took her feet into his lap.

"I'd like to say I don't need this on account of how I'm a native New Yorker and all I did was walk around the City today, but I'm afraid that even for me, it was a lot. Thank you, Thanadir." All her remaining self control went into stifling the noises she might ordinarily make at how good this felt, because Lorna probably already thought they were all weird enough. This was the most her feet and lower legs had ever ached, and as he worked on them, she noticed something. They felt...better, than they should. Her eyes narrowed. She'd never even thought to ask, but could he heal like Thranduil did?

The inevitable chuckle came from the other side of the bed, where Thranduil was nose deep in his laptop screen. Thanadir does not have the same skill level as I do, but yes, he can. I did not think you would mind.

I don't, I really don't, she thought. And then it came out. I would guess Lorna is hurting at least twice as much as I am, and, I'll leave that alone now.

The King's eyebrow raised up. Lorna, Thanadir is most skilled at what he is doing for Earlene, and if you are in discomfort, he can eliminate much of it. Would you allow him to do the same for you?

Lorna, laptop already open, matched his eyebrow out of sheer surprise. On the one hand, it seemed weird and a little too personal, but on the other, there was no reason it ought to. Nobody had given her a foot rub since Liam, but that didn't mean he had to be the last one she'd allow near her feet until the end of time. Let me wash my feet first, she said, but if he doesn't mind… She'd been walking about in sandals all day; she wasn't going to inflict that on anyone. Her normal reticence to be touched by almost anyone was outweighed by just how very sore her feet were.

He does not, and neither of us will be happy knowing that you are feeling pain.

When Thanadir finished and moved over to do the same for Lorna, Earlene was happily surprised to see it and wisely did not remark or look. And after the elf was about three minutes into what she was sure were Lorna's aching feet, it seemed like it was time to bring up something else. That Lorna was being lulled with elven healing might help. She hoped.

"Lorna, there is something going on that you need to know more about, for tomorrow morning. This is weird and awkward for me, and some of that is because I know that this isn't going to sit well with you. So I'll just have out with it, and I'm asking you to try and keep your temper somewhat inside of Manhattan, if possible. You might've heard me say that I have a brother, and that we've not spoken in over twelve years. The truth is, he's a complete arsehole. He's always treated me badly, and a lot of things have been said over the years that were completely nasty. I can't even tell you what his problem is; I've never known.

That letter that he sent me, the one you saw in the post, was asking me to renew contact with him. And usually I would have hands-down said Fuck Off. But there is something else going on, and I don't know exactly what it is. And specifically, that something else concerns the fact that he has a baby daughter, and I've found out that his wife died giving birth to her. Tomorrow morning Thranduil and I are going to meet him and my niece, in a public place, and I wanted you and Thanadir to be nearby but not quite at the table, because there are so many things I am not sure about." She stopped talking, looking carefully at her friend, trying to gauge her reaction thus far.

Lorna went very, very still. She hoped, oh so much, that this wasn't going where she feared it might. If this Aidan was such a gobshite, and only now getting into contact with Earlene… You don't know what this is yet, she told herself. Nobody does. Keep your shit together. "I'm guessing no matter what, you'll be wanting a good drink afterward," she managed, despite the anger that roiled in her gut - it was anger that might well prove pointless, so she'd sit on it, but if this son of a bitch was trying to fob his daughter off on - deep breath, Lorna. They would see tomorrow. Until then, until they knew whether or not he was trying to offload his daughter, there was no use in letting that anger free. Even so, it was hard, because...because. If he really was trying to get rid of his kid, she'd be honor-bound to murder him, and that would just get messy.

Earlene watched the emotions play across Lorna's face and...saw. The woman wasn't a fool, but at the same time that kind of anger was not helpful. It wasn't helpful to her, and it wasn't helpful to Allanah. So, now what? A deep breath went in, and out, before more was said. "The biggest thing I know about you is that you're not stupid, Lorna. And the second biggest thing is that you'd be pissed as hell about the same thing anyone with a brain is thinking right now. But there's one thing, and one thing only that matters to me; the welfare of that little girl. Maybe tomorrow is nothing; maybe it really just is 'meet Auntie Earlene.' You should know too, all Aidan's been told is that I'm traveling with friends and family; he's not aware Thranduil exists beyond vague hints. But if more really is happening, I have a game to play and I'm determined to win it in the best interests of that child. And for that, I need to know that all of us can keep our shit together, smile and nod, and look like we all are nothing more than four adults who just love, love, love that we're getting to meet a sweet baby girl with nothing else whatsoever on our minds."

All Lorna could do was nod. "Thranduil, you're going to have to help me with that," she said, staring at nothing. "You know how crap a liar I am. It's not just that I might want to shank your brother, Earlene, it's that - Christ. I don't know if Thranduil's told you, but I lost my kid when I lost Liam." She paused, picking at the hem of her tunic. "Mine was a girl, too. Would've called her Saoirse. If this turns out to be what I'm afraid it might be, I'll have to go for a walk." Possibly a walk to a pub. She wouldn't make things hard on Earlene and the others, wouldn't make a production, but she simply could not remain around a man who would give away his child. Even whatever Thranduil and Thanadir had done about her rage issues might not be enough, should she be faced with someone who could give away their own flesh and blood.

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were all wrong, and it really was 'meet Auntie Earlene'. She'd hold onto that hope, for now, because to do otherwise was unbearable.

Sighing, Earlene nodded. "I don't want to put you through something that is too hard. The thing of it is, for me, is that some people ought not to be parents, and my brother is one of them. If he could say the things he did to me, he could say them to his own daughter as well, and that's the part I can't live with if I can make a difference. I don't want to drag you into my family shite. I haven't quite known what I think, because there is a lot of baggage here, though for different reasons than your own….and I am so, so sorry, about your loss. We've worried a lot, about how to tell you all this. Thranduil told me only that you had experienced this kind of loss, and, I took a guess as to when and how. I…." she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You do what you need to do, and if you need to take Thanadir with you, take him with you. I'm not going to allow for this to drag on; he gets about an hour to say whatever he has to say." And Christ I hope that is a really, really good foot rub, over there.

Later on found all them with some bottles of wine and cannoli, all piled on one of the beds, watching Titanic on one of the laptops. Tomorrow would be a busy day. Afterward, by unspoken agreement they all kept to their own thoughts.

Lorna sighed. Things would go how they would go; there was no point dwelling on it until then. Fortunately that really had been a good foot rub. Downloading some of the pictures from her phone, she opened her computer and wrote Ratiri an email.

* * *

Lorna had only been gone two days, and already Ratiri missed her terribly. It was so co-dependant of him that he was ashamed of himself, yet he couldn't help it. He wondered how disgusting it would be for him to email her, but when he opened his account, he was pleasantly surprised to find she'd beaten him to it. Her spelling and punctuation left a bit to be desired, but given her patchy education, he wasn't surprised; it was actually weirdly endearing. She did the best she could with what she'd always had.

My feet about fell off, she wrote, but its been worth it. New York is huge and busy and full of more amazing shite than I'd realized. We went up into the Statue of Liberty and the One World Trade Center, and down Wall Street before we stopped in at Earlene's old work. I knew she'd been a big shot in the States, but I didnt realize how much of one. (And let me tell you, being in a room full of lawyers is nerve racking even when I haven't done anything wrong.)

I've attatched some pictures, and I aut (did she mean 'ought', he wondered?) to have more tomorrow. we went through Ellis Island, and wasn't that weird, and saw the old Triangle Shirtwaiste factory, or whatever its called now.

I also bought souveniers, and I'll be picking up more later. Be afraid. Be very very afraid. I'm having the time of my life, but I miss you.

Ratiri was hardly afraid, though he was rather amused, and something warmed in his chest to know she not only missed him, but was willing to say so. He opened the attached images and burst out laughing. Some of them were conventional shots, mostly of Earlene and the Elves, but in others...Earlene must have taken the snap of Lorna and the Elves inside the Statue of Liberty's crown, and Lorna looked rather terrified to be so close to the windows. She likewise looked far too pleased to be riding the Wall Street bull, though he had to wonder how she'd got up there to begin with.

Don't wear yourself down to exhaustion, he wrote back, the doctor in him unable to resist. Drink lots of water. I want to hear all about it when you get home, so stay in one piece. For such a young city, New York has a lot of history, and it sounds like Earlene is a good guide. I'll share these with the village, if you don't mind, so that you won't have to field quite so many questions right off when you get home (though I have so many myself.)

He hesitated, and finally wrote, I miss you, too. I hope you have fun, but I'll be glad when you're home.

Notes:

The three days one of us spent visiting New York City was not nearly enough knowledge for us as writers to give these chapters adequate realism or tell our story. Hours of documentaries and film footage were watched and discussed in order to compose these chapters. Some of it was so mind-bogglingly interesting and transformative, to us, that we decided to include the most important of these video links in the event others would like to see.

Immigration Through Ellis Island: watch?v=u4wzVuXPznk  
Forgotten Ellis Island: watch?v=AuPZr68T_fg  
Island of Hope-Island of Tears: watch?v=qh5CWbTDsuQ&t=6s  
Ellis Island-The Digital Archive: watch?v=eH2hllmZdRg  
Climbing Inside the Statue of Liberty: watch?v=gYxc-ZaYGmg  
The Elevator Video at One World Trade Center: watch?v=cKTPaqbXrAY  
The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire 1911: watch?v=hCB4SgXRgKg  
Triangle-Remembering the Fire: watch?v=YkUCz94qHz8


	35. Chapter 35

Immediately following a relaxed morning of coffee and the New York Times (and an informal commitment to eat their way through the entire pastry display case over the duration of their stay) they began the walk toward the Atrium. 57th Street was less congested this time of the morning, and it was with a sense of contented amusement that Earlene led the way, rounding the corner at Carnegie Hall. Would they know the classic 'groaner'? One way to find out, Earlene reasoned. "Have you ever heard the joke, 'How do you get to Carnegie Hall?' " Three blank faces stared back at her. "Practice, practice, practice."

Aaaaaand pretty much nobody understood that, she thought, before shrugging. It didn't change the fact that the acoustics in there were second to none. They meandered near assorted shops and galleries, passing Tiffany & Co. and the Torneau store (with about twenty clocks over the storefront, just in case you needed to know what time it was, anywhere at all). And just beyond that was their destination, a large indoor public space that had nice seating, including trees and birds. She'd told them to bring their laptops, knowing that there'd be wifi and time to kill; they were early. After angling for a very central table, they agreed that Thanadir and Lorna could sit closer to the doors in case Lorna felt a need to vanish, but near enough that if she wanted to meet the baby she could. Provided she could do it without it turning ugly, she might just try.

Thranduil sat next to Earlene. Close enough to be close, but not in a way that screamed 'smothering'. She'd texted Aidan last night, saying she would be with a man with long blond hair, and left it at that. They were both busy with their reading, though it didn't take a genius to notice that Earlene's eyes shifted every ten seconds to the clock on her screen. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could feel it, as she reached for Thranduil's hand. Why is this so hard? she asked him, significantly disturbed by the roiling emotions she could not seem to keep in check.

Because he wronged you, meluieg, and you are afraid, with justification, that he will wrong you again. I am here with you. Remember that he has no power over you; I will not allow him to harm you in any manner.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she still wondered what in hell had happened to her. There had been a few times she'd heard her nickname at the courthouse; they'd dubbed her the Ice Queen. You'd never know it right now.

So it was perhaps for the best when at a few minutes after the appointed time, the voice she'd done her best to forget sounded behind them. "Earlene?" she heard tentatively. Both she and Thranduil turned at the same time to stand up; here was Aidan. He looked much as she remembered; the total opposite of her. Carrot red hair and mustache, and penetratingly insouciant blue eyes. He stood a little under six feet tall, with a decent but not award-winning trim physique. And definitely, a few more lines on his face than she remembered, though someone capable of thinking him handsome would still call him that.

"Hello, Aidan," she said, meeting his gaze evenly, but with no offer of a hug or even a handshake. "This is my husband, Fionn," gesturing. "And this must be little Allanah?" she asked, her voice softening for the first time. Without thinking, she reached her arms out tentatively, asking without words to hold her. The little girl was beautiful, already showing that she too was a ginger; her features were symmetrical and she seemed to have a sunny disposition. To her surprise, Allanah extended her tiny hands toward Earlene. Did they do that, so young? She really had no idea, not knowing up from down about babies but at any rate, the girl was a living porcelain doll, dressed in a lovely little lilac summer dress. Aidan handed Allanah to his sister, which saved them both the awkwardness of contemplating any actual physical contact.

"Pleased to meet you," said Thranduil, in what she recognized as one of his most soothing and neutral tones.

"You also," said Aidan, clearly not expecting what was in front of him; the King towered over him by half a foot. "And it would seem congratulations are in order, Earlene; I did not know you had married," he said, doing his best to wrangle his features into a sincere smile as he took in Thranduil's appearance and strikingly long pale hair.

"Sit, please," offered Thranduil, as laptops were shut and Earlene quickly lost herself in staring at the child and taking surreptitious yet deep sniffs of that smell that could only be described as baby.

"Does she have a middle name?" asked Earlene, her face breaking into the first semblance of a smile.

"I stole from yours, but not completely," he said sheepishly. "Rhiannon."

"You went all out on the family names, I see," she grinned. "Those are lovely choices, and gran would have been thrilled." She paused. "I found myself thinking, the other day. Do you have any idea why they named you 'Aidan'?" she asked, doing her best to have the question seem utterly casual.

"No, I've no idea. The only thing ever said was that gran had really, really wanted me named that, and that Da caved in," he shrugged.

Earlene nodded slowly. Part of her wanted to tell him what she'd found on Ellis Island but the other part...no. Walking in here like this, it didn't mean he deserved jack shit. "Well, how have you been?" she asked, casting her net over the waters. She could not afford to let on that she knew as much as she did. "Is there a Mrs. Sullivan?" she asked with a smile, even though it was the most heartless question in the world.

He ran his hands through his hair, showing a glimpse of agitation. "There was," he breathed, with a note of dejection in his voice. Earlene gave her best acting performance of being concerned yet puzzled, as she let Allanah gum her finger. "I lost her, just after the baby was born. Her name was Madison. You would have liked her." He made a noise that was almost a snort. "She wasn't like me, at all."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," she said, preparing to drive the spike home. "I can't imagine what you've gone through, but she gave you this beautiful little girl."

"Yeah, she did." The wooden response, the lack of anything resembling paternal affection toward this baby froze her insides, and made her want to stand up right now and march her niece back to the hotel. But that wasn't possible, and she forced herself to focus. Thranduil's voice sounded in her head.

You are doing well, meluieg. And since these are not ordinary circumstances, I feel no need to' play fair'. He is close to speaking the truth about why he is here; you were not wrong in anything at which you have guessed.

Well then, full speed ahead. "Aidan, let's take a moment here and just do something gran would have loved. I'm sure you heard her say more than once, 'the fastest way across the field is straight through the cow shite'. So why not save a lot of hassle and tell me the real reason why we are meeting here? Wanting to make nice like this, it isn't like you. Or has that much changed?" Her eyes bored into his; he did not flinch or express surprise at her words.

"Nothing's changed, little sister. I see it hasn't with you, either. And that's fine. Knowing you, you've already figured all of this out; figuring it out is why you made it to the top, isn't it?"

Only you could make an offhand compliment into half an insult, she thought. "If I did figure it out, big brother, then you would know that regardless, I want to hear it from your lips. It wouldn't be like Earlene, to lay all her cards on the table, would it now?"

Thranduil understood that the game was afoot, in earnest now. Both siblings were keeping to just this side of civility...barely. The thinly restrained aggression in Earlene was something that was well-practiced, and he perceived only now that this was a glimmer of what her opponents had faced in a courtroom. The gentle and compliant wife he so dearly loved was only one aspect of her; she could use her words to flay someone where they stood, if she chose.

"No, indeed," he said, taking her measure before tilting his head with a smirk. "As you can see, Allanah is cared for. Clean, healthy, well-dressed. What she is not, and likely never will be in the way a child deserves, is loved. I doubt I need to explain myself to you, of all people. I'll not pretend I deserve any kind of award, because I don't. We both know I'll make a shite father, and her mother, who wanted her so badly, isn't coming back. Madison had no family. I've no right to ask, but for Allanah, I will. She needs parents who will love her, and we both know that isn't coming from me. I'd rather see her with her own flesh and blood than a stranger who wants to adopt her."

Thranduil looked at him in disbelief, even though everything up to this should have prepared him. "You are asking us to…?" he trailed off. He needed to hear it, in plain words.

"I am asking you if you would consider adopting Earlene's niece," he said.

"Jesus, Aidan," said Earlene. "I give you credit for brutal honesty but...this is really want you want to do? You'd place her for adoption?"

He leaned back, and looked up through the glass roof. "It is exactly what I plan to do, and what action I take from here depends largely on the outcome of this discussion."

A stony silence came over the conversation, and it was taking more and more of her self control to not stand up and bolt with the baby. Finally Earlene's head snapped around. "There would be conditions. You don't just get to hand her to us and waltz off."

Aidan smiled, sensing victory. "I expect to part with a sum of money that fairly reflects my financial responsibility to my daughter," he said, "and more besides, because you didn't ask for this to happen to you. While I know you aren't the sort that would want to be 'paid', it does not change the fact that I am asking you to make sacrifices because I am incapable of being a decent parent. Neither are children free of cost; she deserves an education so she has a chance in this world, just like what you and I had."

"You'll sign over all your legal rights?"

"If I wanted parental rights, Earlene, we would not be having this conversation," he breezed.

"You understand that this can't happen overnight? There are rules and laws, and we live three thousand miles away."

Aidan smiled even wider. "There are lawyers and airplanes, are there not?"

Thranduil spoke again. "It does not even concern you, that you have only just met me, and that you would be giving your daughter over to be raised by me as well?"

The man was just about to speak when Thranduil held up his hand forcefully, with his eyes blazing. "Stop," he said in a tone of command that brooked no opposition. "Disregard that I asked, and do not answer." What the man was thinking was an outrage, made worse by the fact that too many of his perceptions were correct. His thoughts were repugnant; Aidan's entire estimation of Thranduil as a fellow male was based on an assessment of his virility and that he had obviously had achieved a difficult conquest. The King did not know what to say, or do. It was true, that at the outset he had relied on exactly these skills. And that he had those skills. But there had been a reason, and he had never intended that he would use Earlene and then cast her aside in favor of another, and another. He was honor-bound, from the moment he began with her, to be loyal to her. Just as he knew she would have to be loyal to him. That this was elven nature was beside the point...how could anyone set out to treat another in this manner, with deliberate intention? His stomach wanted to turn.

Aidan complied, showing no surprise, returned Thranduil's stare. His thoughts echoed clearly in the King's mind as they emerged. It's probably just as well. If you, Fionn, whoever you are, managed to defrost Earlene and pop her cherry, a baby will hardly be a challenge. She wouldn't have taken up with anyone not fundamentally decent; you're the least of my worries. If you aren't a stud extraordinaire, I don't know what one looks like. Fionn, in his estimation, exuded a confident sexuality and part of him would dearly love to be able to discuss how he'd worked his way between his frigid sister's legs, and what other fun he might be having on the side, with that set of abilities. I ought to hand Fionn a prize; he has to be a talented seducer….maybe he has a few pointers to offer? It never hurts to add more tricks to the bag...maybe he'll even tell me how she is between the sheets. The thought made him smirk. Maybe someday soon, over a drink. His head turned back to his sister, as he reluctantly pushed his sexual contemplations aside. "So what's next, Earlene? Surely you have half the paperwork waiting in the wings already."

"You will be contacted by my attorney," she said without emotion, "and we will begin the process. It is all made more complex by the fact that I've emigrated, but, that is nothing insurmountable. But there is one thing, Aidan. You only get to do this to us once. If this is how you feel about children, eliminate the potential for this little problem."

"You'll be pleased to know that for perhaps the first time ever, we agree on something. That has already been accomplished. And, I would imagine that we should conclude this discussion for now. The fact that we've not started brawling yet is something of a family achievement. There is only one other thing; I understand that you are here for most of the week. Did you wish to see Allanah again?"

It was the first thing resembling human compassion she'd heard from him for most of this conversation. "I do, and I don't," Earlene said. "If you look to your left, you will see seated by the windows a very tiny woman with long black hair, with Fionn's brother Cian. She would give her left eyeball to have what you are throwing at us, and I genuinely don't want to put her through this again. Don't let her size fool you. She'll want to kill you where you sit, for what you are doing. In fact, no, we are not meeting again; I'll make that decision now. But if you would allow it, I'd like to take Allanah to be introduced to the rest of her future family." And to leave you alone with whatever my husband is going to come up with to say to you, she rationalized. Seeing her brother's unconcerned nod, she rose and walked toward Lorna and Thanadir. Sitting down between them with a calm smile, she said "This is Allanah, my niece."

When Earlene walked away, Thranduil spoke to Aidan. Keeping a level voice and showing no outward emotion now took the sum of all his experience, because honestly he wanted to kill the man where he sat. "I've never met anyone quite like you," he opined, as his eyes further assessed Earlene's brother. It was one of the few things he could say that was true and not a grievous insult. The man was not fully evil; it was not remotely that simple. Neither was he particularly good. He was something beyond immoral, he was amoral. Nothing pointed the way toward right or wrong inside of him, beyond the most basic generalities of what wants he had determined took priority.

"Da always said I was a piece of work," Aidan grinned. "Don't worry, you're not alone in your observations. I've heard it all before. And….look. I don't deserve what you both are doing, just like I don't deserve Allanah. I'm not stupid enough to believe that your generosity is for me; it's for the baby, and for that you have my thanks. None of this was supposed to happen like it did and…" he shook his head.

"Who takes care of Allanah? Forgive me, but I cannot envision you changing soiled clothes and feeding a little one," said Thranduil.

"Behind you," Aidan smirked, with a dip of his head in acknowledgement, "maybe six tables away, is a young woman. She is a professional nanny, and her services will be retained until this process is completed. I can see to it that my daughter is physically taken care of, Fionn. I just can't do a damn bit more, and that's the part that's no good."

"I would imagine not," the King said, for once nearly speechless. It was easily discernible from Aidan's thoughts that this young woman gave more services than just child care, for which she was being generously compensated. He wanted to vomit, and elves were not even capable of this reflex. This encounter needed to end very soon; even his self-control was beginning to erode. He lapsed into silence, watching Earlene at the other table.

Lorna had been trying very hard not to eavesdrop, but was mainly saved the effort by the chatter of the other diners. Jesus Christ, that kid was cute...and Earlene's brother looked like both a gobshite and a bit constipated. They didn't look related at all, but that was probably for the best, honestly. If you hated your sibling, it was easier to hate them when they didn't look like they could be your sibling. "Can I hold her?" she asked, and then, more quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Absolutely you can hold her," said Earlene, handing the baby over to Lorna. "I'm OK. I have Thranduil. This meeting's just about concluded, but I wanted both of you to at least see her. Christ isn't she precious?"

"She's lovely," Lorna said, stroking her fingers over the baby's fuzzy down of red hair. "So lovely." Holding this child made her heart hurt, and yet she didn't want to put the baby down. Such large eyes - blue eyes, blue as the sky, staring with curiosity at Lorna. Lorna, who would like nothing more than to take this baby and run for it, however disastrous it would be for, well, everyone. Almost unconsciously she started humming, while the little thing inspected her braid with interest, tiny fingers not quite finding purchase. Oh, it hurt, but it was not something she wanted to give up, either.

"Earlene, the child is very beautiful," Thanadir said with eyes full of both admiration and yearning, reaching out his long, delicately formed fingers to caress her cheek.

"I agree. She's as Irish as they come. Allanah Rhiannon Sullivan. Gran would have been so proud, it's a damn shame she didn't live long enough to meet her. But her name lives on, so I guess in a way it's all the same."

"D'you know what 'Allanah' means in Irish?" Lorna asked.

"I thought it meant 'child' but...what in hell do I know," she said. Earlene got out her phone and turned off the flash. "I'll take some pictures," she offered.

"'Little dear one'," Lorna said, looking up. "It's an endearment, back home." Gran had called her that, right up until the day she died.

"Well then that fits her all the better," Earlene said. "Did you want to hold her, Thanadir?" The elf nodded, and with visible reluctance Lorna handed the baby over. It did Earlene more good than she could say to see that this child had a future with people who were going to love her to death. Not literally of course, but the life this child was going to have, growing up with Peredhel cousins in an elven kingdom. It was the stuff of fairy tales and for this child, it would be a reality. In a matter of seconds the baby cooed and giggled for him, while trying to eat some of his hair. Laughing, Earlene rescued the seneschal's unbound tresses. "All right, reluctantly, I have to return her to her da. Everyone wave good luck," she said, making little waves at the delighted child, before returning to the table.

"Do you think I could possibly have your address, Earlene?" Aidan asked.

"As long as it stays with you and any necessary legal paperwork only, yes. I've not really wanted to be easy to find. Obviously." She texted it to him. "Earlene Sullivan, Ennyn-En-Eryn, West Lasg'len Road, Lasg'len, County Kildare."

"Where in hell is this?" he asked, amused.

"It's nowhere, about three hours west of Dublin, which was the whole point of the thing. It's a cottage on some land, maybe a mile outside of what barely passes for a village." A sigh escaped her, as she gave Allanah several kisses; she found herself strangely unable to stop doing this. "Well, until next time, I'm guessing," she said, with some sense of exasperation. "You're not going to go changing your mind on me after I've got my heart set on this, are you?" she asked him, her eyes filling with restrained menace.

For once, the mask dropped and his perpetual cockiness dissolved away. "No, I won't. I give you my promise, this will go as smoothly and expeditiously as I can manage; no games. I know I've treated you like dirt, Earlene, though I like to think I'm somewhat beyond saying the kinds of things that have come out of my mouth in the past. Besides. I think if I pulled a stunt like that, you really might send your friend after me. I can safely say, we'll be seeing each other sooner than you think," he smiled. "Fionn, it was a pleasure." Aidan offered his hand, and Thranduil shook it, to Earlene's vague surprise. Taking Allanah, without a backward glance, he transferred the baby to her nanny, and beat a swift exit.

Earlene plunked back down in her seat. "Jesus fucking Christ," she said. "Just…." and she burst into tears and dove face first into Thranduil's chest, desperate to not make a scene. Please don't let me do this, she begged him. I know you can do something...just, please….

His arms came around her, and she felt the painful emotions ebbing. Meluieg, you did so very well. I am proud of you; be at peace. He kept her in his hold, until she regained her comportment. He was not above admitting to himself that he was gaining just as much comfort from holding her as she was from him. As he soothed his wife, he did not know if he should share the last thing he saw in her brother's thoughts. Or for that matter, anything he saw. It came when he spoke of seeing them soon; a definite image of Aidan planning on coming to them, but, did that actually mean anything? It was why he wanted the address. Was this simply part of whatever the humans' legal process was, that would need to happen? Likely it was nothing, and this did not feel like the right time to upset Earlene further.

It took every ounce of willpower Lorna hand, not to sprint after that ginger twat, knock over his damned nanny, and steal that baby. But she didn't; she didn't even say anything awful...in English, at any rate. It had hurt, and she had known it would hurt, but in time, unless she was very much mistaken, that kid would be coming to Ireland. And she would be the best god damned aunt that ever walked the face of the bloody Earth. Right now, though, she needed a drink, and she was entirely sure Earlene needed one much worse than she did.

They beelined back to the hotel lobby where Earlene ordered four Bloody Marys, not too spicy, extra strong, and dared the bartender with her eyes to say one word about it. Her glare softened when he looked her up and down, and very openly let the vodka generously pour into the glasses. Then they all retired to a corner of the (she thought) bizarrely decorated lounge where she slumped in against the cushions. "So how much of what came out of his mouth was actually some version of the truth? If, that is, you are willing to reveal that information," Earlene asked her husband.

"All of it," he answered softly. "He was not lying. I told him the same thing I tell you now; I have never met anyone like this. Right and wrong, in his mind, are whatever he needs them to be. There is some odd structure to his reasoning, but it is a dangerous one. His morality is based on whatever affects him personally."

Earlene spoke again. "He says, he wants us to adopt his daughter, and was already prepared to concede every demand I made. I guess I was kidding myself; he knows me as well as I know him. He knew the lengths I'd go to, ahead of time. So I don't know how fast this will take place, but unless something happens to screw all of this up, that little girl is coming to live with us. My brother is an absolute and complete piece of work," she breathed, wasting no time at swallowing a third of what was placed in front of her before she realized perhaps this was too much alcohol all at once. Thranduil said nothing, but moved to place his arm around her.

Drink it, he said, and do not worry. I will protect the children.

"Feicfidh mé craiceann an bastaird," Lorna growled, knocking back her entire drink in three swallows. The burn of it offset her rage, which shocked her in its intensity - she'd been afraid this would happen, so why the hell was her wrath so molten now? It was all she could do not to hunt the fucker down; in that moment she could have snapped his neck with nary a qualm, and taken that baby far away. Instead, she ate a handful of peanuts, and held out her glass. The bartender gave her a slightly disbelieving look, but shrugged. "Feicfidh mé air mar a rinne mé le mo da." Her second drink went down nearly as fast as the first, but it did little to quell her anger. How the hell could anyone look at that beautiful baby girl and give her up? That son of a bitch had no actual compelling reason to give her away - he wasn't sick, he wasn't struggling financially, he just...he was throwing away what she'd lost. Like it was nothing.

"You are not quite correct, Lorna," Thranduil said in a defeated tone of voice, still processing everything that had happened. "He did have a reason. He is incapable of loving her, and that also was no lie. In his own terribly disturbed way, he decided that the best thing for her was to be placed with people who could give her what she deserves, and his second thought after that was to give what remained of the child's living relations the first chance to have her. As much as all of this tears at my heart, I believe he is actually doing the right thing. I have never seen a heart so warped, so...damaged. No child deserves to grow up with that as a parent," he said vehemently. He felt that of all those seated here, he and Lorna should know about that reality. And yet Earlene's sibling seemed to add a whole new dimension to what could go wrong.

"No," she said, holding out her glass. "No, they shouldn't. I guess we should be grateful he'll admit he's a sociopath." How could a person be like that? How could someone just...not love their own child? She couldn't understand it, and she likely never would. She wasn't sure she wanted to. "She'll be happy with you two. With all'v us, because I hope you're aware I'll hover like a vulture. I can't not." It might be unfair to Earlene, as the adoptive mother, but this was just something Lorna wouldn't be able to force herself not to do. She couldn't leave this adorable kid too far away.

"I think I was sort of hoping you would say that," Earlene said. "This is all a little sudden, for me. There's no doubt in my mind I'm doing the right thing but...Jesus, three months ago I was a single woman and now...zoom! It's taking some adjusting. I couldn't do this without all of you."

"What's the American term - life throws you curveballs?" Lorna asked. "You couldn't keep me away with a stick." And she was fairly sure Ratiri would be equally present. They had discovered his wife's uterine cancer because they thought she was pregnant, and that had been that.

Earlene looked at Thranduil, whose eyes were equally locked on hers. They both seemed to nod, ever so slightly, at the same time.

"There is more, Lorna. We were waiting to tell you until we felt more certain it would be happy news, and much was unknown before this meeting. Allanah will not be the only child. Earlene is expecting," he said, while a dazzling smile lit up his entire face.

"Christ, you'll have two -" Lorna might be the least demonstrative person ever, but she managed to lean over to give Earlene a hug, and not even spill what little remained of her drink. "Two babies, you'll want help. I'll dragoon Ratiri, too, though I can't let anyone else in Baile know or you'll be drowning in baby clothes."

Surprised and pleased, Earlene returned her hug, lingering with her arm around her loosely, just long enough to add "Erm, not two. Three, is the number that thou shalt count…." she rattled off in an iconic tone of voice. I can't stop Monty Python, she thought. I just can't. "It's twins. Or the Holy Hand Grenade, take your pick."

Lorna's eyebrows practically shot to her hairline. "Twins? Oh good Jesus. Are you sure you should be walking about so much right now?" Yeah, they were half-elf kids, and thus could probably survive a nuclear blast, but still.

Earlene laughed while gesturing to her husband. "If he says it's OK, it's OK. I feel fine. Remember, my legs are more used to concrete than yours are. I'll worry about all that later on, I'm sure, when I'll need to be half-carried everywhere. For now, too...I wouldn't mind, not everyone knowing for a little longer. Ratiri's OK, of course. But it'll be obvious soon enough and...I wasn't lying, I'm still enjoying getting used to the idea…" she sighed, feeling like a change of subject was in order. "And if we're all sufficiently de-stressed, we should think about heading out. We're going to the Bronx Zoo, and maybe one other thing afterward."

"What is a ….zoo?" asked Thanadir, rising from his seat with a look of still being undecided about the merit of Bloody Marys. Lorna eyed him while making a sort of grasping hands gesture at his glass, and in short order relieved him of the remainder of his beverage.

"It's a place where animals live," Lorna said, finishing her drink and Thanadir's. "Usually animals that are endangered. They get put in a zoo so they're safe and so people can see them. If there's a butterfly house, we should avoid it, though, because for some reason butterflies love me." She grinned. "I can keep the sprogs to myself, for now. I mean, I'll tell Ratiri, but that's it."

The only crummy thing was needing to basically go right back to Madison Avenue to get the express bus to the Zoo, but they managed easily enough; it wasn't that far, and Thanadir genuinely had not seemed to mind fixing human feet.

Once they were ensconced in the back of the bus in relative privacy, Earlene filled Lorna in on the fuller story of Aidan; specifically, what her hired investigator had found out about the entire thing, and how Madison had died. "Isn't it beyond ironic? Here she is, married to a doctor, and won't have a thing to do with it. It'd be like you and Ratiri getting hitched someday, and your kid gets an ear infection, and you'd rather have a Celtic ceremony out on the back porch (complete with sacrificing live rabbits) instead of letting him give the child medicine. It blows my mind, but doesn't change the fact that the whole thing was bloody awful. In a way I feel like I'm helping her, too. Madison, I mean. She'd not have wanted her baby to be with a man like Aidan; not when she wanted Allanah so much. I wonder if that poor woman ever even knew my brother at all. Or knew that I existed..." she trailed off.

"Unless she was dense as lead, she probably didn't," Lorna said, and rather carefully didn't think about marrying Ratiri - because if there was a real chance of that someday, she didn't want to jinx it. "I don't get anyone who won't have anything to do with modern medicine. Gran made all the natural shite she could, but she still went to the damn doctor if she got really sick. As she put it, 'A pill for every problem's bullshit, but you can't cure pneumonia with herbs.' And she went to Dublin to have Mam and my aunts and uncles, exactly because if anything went wrong with a home birth, that might be the end'v her. Great-Gran died having Gran's youngest brother - something went wrong, and she hemorrhaged. Gran was eight, I think." She herself certainly would have had Saoirse in hospital, if she'd actually carried the baby to term, because the obstetrician she saw in Dublin told her that at her size, there was a chance she'd have issues, depending on how big Saoirse got in utero.

The bus left them off near the Fordham Road Gate, where they strolled alongside the few visitors that were equally early arrivals. "I've never been here before, I could never seem to find the time," Earlene explained, reflecting. "Fionn, Cian, there are some things you should realize about why this place exists, and others like it. It is partly what Lorna said but...the animals you will see today, in a way it is a great sadness that they are here at all. At one time, all of these creatures existed in unimaginable abundance, in different places around the world. But especially beginning about a hundred and fifty years ago, hunting them, slaughtering them for no real reason, and destroying the places they live became an entrenched pursuit. And one day some wiser people realized that it had gone so far that they were almost all lost. So places like this were made. A long time ago, zoos were awful, worse than human prisons. Now, at least an effort is made to understand their needs and try to meet some of them. But even now, today, the problem of killing them is still horrible. It is all driven by greed, and the time may come when these captive animals are the last of their kind. I wanted you to visit this place not because of this depressing part, but because I am guessing you do not know of the existence of even a fraction of these creatures. There is no other easy way by which to see them, alive and in person. We humans have treated this planet as if we have another planet to go to when this one's done being ruined," she opined.

"Isn't that the bloody truth," Lorna muttered, thinking of the Industrial Revolution, of how blithely people had poisoned the land. It had taken decades to undo, and even now, with all the laws in place, it was still far from perfect. "I'd like to think most'v us're better now, though. I know America did a lot to save its ancient forest, once you lot realized you were hacking down too much'v it. Ireland did the same, once we were our own country, but by then there wasn't much left to save." The States had the advantage of not being inhabited by Europeans for millennia, and so hadn't had nearly as much time to be razed to the ground, as well as being bloody enormous. The native people, not being a bunch of greedy industrialist fuckers, had only taken what they actually needed.

Looking at the map, Earlene realized that there was no way to limit the distance they would walk; seeing the whole place meant essentially a great deal of walking. She elected that they would begin straight down the middle. Or roughly, from the tigers to the reptile house.

Arriving first at the tigers, she was surprised to see them rather active. "These are the distant relations of little Tail," she said. The great cats were cavorting in a pond, but Earlene tilted her head, because to her it looked very much like what some cat owners fondly termed 'a slappy fight.' "They are a far cry from Droopy and Hunnie Bunnie, no?" she asked Thanadir, grinning. He was fascinated; and just then one of the tigers opened his mouth to clearly reveal his teeth.

"They are deadly," said the seneschal, looking on in awe. "They hunt all things, do they not?"

"Yes. Some kinds of them are native to the land from which Ratiri's family comes. They are feared even today, in places where humans live near the jungle."

"I read somewhere that once they get a taste'v human, they want more," Lorna said, "but I've got no idea if that's a load'v shite or not. It sounds like it ought to be." It sounded, in point of fact, like an excuse to kill tigers.

They moved toward another large enclosure. "Brôg!" exclaimed Thanadir. Earlene bit her lip...another word she did not know.

"Bear, meluieg," she heard.

"So they existed in your…?"

"Yes," he smiled. "You are forgetting the film you showed me. Remember Beorn, who changed into a great bear? He lived at the edge of my forest."

Lorna wondered what had ever become of him, and decided she didn't want to ask. She'd bet the answer was a tragic one.

The Butterfly House was magical; that the insects flew here and there without being behind glass. Earlene knew very little about wildlife or ecology, but what she could do is read an an astonishing pace and explain the signs, some of which used complex zoological terms, to Thanadir. Before long she made a game with the gentle elf out of seeing who could point out the most butterflies.

Lorna had thought visiting this exhibit wasn't a good idea, but it turned out she was right. For whatever reason, butterflies loved her, especially her hair and, unfortunately, her face. (Bees did, too, and they were rather less welcome; having one crawl up her nose as a kid was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of her young life. Fortunately, it had got bored and crawled out again.) She wound up having to squinch her eyes shut as a huge monarch decided to investigate her eyebrows, until it deigned to fly off again. Normally she'd get one or two land on her within the space of a week in the summer, and she was always so terrified she was going to injure one by moving wrong, especially when they were in her hair and she couldn't see them. This, however, was ridiculous. Gran said I must smell nice to them, she told Thranduil, not daring to open her mouth lest the swallowtail on her chin try to crawl in. How she was to get them off before she left, she wasn't sure, but she was sure you weren't supposed to let them out.

Earlene decided to rescue Lorna, but not before taking a photo of her because it was too. damn. cute. And as they were near the exit, one of the docents saw and took pity on them as well, explaining the importance of nudging the creatures away without touching their wings, that apparently were made of microscopic feathers that could be damaged. Which made Earlene feel horrible for every butterfly she'd ever caught when she was a little girl, but how was she supposed to know? Finally, Lorna was passenger-free and they moved on.

"Next is the Reptile house." And before Thanadir had to ask what those were, she explained that these were a class of life that could not regulate their body temperature like other creatures could, and that they had scaly skin and reproduced by laying eggs.

"They have four legs but lay eggs?" the old elf asked, not sure he was hearing correctly. That or, the mortals had lost their minds. Thranduil grinned, sure he was about to enjoy this. This, would be something utterly new.

Lorna laughed. "Earlene, does this zoo have a platypus? Thanadir, those things would blow your mind. Even we think they're ridiculous. It's this furry creature with a bill like a duck, warm-blooded, but it lays eggs. There are all sorts'v jokes about how the platypus was the result of some deity needing to make use of all the spare parts." She herself had seen precious few reptiles - Ireland, contrary to popular belief, did have snakes, but they were just garden snakes.

The ellyn were completely engrossed with these creatures. Green vipers, the strange looking gharials, very large constrictor snakes, poison dart frogs...Earlene honestly had the impression that what they were seeing here was stranger to them than the sum of the entire human world they'd yet encountered. Earlene and Lorna traded off explaining things like 'why they were called poison dart frogs' and spent the rest of their time deriving as much amusements from watching the elves watching the animals. Thanadir especially could not get over the otherworldly stillness of the aquatic reptiles. He'd half convinced himself that they were not real, when suddenly the creatures moved, and it dawned on him that this was its key to success as a predator. They were all enjoying this exhibit so much, it seemed like there was no point rushing. Yet unfortunately for Earlene, it was the downside to reading so fast; she already had the information filed away while the others were still reading the informational display. Out came the map. "Next stop, Mouse House." This sounded slightly distasteful; the only thing she'd ever done with rodents is kill them, as quickly as possible. Did New York really need a house to showcase rats and mice?

And yet all was not as it seemed. These were different rats and mice. The room was dim, and full, but Lorna managed to squeeze her way forward anyway. She loved rodents, having grown up around a number of them - too young, at the time, to realize the diseases they could carry. And the little gerbils...she just about melted. They were so small, and so fuzzy, and she just wanted to stuff all of them down her shirt and walk out like that. Maybe she could get one when they got home, except Tail would probably spend all his time trying to figure out ways to eat it. She snapped a number of pictures, though she knew she was probably the only one who would be interested in them.

"A mongoose," said Earlene, pointing. "I wonder if Ratiri's family ever saw these things...I mean, I've no idea what it would be like, living in India. Do things like this just run around, or do you have to go into the wild to find them? It's New York. If it wasn't a rat, pigeon or cockroach, I couldn't say what it was." She shrugged. There was far less group enthusiasm for the rodents. Except for Lorna, of course, who seemed rather enraptured.

'Primates' and 'Plains of Africa' were next, in no particular order, and Thranduil seemed to wish to see gorillas. Why, no one was certain. They arrived at the glass enclosure and she heard him whisper, "What in Eru's name…?" The look on his face was one she'd never seen. The place was full at the moment of noisy nattering children and parents that if possible made more noise yet, so they stood back and waited a bit, for those to move along. When there were fewer people, she ventured to ask.

What has caught your attention to such a degree, if I may ask? His eyes were still as wide as saucers.

They think, meluieg. They think and they speak to each other, communicating ideas, though it is not with speech like yours. They use gestures and sounds. But it is not the same as an adult human; and yet the older ones among them have the same ability to reason as a young human child. How is it that they are kept in these conditions?

She was not sure how to answer. "I do not know enough to fully answer...but it is much as I said before. In their home they are hunted. Their heads and their hands are cut off to make trinkets and souvenirs. Parts of their bodies have value and on account of it there are few of them left. And while it is known that they have a kind of intelligence, you must understand that we cannot know what you know. At least here, they are not going to be shot. Though I could guess that if they are capable of such thoughts, they would perhaps like to be elsewhere."

Thranduil nodded slowly, digesting what he had been told. This was unjust, and yet, were not many things in their world thus? Surely the lot of these animals was no worse than much of what he'd learned about the life of most humans in the early days of this city. In fact, it was assuredly far better.

Wasn't it weird, Lorna thought, how closely humans were related to some primates? She didn't know what the ratio was, but she knew that with chimps it like ninety-something percent DNA, yet humans could reason and chimps couldn't. What the hell was the word? Sapience? Something like that. There was a Terry Pratchett line - something like humans being were the falling angel met the rising ape. Maybe that was giving humans too much credit.

They moved past the wild dogs, and since the only standard of comparison was the wargs of long ago and the occasional domestic dog they'd caught sight of over the long years, there were raised eyebrows from the ellyn but no further comment. Perhaps Earlene and Lorna should drag the into watching The Lion King some night...it was a good deal safer than Hedwig and the hyenas were...hyenas. To her delight, Earlene caught sight of the giraffe building. "Oh!" she said, walking on ahead with more eagerness. There were platforms which to ascend, but Thanadir quickly moved to stop her, with something like panic in his eyes as he looked up at the quadrupeds that towered over him. "Come, my guard," she said laughing. "For all their size they are gentle, and will not harm anyone. Trust me, nothing that could harm anyone is allowed in a modern zoo. I am a lawyer, I know these things." Offering her hand, she led the skeptical elf up the steps as she exchanged a glance and an eye roll with Lorna...but all in good humor.

At the top, within seconds Thanadir found himself face to face with the head of a curious giraffe. If Earlene was charmed by him most of the time, the sight of him gazing into those limpid, deep purple pools of the animal's soft eyes just about pushed her to caressing his cheek. She actually had to ball her hand into a fist, it was the only way to stop herself.

How could Thanadir seem like a doe-eyed lad and a baby-sitter? It was probably an elf thing. Either way, Lorna happily bounded after them, finding a piece of rind to feed a giraffe. Pictures just didn't do them justice; obviously they were very tall, but they seemed even more so when you were standing right next to one.

The fence on the enclosed platform was tall enough that she had to do what she had no doubt you weren't supposed to do, and climb it a bit so she could reach. One of the giraffes, looking as gently derpy as they seemed to in all the pictures she'd ever seen, bent its head - but it didn't go after the rind, it went after her braid, which dangled over her shoulder into the enclosure.

Lorna flailed, dropping the rind. Mercifully, her hair must not have tasted very good, because the animal spit it out, leaving a quarter of it covered in slobber. Eeeew. "That was a mistake," she said, and hunted around for a water fountain. Fortunately there was one close enough down below that she could at least try to rinse out the worst of it.

"I didn't think her hair looked like leaves, but, I'm not a giraffe" Earlene said, admiring the animal. Ever since she was a little girl, she wondered what it would be like to ride one. Never mind that you'd fall off, never mind that there was nowhere to hold onto or that you'd need an extension ladder to even get up there. She would just always...wonder.

Can you even ride a horse, meluieg? Thranduil asked with amusement.

She arched her eyebrows. Likely not as well as you can, and it has been awhile, but I was known to hold my own on the back of a horse at gran's farm, she answered archly, assuming that the question was meant because her abilities were doubt. It was the use of the word even that caused her response to become somewhat frosty.

I am sorry, he said contritely. I should not have assumed that you have never ridden, looking down at her with what could only be described as sad eyes. He bent down to kiss her in apology, but something appallingly warm and slimy came between them, and his eyes flew open. Thanadir, in the meantime, had enjoyed a prime view of the giraffe's growing curiosity with his King and the resulting sampling of both his and Earlene's faces. The seneschal doubled over in helpless laughter, causing the King to sputter and Earlene to slide to her knees in laughter as well. The giraffe, in the meantime, saw nothing edible and walked off in search of something worthwhile, utterly bored.

Lorna had just about reascended the stairs when she saw the giraffe so handily cockblocking - well, kissblocking - Thranduil. His expression made her choke on her own spit, completely unable to keep her laughter at bay. It only grew worse when Thanadir got in on the action; she wound up leaning against the far railing, cackling so hard she could barely breathe. Of all the things she had never thought she'd see...she had just enough wherewithal to fish her phone out of her shirt and snap a picture, because seriously, Ratiri would never forgive her if she didn't immortalize that moment.

Thranduil remained speechless for a full minute, after which Earlene approached him (her laughter largely being under control) and kissed him full on the lips. "Would you like to try again?" she said, her eyes shining from having had such a good laugh. This seemed to mostly break the spell he was under. I am sorry for laughing but it really was very funny.

"I suppose it was," he smiled. "But I hope it is understandable that I now want off this platform." Thanadir immediately passed Thranduil to descend, shooting him a look of contrition. "i sadron nîn," he chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder to show there was no offense taken. He unbuttoned his well-slobbered outer shirt to reveal that he was wearing the Star Trek t-shirt Lorna had given him underneath.

"Could be worse," Lorna said, wiping her streaming eyes, her words still hitching with giggles. "At least it wasn't a monkey throwing a handful'v shite. They do that, y'know."

His expression changed. "You will forgive me if I would rather skip that particular exhibit," he said. "My dignity can only be assaulted so much in one day."

"Come," said Earlene, taking his hand and only now seeing his t-shirt. Get In, Losers, We're Gonna Boldly Go, it screamed. She bit the inside of her cheeks, refusing to react to it. How in hell had that come here? She'd packed his clothing... "Let's go see the King of Beasts. You'll feel better then," she quipped, hoping she wasn't pushing it too far as she caught a mischief filled giggle of approval from Lorna.

"They need to watch The Lion King," she said. "Fionn, I dare you to get in a staring contest with one. You'd probably actually win." Most people wouldn't, but elves, she had noticed, didn't seem to blink as often as humans did. They could probably out-stare damn near anything.

The animal is suitably impressive, he said to Earlene with approval, feeling somewhat mollified, watching as the big male cat strode toward them, fixing them with its eyes through the glass that separated them. For all he had seen in this life, a tiny thrill ran through him. That was the look of being marked as prey, though he knew that nothing could possibly happen here. There was a female also, and a cub, approaching the male lion playfully. "From Africa," Earlene quipped while the cub lazily swatted at his father's...dangling parts. In another few seconds the lioness was lying down and being mounted and….the sight of the mating was interrupted by the jarring whine of a small child all but shouting, "what's he DOING to her?" at which point both Lorna and Earlene had to back away, tears of laughter beginning to roll down their cheeks.

"This is the best zoo ever," she said, trying to catch her breath. That poor parent…

Lorna tried to pack it in, she really did, but she just couldn't do it. That kid...it would have been hilarious on its own, but that kid...well, he or she just got a lesson in the wonders of the natural world. And, because she was a little shit, she took a picture of that, too, because Ratiri needed to know just what kind of day they'd had. A glance at the elves showed a Thanadir who looked as amused as he decorously could, while Thranduil looked torn between a headache and losing his shit just like she and Earlene had. She'd never actually seen an elf pinch the bridge of their nose before; it was such a Mairead expression it only made her laugh harder.

Earlene smoothly tried to pretend none of that had just happened. "So it says there is a monorail we can take. We'd get off our feet for a bit, and might see an elephant. Not quite an oliphaunt, but so it goes," she grinned.

Thranduil offered his arm to his wife. "I think that would be an excellent idea," he laughed, with one final sideways glance at the mother who was so clearly struggling with how to explain sex to her toddler.

"No kid of mind is going to have to ask that question," Earlene muttered. "Get them around the goats and the roosters and put a stop to that ignorance right away."

"I found my da's skin mags," Lorna said. "I think I was seven or eight. Didn't have a clue in hell what I was looking at, so I asked Pat. I thought he'd catch fire, his face was that red. Once he'd got the mechanics worked out, I think my words were, 'That's disgusting.' Only, you know, less polite than that." Not words she wanted to say in public, where other small children might hear her. "Put me off the whole idea until I met Liam."

Earlene listened, realizing how sheltered she'd been until she was already an adult. Sure, she knew what sex was; you didn't be around farm animals without understanding the mechanics in a big hurry. But for herself? Maybe it was her parents' emphasis on everything else but that; it was hard to figure just now in hindsight. Maybe really it hadn't been until the internet made taking a look at this or that easy and absolutely anonymous that she'd educated herself a little more. But with no partner and no real interest in emulating what she saw (not to mention a sneaking suspicion that real people just didn't act like that under ordinary circumstances), it was another thing to be bypassed until Thranduil had allowed for all those curiosities to be answered.

"I have a question, if it isn't offensive to ask," Earlene said softly enough that only their group could possibly hear her. "I have heard from you more than once that you do not have the same issues as humans about the body and intimacy, so, here's hoping. Don't answer if you don't wish to. When you marry...I mean, when an elf marries another elf...do you educate each other, somehow about the act of intimacy? Do you somehow just know what to do? Because humans very often don't, and an amazing array of disasters that range from funny to tragic follow from that ignorance. Just like that kid you saw...plenty of humans will do anything to not tell their children about reproducing, whether it's animals or people. I just...wondered."

When Thanadir answered, Earlene had to remember to close her mouth before insects flew in. That was the last thing she expected. "We are all taught, at a young age, the ways in which our bodies work. All of them. Were I to wed, I would understand how to proceed. I will also comment that there are materials that were recorded, offering greater insight into these matters. Books, in plain language. As I have no wife, I have no interest in their content, but I would know where to look should the time ever come. I hope that answers your question," he said, with a smile.

"It does," she said, still in disbelief. "Thank you." Did not see that one coming. Not one bit, she thought, struggling to keep her expression neutral.

Lorna tried to picture elf parents sitting their kids down and giving them The Talk, and wondered just how they'd even go about it. Was it all distant and clinical? She couldn't imagine that, since while she'd bet they could be distant, she doubted they were ever really clinical. It was certainly a better way to learn about it all than finding your da's porno mags, which had been off-putting and unpleasant, and left her feeling like the whole act was probably just cheap and stupid and yet another way for women to get used. Not until she met Liam had she realized it could be otherwise.

She had to hand it to Mairead - when it came to that, her sister hadn't fucked around, she'd just told her kids what was up and that was that. And - uh-oh.

"I...will be right back," she said, making a break for the sign that, quite mercifully, said 'bathroom'. She was badly off her cycle, and she usually had cramps, but of course she'd fall to the Communists while she was on holiday - she always did, no matter where she went or when she was in her cycle. She didn't care how much of a line there was - if she had to, she'd duck behind a trash can and get on the cotton pony in front of God and everyone.

Earlene frowned, because there were only two reasons a woman needed to dash for the bathroom that badly. As it was, she could not be terribly helpful; near as she could tell, she had a nine to twelve month vacation from that issue. There has to be some bright side to transforming into an Oompa Loompa, she figured.

There was in fact a line, and Lorna did in fact give zero fucks. The bathroom was huge, with twelve rows of stalls on each side and a line of black plastic trash bins near the sinks. Fortunately for everyone else in the room, her tunic was, well, a tunic, and this saved her from flashing the entire lot of them. Once she had everything arranged and her hands washed, she glared at all of them, daring anyone to comment. The entire line of women and girls had gone quiet, staring at her with varying levels of disbelief and horror.

"What, you'd rather I wrecked my knickers? Fuck off." Out she stalked, in rather high dudgeon, not calming until she reached her little group. "Anyway. Where were we going?"

"Bird house," Earlene said, while Thranduil stared off into the sky. She wondered at this as well as his expression, but thought a hiatus from asking questions was in order. "Or rather, Bird House, via this monorail thingy." The two women were more than happy to plunk down into one of the train cars. Maybe it was the day of the week, but the place had a surprising lack of lines; they waited perhaps five minutes for their turn. This part of the visit was surprisingly tranquil. There were enough trees in the acres on acres of habitat that was gliding by to make her forget she was in the middle of one of the largest urban areas on the planet. Truthfully, just being on her arse for ten or so minutes made it more than worthwhile. They disembarked, and went to see the birds. In theory, none of those would be mating. In theory.

Lorna had a less-than-amiable relationship with birds, mainly because of their tendency to shit on everything. She liked them just fine as long as they stayed on a branch or something, but as soon as they started flying...not so much. Nevertheless, some of these were fascinating. Toucans she could recognize from pictures, but there were shitloads of what looked like different types of parrots, all varying sizes and colors, like jewels, or candy rolled in feathers. (And she'd know; her brother Mick had rolled a peppermint up in someone's fake costume feather boa as a kid. It looked like what you'd get if you skinned Elmo. Mick was always finding and stealing weird shit; the boa wasn't even the oddest thing he'd ever brought home.)

Thranduil found the birds to be lovely, but...perhaps he was suffering from seeing an excess of new creatures. That life on this earth exceeded what he'd known of, and to such a degree...this would take a very long time to fully absorb. And yet, there was the Internet. His seneschal's expression seemed to reflect much the same, and so it was with considerable relief when the words "sandwiches" and "outside" entered the dialogue. Not so far away was a magnificent fountain with few people, allowing them to bypass...what in Eru's name were those? They looked something like cattle, but...all wrong. Thanadir must have thought the same, because he asked Earlene what 'those' were.

"Bison. They are also commonly called buffalo. There were millions of them at one time, herds so large it was said that you could not see the end of them as they ran over the grasslands in the central plains of this country. And then men killed almost all of them for their hides," she said with disgust. Thranduil wanted to ask if she was perhaps exaggerating, but he would not make that mistake since she so plainly was not. It called to mind again meeting Aidan. Clearly, some humans were wonderful, and others were reprehensible. And yet after Fëanor could it truly be said that they were so very different? Though, Fëanor had been one, and humans that were evil seemed to have been many. This would not be an easy question to answer.

"They've cross-bred them with cows now," Lorna offered, trying to be surreptitious about re-arranging her leggings. "For food. Beefalo, I think they're called. They get bigger than normal cows, so you can get more food off them."

Thranduil tried to imagine this and really could not. But soon the sandwiches were passed around, and he was able to think of other things, like this construct the humans called a hoagie. He did not wish to admit how much he liked this food, and wondered if they could be made for him in Ireland.

Lorna did manage to keep her manners about her, mostly, and not completely inhale her sandwich. Whatever this was, it seemed very American, and she meant to see if Big Jamie could duplicate it Irish-style when they got home. "I don't know about anyone else, but my feet're going to kill me if we keep this up too much longer," she said. "I don't know why they're sore, given I'm on them all day back home, but Christ are they." That and she didn't want to have to ask Thranduil to deal with cramps while out and about. Yeah, it was easy and totally unobtrusive, but still. They hadn't kicked in yet, but they would. Of that she was entirely sure.

When Thranduil finished his sandwich, he turned sideways and patted the fountain border on which they all were sitting. "Put your feet up here, without the sandals. We will hardly make it through what Earlene has planned next, with both of you in pain."

Thanadir wordlessly asked the same of Earlene, who did not hesitate to comply. She had on sunglasses, and within a minute was not only enjoying herself completely while feeling the soreness dissolve from her feet and legs, she could also note the glares of unabashed envy that every woman marching a fleet of children into the zoo was sending in her direction at seeing this private Footrub at the Fountain spectacle. Smiling and waving would have been rude, but she was still tempted. Who was she kidding, if she saw this herself she'd be hard pressed not to ask if the ellyn were for hire. She might even beg.

Lorna wondered what it said about her, that getting on the cotton pony in front of God and everyone didn't faze her, but having a public footrub struck her as weird. Weird, but not anywhere near enough for her to say no, though she did silently apologize for the state of her feet. They'd been clean this morning, but she'd been walking on gritty pavement in sandals. Thank you. Seriously. If you two ever wanted to go undercover as humans with, y'know, actual jobs, you'd rake it in pretending to be masseuses. Provided they could handle touching a bunch of human feet, anyway. Mairead had told her horror stories of people coming in for pedicures with all sorts of awful...issues. Right now the ache of her feet and burn of her calves was draining away like water through a sieve. Perhaps fortunately, she was so busy lounging and appreciating the lack of ouch that she didn't notice the looks anyone was giving, because some things were too awkward. At least, not until some passing, unseen woman muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "Wish my boyfriend would rub my feet."

No. No. Bad. Wrong. So, so, so wrong. She was so disturbed she barely heard another passing woman mutter something about 'tampons' and 'in front of everyone.' That made her automatically flip the bird; she was too agitated to do anything more. Just...no. She actually twitched a bit. (And yet she didn't withdraw her feet. Priorities. Being skeeved did not outweigh a nice foot rub, and never would. Some things were just instinct.)

Thranduil gave her toe a gentle pinch by way of mild rebuke, but could not keep himself from grinning at her and shaking his head. Only Lorna.

The botanical gardens next to the zoo were sheer magnificence. For all that the ellyn enjoyed seeing the animals, this was a place with which they seemed to have a spiritual alignment. There were multiple arboretums. Gardens for roses and lilies, bulbs and peonies. An actual forest. Lilacs and aquatic plants and...it was unreal. There was strangely little talking among them. Lorna walked holding Thranduil's arm, and Earlene took Thanadir's. While it was not the same as time spent with them at night in their own forest (nothing was ever, ever going to compare with that), this was not so far off. The lush greens of summer were very beautiful, and there were so many acres here that their wanderings almost made them feel as if they had the place to themselves, though of course that wasn't true.

"I wouldn't've thought New York would have something like this," Lorna said, eying a massive magnolia. She really, really wanted to climb it, and was entirely sure she'd get shouted at by some park aide if she did. Damn. "It's a city. They all have parks, but this is a bit more than a park." She wondered if the elves would...recharge, here, like batteries. Depriving them of some kind of nature for too long probably wouldn't be any fun for them at all - hell, anymore, she wouldn't enjoy it, either, but she was human. They were connected to the earth in ways she wasn't.

The pinnacle of all of it was the conserved forest that was here, especially once Earlene read the signs explaining it. This entire place was chosen in 1895, because it was on a chunk of land that represented an uncut, original, native forest. Meaning, that here she had a vision of what it had looked like before humans crossed the sea and began to change it all into something very different. This thought, the sheer contrast...she felt it like a weight on her heart. How it was that she had never thought of these things before formed an amorphous curiosity in her mind, but it was nothing for which she could frame words. Walking here, now, in the care of a woodland elf...maybe part of what is happening to me is that I am awakening to how much I want nothing else but this. She glanced up at Thanadir and for the first time, recognized how much she envied him. Them. All of them. They would always have this, and it tore at her heart a little. You can't think about it, she admonished herself. At least she had here, and now. Exactly two humans in the entire world were walking in a forest, with elves. And she was one of them.

Thranduil listened, and could say nothing. For this, he had no answers, and her limited years were a sorrow he was unwilling to consider.

God, Lorna wanted to climb that magnolia. Being a mature adult sucked, somehow all the more so because she'd turned forty. Otherwise, some of this reminded her very much of the woods behind her cottage. "You lot should come see my woods sometime," she said, looking at Thranduil. "They're not like yours, but nothing is. I wandered about in there a lot with Gran, after I first lost Liam. It's peaceful, and there's a few paths. Great-granddad even built a bridge over the one decent-sized stream." And Gran had, in all seriousness, put milk outside at night for the fairies. If only she'd lived this long - but then, Gran was Gran. She wouldn't pinch Thanadir's cheek, she'd pinch his arse.

"I would like that," he said with sincerity, while at the same time trying to frame the disparity between the spiritual musings of Earlene and Lorna's thoughts. These two could not be more different, and yet it was those extreme divergences that provided him with such joy. "You know," he said, "I would know if others were nearby. And if you did not make inordinate amounts of noise or shout, I could also keep them from seeing you in the tree. Should someone come along," he clarified. The twinkling in his eyes was as close as he would go to open encouragement.

Lorna's eyebrows rose, and she grinned. "You," she said, "are an enabler. And I am not going to complain at all." Setting her bag aside, she kicked off her sandals and darted across the grass, for the moment deliberately forgetting that she was a forty-year-old woman. When she was a child, she'd always wanted trees to climb, but the shitty end of south Dublin had a sad dearth of them. Not until she and Liam went traveling had she been able to, while he hovered below her in every expectation she'd fall out.

Up she went, rather like a cat; Lorna was not normally an unduly graceful person, but put her in a tree and she could easily follow a squirrel. The bark was rough beneath her hands and her bare feet, the heady scent of the flowers heavy around her. Up she went, and higher still, surrounded by pale pink, slightly waxy blossoms. Shutting her eyes, she basked in it, the heat of the day temporarily calming rather than oppressive.

Earlene heard...movement, and turned to see what caused the sound, and her mouth fell open with mildly indignant envy. But she didn't want to climb a magnolia; she'd made eyes not thirty seconds ago at a laurel tree they'd just passed. "No fair!" Releasing her hold on Thanadir's arm, she turned on a dime and made tracks for the tree, running as fast as she wanted to. Which right now equalled, as fast as she could. Her hair streamed behind her as she grinned in anticipation, and timed her approach and the running jump she would take into the crotch of the tree. She'd found a rock wall climbing facility over a year before her departure, and she missed the activity; she'd been rather good at it. The arboreal specimen in question had a variety of scaffold limbs and ninety degree angles, and she had herself a pleasant thirty feet off the ground before the shrinking size of the limbs ended her ascent. Little fuzzy white blossoms were everywhere around the leaves, and it was just...lovely. And only then did it cross her mind. "You are right behind me, aren't you, my Lord? I should have thought to announce my intentions but I had a sudden fit of impulsiveness," she said in some measure of lighthearted apology, laughing while she tried to turn herself.

Thanadir's face was amused more than irritated. "You behave much like an elfling, Earlene, and it surprises me."

She tilted her head. "Are elflings prone to random moments of being mildly irresponsible?"

"Yes, and sometimes it is not 'mildly', but I do not wish to give you ideas", he smirked.

His logic could hardly be faulted, and, she guessed he would prefer that they returned to the ground, and yet…"I cannot descend if you are positioned there," she pointed out with humor.

He effortlessly leaped over to another branch, gesturing with a measure of glee in his eye that she now had no such hindrance. That looks so fun! but...no. It was unfair to tax his sensibilities further, and she was too high up to risk falling. With a smile, she descended easily to the crotch of the tree, only to realize with a frown that it had one of those shapes that made climbing up far easier than the reverse. She had almost worked out a way to jump down when Thanadir looked up at her from the ground. It took willpower to resist calling him a show-off, but she managed. Smirking at her predicament for only a moment, his face softened and he held out his arms to her. "You want me to jump to you?" she asked dubiously, not seeing how that wouldn't get both of them flattened in an unpleasant heap.

He crossed his arms in mock indignation before resuming his gesture of invitation. "Estelio nin, Earlene," he said softly. (trust me)

Well, damn, she thought. She'd really, really rather just do this on her own and...dammit. But, I do trust him... If there was such a thing as jumping lightly, she tried to do it, at least in her mind. And then she was on her feet, his hands at her waist. Nothing had hurt, and she hadn't even landed hard. "Manen agoreg?" (How did you do that?)...Ú, man agoreg….?" (No, what did you do?) She stared at him.

He offered his arm, smiled unfathomably, and replied "Ni edhel," (I am an elf) as if that explained everything.

Unless Lorna was much mistaken, Earlene had picked a tree herself. The thought made her grin - Earlene was always so...not dignified, precisely, but close. So adult. That she would be willing to climb a tree, like a child, like Lorna - it had to be a good thing.

Lorna, however, abruptly decided she needed out of hers, because something small and many-legged landed on her nose, tiny wings fanning her skin. When she opened her eyes, they immediately crossed, but spotted a very large bumblebee.

"Shoo," she said, lightly nudging it with her forefinger. It apparently didn't want to, but it also didn't seem poised to sting her; it just wanted a break, and her face was a good place to land. So she let it sit, shutting her eyes when it tromped its way up to her forehead. Eventually it took off, and she half-climbed, half-fell out of the tree (going down always was harder than going up, but whatever). She had petals stuck on her shirt, in her hair, and one, somehow, between the toes of her left foot.

At the end of this final walk, they all looked at each other, and it did not need words. Their time had been magical, but...Food. Drink. Go Home, such as it was. On the cross-town bus, Earlene stared at the assorted billboards and ads that flew past her tired eyeballs and saw one that cheered her. "Hey Lorna, did you know they are going to do a human remake of the Disney Beauty and the Beast? I read an article about it, and it sounds like it'll be incredible."

"Are they?" Lorna asked. "Gaston reminds me way too much'v bloody Aidan." Glancing at the elves, she wondered what they'd make of it. Had they even seen 2D animation before? Beauty and the Beast was as good an introduction as any; it had won awards, if she recalled correctly. "If it's on the cable menu, we should watch it. Human fairytales are interesting things, though the ones you get nowadays are just a bit different than the ones written a few hundred years ago." She'd never forget when she found out how the original Little Mermaid had gone. Good fucking grief. Hans Christian Andersen, he clearly had some issues.

"I love that movie. We should watch it regardless; there is almost always a version lurking on YouTube if nothing else." Earlene actually cackled. "Aidan. No oooooooone fights like Gaston…"

Lorna immediately jumped in, waving her arm in a sweeping gesture that narrowly avoided smacking the poor bastard to her left.. "Douses lights like Gaston…."

And then, they were both on it, much to the horror of the ellyn. "In a wrestling match nobody bites like Gaston!" After which, fortunately, they both began laughing uncontrollably, irritating the hell out of the dour commuters. And neither Earlene nor Lorna gave any fucks, though Thranduil and Thanadir flashed some of the other riders shrugs of apology.

* * *

Lorna, both footsore and rather crampy, claimed the bathroom when they got back to the hotel, taking a nice long soak. While the tub wasn't a patch on hers in the Halls or in her cottage (she'd sprung for a damn nice one, when she renovated) it was still relaxing. New York really was grimy, even more so than Dublin, and the rooms were so white that she didn't dare touch anything. Eventually, clean, relaxed, and swamped in sweatpants and a T-shirt she'd stolen from Ratiri (a very old, faded Nirvana shirt he'd been holding onto for twenty years, black with a yellow smiley face), she wadded up the pillows so she could rest against the headboard. Hey Thranduil, can you fix my cramps? she asked, still feeling just a touch awkward about it. Why, she had no idea, but whatever. None of them thought it was weird, so she'd get over it.

(Ratiri, though...Ratiri, who was a bit more conventional than Lorna was, and was carrying preconceived notions about the elves, however much he was trying to discard them...sooner or later they'd blue-screen his brain, poor guy.)

The King, looking up from his laptop screen with a slightly weary expression after the sum of the day, held out his hand to her. While he wouldn't say it aloud, it warmed his heart that someone this reticent had begun to trust him so much. Nothing could be easier, and that problem was soon fixed.

Thanks, she said, already more relaxed. Speaking of Ratiri, she fired up her laptop and downloaded the day's pictures. He would appreciate them in a way no other could. Lion sex, her as a butterfly-magnet, and Thranduil getting licked by a giraffe...he was going to wonder if New York would survive the lot of them.

Earlene disappeared into the bathroom not long after Lorna emerged, and if Thanadir or Lorna noticed Thranduil slip in after her, they were wise enough not to comment on it in any manner. Lorna just stuck her headphones in, doing her best not to be slightly squicked (seriously, Thranduil had so reached Pat-status in her mind that just...no). Fortunately there was YouTube and cat videos.

"Poor Lorna is drowning out what she fears we are doing in here together," he smiled at Earlene as they undressed.

A grin of reply quickly softened to a reflective look. "Most times, I could be persuaded. But after today...all I want is to sit in hot water, with you holding me, if we can somehow actually both fit in there."

"We will manage." He unclasped her necklace for her, and laid it aside. He cradled her against him in the steaming water, while they exchange silent and private thoughts.

When they emerged, Earlene flopped on the bed. "Hot water fixes everything. It also does something to make your skeleton not solid anymore," she groaned, fumbling for the remote. She did not seem to care that it looked a little odd for her to be searching the TV options with her head hung upside down off the end of the bed. "Ha! Found it!" she exclaimed triumphantly, rolling over onto her stomach. "OK, whenever everyone's ready" she piped up. "No way in hell I want to go out, and that means, we're getting room service. Here's the menu, figure out what you want everyone…."

Fifteen minutes later, they began their silly evening, all piled on the bed closer to the flat screen TV. Thanadir's popularity rose to an all-time high as he kept on with more foot rubs, and Lorna and Earlene happily sang along to the whole damn movie at what for them was a reasonably quiet volume. "Little town, it's a quiet village. Every day, like the one before…"

It had been a good day, all in all. Weird, but good. And yet, weren't they all? When elves were involved, there was no such thing as 'normal'.

Notes:

Endnote: While we've gone to great pains to describe these places as they actually are, we made one exception: there is no interactive structure at the Bronx Zoo that allows one to pet the giraffes. But we couldn't resist the idea of the scene, so, there it is anyway.


	36. Chapter 36

The next morning found them at their now-familiar ritual of sipping coffee and assaulting the baked goods case at Tisserie; by now most of the staff must have heard of Thanadir's appetite, as they covertly and not-so-covertly watched him devour pastry after pastry. Lorna, not trying to be remotely covert, took a picture of him and his empty, crumb-filled plate. She still had no idea where he put it all, unless his stomach was a TARDIS. His T-shirt was fitted enough that she'd be able to tell if he had a food baby.

It was a good deal hotter than it had been the day before - 78 degrees fahrenheit, which she'd had to convert on her phone to 25 and a half degrees celsius. Not hot by New York standards, apparently, but broiling by that of the Irish; fortunately, the nicest of her tunics, the black velvet one, had short sleeves. Thranduil had fixed the scar on her left leg (though the pin had to stay in; there was simply no way of getting _that_ out short of surgery), so she no longer had to be self-conscious about letting anyone actually see her legs. She also wrapped her braid around her head like a crown, to keep it off the back of her neck. She was fast discovering that having long, thick hair in a hot and humid climate was not a comfortable thing, and she prayed their day's destinations had air conditioning. Earlene had lived here for years, and was no doubt used to it, and Lorna was quite sure elves didn't care about extremes of temperature unless they were really extreme, but she'd lived almost all her life on a tiny island where the average summer temperature was 16 degrees celsius, which was about 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

Just the knowledge that today would not be overshadowed by her brother was enough to restore Earlene's overall enthusiasm. However, she had taken some time after _Beauty and the Beast_ to send a very detailed email to Claire, her lawyer. If it contained more detail than would be usual in a professional setting, she hoped she could be forgiven. Claire was a friend, and not only someone on retainer. It was not possible to leave out her mixed feelings of being very excited about Allanah and completely disgusted with every aspect of her brother's demeanor. The ball was now out of her court, at least for the moment. But in the back of her mind, her thoughts were already simmering on at least one thing: Adoptions usually required the oversight of social workers. Specifically, an inspection of the prospective home for suitability, safety, etc etc. That whoever these people might be would never see the Halls of the Elvenking went without saying, which left her poor cottage to be the alleged reflection of Allanah's future home. The unused room that currently housed every item she'd not quite decided what to do with would have to be converted to a nursery. And what did it matter, she had an entire barn; it wasn't like storage space had to be an issue. Would it be wise, or necessary, to add on to the home itself? The little place was already the scene of so much more activity than she could ever have envisioned...and while the social workers might not know it, the additional reality was, two more children were on the way. Not all their time was spent at the Halls; the baby would need a suitable place of her own. The _babies_...at least they were all female. Yet it was hardly realistic to expect that past infancy, the children would be content to share a tiny, cramped room. And Thranduil had said that their own children would be different; precocious. She shook her head as she sipped the swirls of the whipped cream melting atop her mocha. These were all matters that could be left to later.

Earlene stifled a grin as she nibbled on her spinach and cheese croissant. She'd caught just after they arrived today that every moment the staff behind the counter had a lull in their patrons, glances were being cast at the seneschal, who had limited himself to only five baked goods this morning, and a yogurt parfait. Part of her was glad that she was both relatively wealthy and that she had mentally agreed with herself that she would not be evidencing her customary frugality on this trip. Not six months ago she would have been horrified at the sums of money going to food, drink, and admission to the assorted attractions but...not this time. Money no longer even had real meaning, not when her own portfolio was now backed by a literal King's ransom in wealth. Her own resources were merely a conduit for what Thranduil would provide; she wasn't really spending her own funds, truth be told. And as the beautiful seneschal appeared to be finishing the last of his morning beverage...she decided to leave Lorna and Thranduil here to relax a few moments longer, and take Thanadir with her to the deli across the street for their day's lunch supplies.

Lorna had already decided that she'd been missing out all these years, in her stubborn refusal to drink coffee. Admittedly, this was coffee with a load of cream and sugar, but still. "All right, I didn't want to make Earlene feel guilty by asking this," she said, draining the last of her mug (which was more the size of a small bowl; _everything_ in America was huge). "Is there any way to deal with, y'know, this heat? Because too much time out there and I'll drop, but I don't want Earlene worrying I'll keel over from heat stroke every time she looks at me."

Thranduil looked up from the front page section of the Times and frowned, recalling that he had caught thoughts of discomfort from her off and on, when they were at the zoo. "Yes, I can help you. But we should also ask Earlene. There may be some very simple solutions to this that we have not considered. I will acknowledge that it is far warmer here, but Cian and I have a much greater zone of comfort and adapt quicker to changes. Try to remember, Earlene does not worry about the same sorts of things you do. She does not lack empathy, but neither would she hover over you in anticipation of your dropping in your tracks. But either way, I will make sure I pay greater attention. I am not certain of today's plans, but I believe that much of our time will be spent indoors."

Lorna laughed. "I'd figured as much," she said. "It probably takes some bloody extreme hot or cold to faze you lot. This is literally the hottest weather I've ever seen, though; Ireland isn't exactly known for what anyone here would probably call a heat wave. So long as she's not worried, though - my problem is that I've lived too long around hoverers. Mairead, Gran, even Big Jamie...they've rubbed off on me in a bad, bad way."

Earlene and Thanadir returned, with Earlene biting her cheeks hard. Lorna raised her eyebrows, seeing that the seneschal was laden down with what appeared to be more than four sandwiches, if the bulge in the paper bags he carried were any indication. Making her beloved grabby-hands gesture, she took the food from him to find how to possibly stow all that in her leather satchel. She'd give credit for one thing; these New Yorkers knew how to wrap food.

"We should go now, if everyone is ready?" Earlene announced. A temporarily unfocused look came over her face as her husband passed on information silently. _Ah. The first thing for that is, a wet cloth around one's neck. And I have such a thing in my purse; it has not yet been warm enough for me to need it._ Thranduil nodded, and she continued aloud. "The first thing today is the Metropolitan Museum, one of my favorite places. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and, you'll be pleased to know it's air-conditioned," she smiled, as she led them outside and hailed a cab. They'd be on their feet quite enough today, there was no need to add taking public transportation there to the list.

"I looked it up on Google last night," Lorna said, hefting her bag. "It seems to be up there with the Louvre or the British Museum in terms'v she sheer amount'v stuff in it." Not that she'd been to either of those places, but she knew they were two of the biggest museums in the world. Though of them made her vaguely nervous, for the purely nonsensical fear that she might somehow accidentally touch and break something, despite the fact that that was pretty much impossible.

The cabbie dropped them off near the steps to the imposingly large building, which looked very much like it would be at home in one of the great cities of Europe. Give or take the food carts hawking every imaginable form of sausage and other street fare; all three of them surreptitiously glanced at Thanadir, who apparently was actually full. His head did not even turn toward the delicious smells, so interested was he in what lay ahead.

Lorna was just glad to get into the air conditioning, but she just about halted in her steps. While she'd seen a picture of this online last night, the reality, like so much she'd seen in this city, was so much _more_.

Like half the things she'd seen in New York, it was far larger than it had to be, pale stone shaped into massive walls and arches, much like a cathedral, with a massive, round skylight over the very center. It was crowded, but not unduly so; she wasn't worried about being trampled underfoot. Even so, it echoed, the room vast enough that even ordinary speech was amplified into a slightly bewildering din.

There was, fortunately, one of those 'you are here' signs, so they wouldn't be wandering aimlessly. Egyptian art was probably among the oldest here, maybe going back five or six thousand years - a scarcely-conceivable time to a human, but probably little time at all for an elf.

Earlene knew the place, though; she'd likely be a better guide than any of the ones that came with the place, since she'd know how best to answer the elves' questions. Lorna's knowledge of ancient Egypt was, like so many things, limited to fairly useless trivia: the fact that when a family's cat died, they shaved their eyebrows and stayed in mourning until they grew back, or that most people got around the endemic head lice issue by shaving their heads and wearing wigs. Of the actually important bits of history she knew next to nothing.

On arrival, the three who had not seen this place before were given the chance to ogle the Great Hall, so lovely and ornate. Earlene could tell that even Thranduil was suitably impressed, for while it was different of course, there were echoes of the beauty of his stone Halls here. When everyone seemed to have absorbed what they wished, Earlene steered them toward Egypt. There were few other patrons near them, and she turned to her husband while they stood in front of a lavishly painted wooden sarcophagus. "You said to me once, early on that before there were pyramids in Egypt, you existed in the forest. That phrase always stuck with me. But what I always wanted to ask you was, if you never left your woods, how did you know any such things existed?" Her keen eyes stared up at him as she crossed her arms.

Lorna, who recalled hearing something similar from Thranduil in the past, thought that was a damn good question, and joined Earlene in staring him down. Thanadir simply kept his Mona Lisa smile, while meandering nearby to admire a statue of Bast in a display case.

The King looked from woman to woman and smiled; it was an insightful query yet he felt the answer would disappoint them. "I did not wander off and visit those lands, if that is what you are wondering," he said. "But others did. Two men came along the road near the forest one day, travelers and explorers. This was perhaps one hundred and fifty of your years prior. What exactly they were doing in a place like Lasg'len I never knew. But as they walked, they told their stories, and in short order I was intrigued a great deal. I will confess to having followed them unseen, for some time, just to hear their tales and see the images in their thoughts. It was amazing, to me, and it is how I learned some things concerning the outside world. When you came to me, Earlene, it was the only thing I knew of that was very old in the human world, to use by way of reference. Not very exciting, perhaps, but that is the answer."

 _What a day that must have been, in the life of a bored elf_ , Earlene reasoned. "All this must be so...entertaining, for you," she realized. While there were no pyramids here, a great deal of human history was crammed under this roof. The best of them, in a way. Nothing was here because it was worthless, or lacked a story to tell.

Lorna and Earlene moved past the jewelry and the baskets (how in fuck did a basket survive for three and a half thousand years, without elves?) to the Temple of Dendur, where they spent some time looking at the hieroglyphs just inches from their faces. "I learned a little about these, once," Earlene said, resisting with difficulty the temptation to reach out and touch the carvings. "Their language is insane; Sindarin is ten thousand times easier. For example, see that one that looks like squiggly lines? That is what is called a uniliteral. That is both the sign for water, and also the sign for the sound of "n". And there are biliterals and triliterals. And there is grammar, and rules for combining them and...it's a goddamn nightmare, is what it is," she said thoughtfully. "Rosetta Stone or no, how anyone ever made up from down out of hieroglyphs is a miracle."

"They had a bloody complex culture," Lorna said, "and a bit'v a weird one." She tried to stand on her tiptoes to read the plaque beside a fragment of pale, carven stone. "When you died, they mummified you, when meant yanking out all your organs and sticking them in jars. The theory was that once you got to the afterlife, you'd still have all your bits, though I'm not sure just what good having everything in jars would do. You got buried with whatever treasure you actually had, which just meant your tomb got looted at first opportunity by anyone brave enough to risk pissing off the dead."

Eying the line of sarcophagi, she added, "So, there was this king, right, King Tut, who died and got buried and forgot about, so when he got found in the nineteen-twenties, his tomb was pretty much untouched. This English tosser decided to take half the shite to their museum, against the warnings'v the native Egyptians, and a bunch'v the people involved in it died or had some other awful thing happen to them. It made the idea of a 'mummy curse' really popular."

"I've never know what to think of that," Earlene quipped. "Yeah the British and the French arguably packed off with gobs of what wasn't theirs to have, but at the time Egypt was a hopeless excuse for a society, and had it not gone to the hands of academics at the time, would any of it be left at all? It seems so hard to say. I mean, look at that broad collar there, all that gold and those beautiful stones. How in hell did they even manage, and you can't tell me it wouldn't have been ruined in some backwater of Cairo had it not gone to a museum. That and ten thousand other things like it," she trailed off.

"One'v those questions that can't be answered," Lorna said. "On the one hand, they'd left it alone for thousands'v years already, but on the other, a lot'v them were desperate. Then again, I automatically have to call bullshit on anything the English do, ever. If I don't, they'll take my Irish license away," she said, giving Thranduil a side-eyed grin. She hadn't forgotten what he'd said, and the thought of Thanadir somehow taking away his license to be an Elf king was just too damn hilarious. "Oi, so, you see that statue'v the cat? We domesticated dogs, but the theory is that cats just sort'v...moved in, and domesticated themselves. They got rid'v the rats and mice that ate the grain, and they were cute and fuzzy, and the Egyptians wound up worshipping them like gods."

"And Droopy, Wobbles, and Hunnie Bunnie do not know that anything has changed," quipped Thanadir to appreciative laughter from everyone but Thranduil, who had not yet had the pleasure of meeting these feline monstrosities. However, of the four of them, Thranduil was the one who most often was found indulging little Tail. He decided that never mentioning finding the kitten in the platter of meat would be wise.

Lorna, now somehow at the head of the line, bypassed the American wing for now, heading to Arms and Armor. This was more her style, because it was more her history. She'd never seen a suit of plate armor in real life, and it looked like an absolute bitch to wear. She could only imagine how long it must have taken to get on right. "Fun but disgusting fact? That armor was so difficult to get in and out'v that the knight would just shit and piss in it, and his page had to deal with cleaning it afterward." Unable to ask this aloud for security reasons, she added, _I can't imagine you lot doing that, so how the hell did you manage it? Or do you just not have to go as often as we do?_ Not a question she would have ever thought she'd ask, but hey, it was a good one. Inquiring minds needed to know. Ratiri would also be interested in the answer. What she did not anticipate was that Thranduil would immediately brainwave this query over to Thanadir.

The seneschal erupted into laughter that he then attempted to stifle against Earlene's shoulder while she patted him on the back. _Oh, this had to be good, if the elves were both laughing at it_...and "it" almost assuredly came from Lorna, Earlene reasoned, just before her husband brought her up to speed. Even Thranduil seemed perilously close to, as Lorna might say, losing his shit. When another visitor fired an accusatory glance in the seneschal's direction, Earlene said aloud, frostily and in her best fake accent, "Well, we're Eye-rish, so if we want to talk about Henry the Eighth shitting his trousers, what's it to you?" The woman's eyes widened and she hurriedly retreated to the other side of the room, at which point Earlene joined them in laughter. _Oh, this was not going as planned but who cares…._

And it was, after all exactly the display they were at; one of the dear monarch's last suits of armor, when his personal corpulence must have been at impressive proportions.

Thranduil gently but firmly lined up his errant charges against the nearby wall until everyone regained their composure, though privately he found his wife's unexpected outburst to be hilarious. "The answer to your question is," he responded very quietly, "that you have not seen our armor. Since this subject intrigues you, I will happily don mine when we return home, and you will see that elven armor suffers from no such design flaws; we were more than able to take care of life's necessities in a sanitary manner at need; we were not orcs, by Eru." His voice was earnest but his eyes were twinkling. And now he would spend all day with these labelled as "privy suits" in his mind. _Oh, the trials of being a friend of Lorna…_

Fortunately they were all soon appreciating some of the finest weapons he had ever seen in the next rooms, of a kind he did not know. Earlene explained that these were early firearms, which only seemed to engender further confusion. So she first explained black powder, and shot and bullets, and that basically everything he was seeing were the technological evolutions of what they called guns, or firearms. An ornate powder horn or two helped them envision her descriptions of how they worked; the flintlock and the wheellock. But these were no ordinary weapons, inlaid as they were with gems and precious metals and ivory. "These were functional weapons, but they belonged to royalty; kings and queens, emperors and empresses. No ordinary person would have had anything like them." When the King's eyebrow raised, she hoped more questions would not follow. While it was possible to fire guns here in the States without undue difficulty, it was out of the question back home.

"You know how I keep saying European -" Lorna couldn't say _human_ , not out loud "- royalty sucked? Yeah, they did. They wanted to make sure nobody but them had anything fancy or useful, like these guns. The English kept the Irish from having them because having an armed population that actively hates you is a terrible idea. As a result, it was bloody hard to hunt anything, because nobody really knew how to make bows anymore - and the English got pissy if we killed their precious birds or rabbits anyway. Birds and rabbits were worth more than we were." And in that, at least, their own poor had shared. Impoverished English tenant farmers had starved right along with the Irish, worth no more to their so-called 'betters' than people on the other side of that narrow sea.

Thranduil digested all of this. It was true, for him, that he'd had gems, the finest of clothing, objects and trappings befitting the kingship he had claimed. But to enjoy these things while his people half-starved? To dress in silks while his subjects went half-naked? The behavior described was a moral outrage. He had always taken great pride in the welfare those who had given him their fealty. Down to the last child, his elves were well-fed, well-clothed, and well-housed. Each had some task to do, according to their desires and abilities. Their happiness meant a great deal to him; they were like his children, in a manner of speaking. These human monarchs sounded...execrable. But on their way out, both he and Thanadir stopped to greatly admire the rapiers and other variations on swords that were housed here; even though it was obvious that these were for ceremonial use only.

Feeling over-saturated in warfare, Earlene tugged them upstairs to something she at least knew Thanadir would enjoy; the collection of musical instruments. This was one of her favorites. There were concert recordings online, of some of the famous violins and other stringed instruments displayed here; especially the ones by Stradivarius. Which got her to thinking. The day of their wedding party, in town, how Thanadir had just picked up Bridie's violin and within seconds been able to play it. She should really see about buying one for him...talent like that deserved to have an entire music room at its disposal. Besides, from a purely selfish viewpoint, gifts like that to Thanadir would likely equal long hours of listening to him play when she was that beached whale that was now inevitably part of her future. For a moment she had a vision of being wrapped up on a cold winter's day, listening to music...and it was incredibly appealing.

"Who is this...Stradivarius?" asked Thanadir, enthralled by the instruments he knew he was not allowed to touch. "I see his name here, more than once." Earlene pondered how to frame the reply.

"It's not just one guy, it's a whole family," Lorna said, "though this one bloke was the main one who made these. The really big deal about Stradivarius violins is that nobody actually knows how he built them - the process was a secret, so people have tried and failed to re-create them for the last three hundred years or so. Supposedly they sound better than any other sort'v really good violin, but in blind testing they don't actually seem to. They're mainly so famous because nobody knows how the hell they were made."

Nodding, Earlene felt she could not have summed it up better, and moved on toward the piano...which she wished she could play. Come to think of it, she wished she could play something. Anything. With a slight feeling of bitterness, she looked on it as yet another bypassed opportunity. Had it been worth it, to push almost everything else aside to be so good, so well-regarded, at just one thing in this life? Or had it all been a colossal mistake, costing her more in lost enrichment and enjoyment than she could ever get back? _Well, it's not too late_ , she said to herself. _If you want to learn to play something, what's stopping you?_ While she stared at Cristofori's piano, she had no answer. What _was_ stopping her? Sure, it wouldn't be like for Thanadir, five minutes and he's playing Beethoven or whatever, but she was not incapable of learning… her thoughts drifted away on this until she felt the seneschal's arm slip around her own.

"Are you well, meldis?" he asked, as his attention was already being diverted to the object in front of him.

"I am, i Hîr nin. I was only lamenting to myself that I cannot play an instrument, followed by wondering exactly what is stopping me."

"If you do not have a good answer, perhaps we should seek to address that, Hiril vuin," he said softly. "Earlene, what is this, in front of us?"

"That is the first piano," she answered. "Or rather, it is the second piano, but it is the oldest of its kind still in existence of those made by the man who invented the instrument. Each of those keys can be pressed, alone or in combinations, to produce the sound. The sound of it is lovely, and there were many, many compositions written for it." And suddenly it flashed into her mind what she would like to learn, though it was completely mad. _Harpsichord_. She loved all the music written for harpsichord, and if she were to learn, that is what she would enjoy the most. _Yeah, because those are a dime a dozen on Amazon, she thought. Leave it to you to want the most impractical thing next to a….tuba._

She was about to pull away when she found her arm still firmly held; the seneschal smiled at her. "What instrument would you like to learn, if you could?" he asked.

Earlene had a deer-in-the-headlights moment, because having just figured that out, she could not tell him honestly that she did not know. "It's too impractical," she demurred. Which was the wrong thing to say entirely, because now she had gained his full attention.

"That was not what I asked you," he said with a note of sternness though he still smiled.

Sighing in defeat, she pointed across the room. "Those. All the music I most love to listen to is written for those. But they are not easy to find, and I would imagine they are very costly. They are like a piano, and yet not."

"Harpsichord?" he said, looking at her, only to see her nod as her cheeks flushed with some embarrassment. This could only lead in one direction, and now she'd put her foot in it, clean up to her ankle.

Lorna was highly distracted by the mandolins. They were one of the earliest precursors to a guitar, so of course she'd be interested in them. The construction of this type of stringed instrument really hadn't varied a great deal, right up until steel-stringed instruments came into being. She had been lucky enough to get her hands on a steel twelve-string once, but her stupid tiny hands hadn't be able to manage a bar chord worth a damn. She had all this bloody money now - maybe she should buy herself a better acoustic, but she was attached the one she'd had. She and Liam hand panhandled all over Ireland and Britain with it, and it was not a bad instrument. She'd try a violin, if she could get a well-made one in child-size. A piano was a nope, but she wouldn't have been able to fit one of _those_ in her cottage anyway. Trying to be a musician when you had freaking tiny child-hands took some creativity.

Thranduil had spent his time reading all the informational descriptions and wondering what in Eru's name half of these things sounded like when played. Then again, they would be home tonight, and there were videos on the Internet. That is, if they did not have another sing-a-long on his bed. The women were so silly at times, and yet it brought joy to see them in such light-hearted abandon. He had to stifle a laugh at his memory of what they'd done during one of the songs, taking the cutlery and cleaned plates from their meal and waving them about; he and Thanadir had been busy keeping all the items from being flung about the room...something about _Be Our Guest…_

It was soon time to move on, and they found themselves in an area with yet another ancient and lost civilization. This section housed exhibits from a place called Assyria, and the palace of an unpronounceable king. _Aren't you glad, my Lord, that you do not need rooms for purification and ritual protection?_ she teased.

Thranduil arched his eyebrows at her. _Are you certain I do not have them? After all, you have not see the entire Palace_ , he teased back.

 _True, but if you were sacrificing bulls in there I think I would have heard something by now_ , she smiled, getting in the last word. "Oooooh, Gates of Bablyon stuff," she said, moving off toward two lions depicted in bas relief in glazed tiles. "This place would have give yours a run for its money," she said very quietly, determined now to remember to show him the reconstructions of the Ishtar Gate so he could have an understanding of the context of these two creatures.

 _Hey Thranduil, how old were you, when this was current?_ Lorna asked. She still didn't know just how old either he or Thanadir were. "Okay, so, there was this guy in ancient Babylon named Ea-nasir, and he's got what's believed to be the world's oldest complaint form. He was into everything - copper, kitchen goods, second-hand clothes, and everyone hated him, because apparently he was a cheating gobshite. Anyway, he'd get this old-school hate-mail and he _kept_ it. All'v it, in some room in his house, and now we know who he is four thousand years later - all because he was an asshole."

 _When Babylon was current, or Assyria? I do not know Ea-nasir_ , he returned, with a smirk of amusement, before realizing that Lorna and Earlene had long reconciled themselves to a view of his age that was more or less accurate. Lorna had him at at least ten thousand years of age, and Earlene had begun to use closer to twenty thousand so...really, there was no point fearing any longer for their sensibilities. _I will be honest, Lorna, I would have to sit down with Thanadir and carefully compare calendars to tell you my exact age. There comes a time when one stops keeping precise records of such matters. Thanadir mentioned a figure of eighteen thousand years to Earlene some time back and...that would not be too far removed from accuracy._ The look in his eyes was almost apologetic but, there was nothing he could do about it.

Lorna's eyebrows shot to her hairline. _All of a sudden I don't feel bad about turning forty_ , she said.

It was the best answer she could have given, because it put him at ease and genuinely made him laugh. That they could share humor about a topic that in some ways was not funny in the least touched his heart.

Already at their visual saturation point, and yet with room upon room remaining to be viewed, they walked more quickly now. Bronzes and ornate Art Deco rooms bled into pillared halls, extravagant objects from the Far East, and even entire rooms preserved from other cultures and historical eras. Some time was allocated at the end to the store/gift shop, which had some really nice offerings. Lorna found a very pretty set of Art Deco peacock earrings for Mairead, who would find any and every excuse to wear them.

Finally, they'd had enough. "Bathrooms, anyone, before we leave, and do you mind if we eat outside? Earlene asked, with an overly hopeful look on her face that no one felt inclined to naysay. Being smart that way, the women made use of the facilities before departing. Earlene marvelled at how little elves seemed to need this function, and decided not to think about it. Especially given what she'd read pregnancy would do to her relationship with toilets. Lorna just needed to deal with the fact that when one rode the cotton pony, the pony occasionally had to be replaced. At least this time a stall was available.

They exited back out onto 5th Avenue and walked around the building. It was obvious that Earlene was on a mission to somewhere she wished to go and...ah. They rounded the corner of the museum to see that on the side of a small hill, there stood an obelisk. A little path led up to the base of it where there were benches, and with great happiness Earlene plunked down and waited for the distribution of sandwiches.

Soon everyone was munching their food, and after seeing Thranduil wrinkle his nose at the sharp scent of her lox and cream cheese sandwich (Earlene saw no need to eat anything _but_ lox, for the duration of this visit) she stood up to slowly circle the great pillar. _Here we are again, you and I. Except, I left, and here you still are_ , she reflected at the silent monument that told its praise of a forgotten Pharaoh to the skies above. _And I was right, I didn't belong here. And neither do you, though I suspect you are not going anywhere._ Earlene did not care about her odd mental relationship to this ancient carving. Seeing it once again felt like checking in with an old friend. She continued to eat her sandwich, and ponder all the changes that had come since she last stood here.

Lorna, already sweating, conscientiously chugged water while she ate her sandwich, mainly so she could tell Ratiri she did. It was so hot she almost wasn't hungry, but she ate anyway, knowing that if she didn't, she'd regret it later. She wondered if she could get away with dumping the rest of the water over her head without anyone looking at her weird.

 _Is Lorna too warm?_ Earlene asked Thranduil, temporarily breaking off from communing with the obelisk.

 _She is, meluieg._

 _I'll be right back; I need to get this wet_. A water fountain was not so far away; it would allow her to tank up herself as well as soak the bandana. Though, perhaps a better statement would be, the fountain was no so far away for a runner. She paused. Thanadir had finished his food. _Perhaps you could let Thanadir know; it will save him the trouble of being surprised when I leave. I need to run or else this will take forever._ Thranduil looked up with a grin and a slight nod, and seconds later Earlene was off to what she fondly thought of as The Watering Hole. They ran easily past several tourists whose wider middles spoke of the probable inability that they would run much of anywhere.

"Why are so many of those we see physically unfit?" Thanadir asked carefully, not entirely certain how to phrase this.

"Many reasons. We lead more sedentary lives now; just decades ago people had to move around more, do more physical labor. But the biggest reason of all is food. You have not been exposed to the worst of it because I refuse to buy it or eat it. Processed food. That means, all the things you see in the stores that are in bags and boxes and cans. Food that has had something done to it so that it lasts a very long time. Outside of our King's Realm, food is _supposed_ to spoil within a given amount of time. Fresh food has the nutrients bodies need. When vegetables and fruits and meats and grains are eaten, one isn't hungry later for foods that are not healthy. But the kind of food that most people eat fills the stomach but does not give nutrition. And so people are hungry for more and more of it. They weigh too much and become ill, while their bodies are actually starving. It is more complicated than what I am saying now, but, that is much of it."

Thanadir thought privately that for a human, Earlene ran very well; not so different than what the elves could do. He was fascinated by this thing called Public Drinking Fountain, which seemed like a marvel. Though, he watched as Earlene constantly had to move her head to keep the water from splashing in her face. "Did you want to try?" she grinned, wetting the cloth. He eyed it skeptically and declined, he was not particularly thirsty. Lorna was delivered of the bandana, which hopefully would keep her a little cooler. They walked at a very leisurely pace to the west, with the vague destination of Belvedere Castle. When they came within sight of it, Earlene pointed it out to Lorna with a grin. "They built it just to look nifty," she said.

New York, Lorna decided, was just full of surprises. An arboretum, and now a castle. A tiny castle, but a castle nonetheless. "It does," she said, pulling her phone out of her bra even as she scurried toward it, bag somewhat awkwardly thumping against her side, keeping her _eeeeee!_ internal. Ratiri was going to love this, she thought, as she snapped away before turning on the video camera. "Okay, so look at this," she said, panning it over the castle. It was about as big as a decent-sized house, suitably castle-esque for something produced in America. "Earlene says it was just built to look good, just...because. I'm going to see if you can actually go inside it." Even if not, she was totally willing to climb part of it. She'd climbed a tree, so why not a castle?

"There is no real explanation for this place, as near as I can tell," Earlene explained. It is what is called 'a folly.' In this instance that means a building whose purpose is to look good, for lack of better words. But I have read that there is a weather station here, and that it is a good place to watch birds." She eyed Lorna, frowning. "Thanadir, you may wish to turn guarding me over to a higher authority for the moment. I'd hate for our Lorna to end up on the wrong side of gravity." Whether to laugh or be mildly concerned, that was the question. Earlene watched her friend make a solid attempt at scaling a wall in a less than usual manner, but Thanadir was already silently closing the distance to her. Unlike that derp of a tourist that had managed to fall, she would at least have a safety net that hopefully would not be needed.

Lacking any other way to carry her phone, Lorna opted to hold it in her teeth, grateful her sandals had good soles. Not looking down, that was the real trick; this was rather higher than her tree of yesterday, but scrambling like a squirrel was not new to her.

Once she'd got up, however, and could survey her temporary domain, she realized just _how_ high she was, and, after snapping a few more pictures and some video, immediately started looking for a better way down. Climbing with her bag really had not been the wisest idea, but this was New York; like hell was she leaving it unattended.

A bit of scrabbling led her to a slightly lower slope, so she inched her way along it, scratching her arms on branches as she went, but still having far too much fun. She managed another shot of the castle, and paused to wipe her face with her damp bandanna.

 _I have a feeling she probably isn't supposed to be doing that_ Earlene sent to Thranduil. _I also have a feeling that the lone individual some hundreds of feet behind us might be a police officer. You might want to encourage her to descend. Quickly._

Thranduil wondered if this was even a shadow of what having three young ones would be like. _Lorna, you must jump down to Thanadir. He will not allow you to hurt yourself. Earlene tells me that this is wiser than the policeman who is nearby managing to see you there. It is likely not lawful to be climbing the building._

Thanadir, calm as always, held out his arms.

Despite knowing how tough elves were, the human instinct in Lorna's brain told her that she would squish Thanadir like a bug if she jumped from this height. _How can it not be legal? If it's not legal, there ought to be a bloody great sign._ Either way, trying to keep her bag steady, jump she did, eyes squeezed shut. Even such a modest fall was stomach-lurching, but at least she didn't knock Thanadir over when she landed. He didn't even stumble, which - well, _elves_.

Via silent communication everyone scuttled off hurriedly in the direction of the Lake. One or two bored passers-by had watched the little show and applauded, and, that was enough for Earlene. It would probably be a miracle if Lorna didn't flip them the bird. Or two birds, since this was Lorna. She rolled her eyes, but she need not have worried. Thanadir had offered his arm in a manner that suggested she might not get it back for a few minutes. Fortunately a particularly thick grove of trees obscured them nicely, and Earlene made off for the Bow Bridge. It was pretty and a relaxing sight, and only a little out of the way of their next destination. The lake was weirdly green at this time of year, but in New York any color that was not brown was probably a positive thing. That being said, she wouldn't swim in it even were it twenty degrees hotter.

Though Thanadir was obviously unwilling to relinquish Lorna's arm, she was more than adept at using her phone's camera, even if she had been getting a few weird looks for keeping it in her bra. Whatever. She got some lovely shots of the bridge, which looked rather like something out of a fairy tale. (Yes, she was a little tempted to use the railing as a balance-beam, but not _that_ tempted, since she knew full well she'd just fall off. She would behave, for once.)

In spite of the warmth of the day, the lake and trees were soothingly quiet, and reminded Earlene of many a run she'd enjoyed. If there was a trail in this park she didn't know, it was news to her. They strolled, saying little, until their path came to a mosaic circle with the word _'Imagine'_ inscribed in the middle. "I guess at least Lorna knows what this is," she said with a hint of sadness.

"Christ, where do I start?" Lorna asked. "With the Beatles? With Lennon? If I explain the Beatles, we'd be here all day. A musical phenomenon like that takes more than five minutes to describe. They were one'v a group who basically changed the face'v music in the last century. John Lennon, he was one'v them - kept making music even after the band split up. Beautiful music. Some mentaller shot him in the back in 1980, and I never have heard why. Maybe he didn't have a reason. People like that often don't."

"He lived right across the street," Earlene said, pointing up West 71st Street. "It happened right outside the building. That's The Dakota." Earlene paused. "What Lorna said, it was more than that. Not only were their songs amazing, a lot was happening at that time in the country. An unpopular war was being waged in Vietnam and there were many people that were very tired of it. People who wanted to see peace. Perhaps more than any of the other musicians, John Lennon spoke out uncompromisingly in favor of love and the idea that we should just all get along. He wasn't perfect, no one is, but his ideas resonated. This, here," she waved at the mosaic, "that was the name of one of his songs that said the most about all these sentiments. He wanted us to imagine a different world, a better world, because he felt that if enough people did the same we'd get there after all. We've not gotten there," she said softly. "Not at all."

"I dunno that it's as bad as that," Lorna mused, tracing a line of the flower with her toe. "I mean, it's _bad_ , but most people, I think, are good, when you get right down to it. Problem is that the good ones usually aren't the ones that seek power. I think most people just want to...live their lives. Raise their families. Be happy. The news, it only shows what sells - hate, fear, violence. It makes the world seem worse than it is - ignores the good that's there to balance out the bad. I can be pretty bloody cynical, but Gran thumped that into my head. Literally. She said if we lose sight'v the good beside the bad, what's the point?"

She shook her head. "I've seen some nasty, nasty shite in this world, but I've also seen wonderful things I'd never've expected. Little things, not something flashy. Kindness where I'd never've looked for it. There's a saying we've got, that love is blind, but sometimes I think it's silent, too. It doesn't always ask to be recognized."

"That's true," admitted Earlene, "and I don't mean to be a pessimist. I guess I was thinking in terms of the grand scale; about our ability to not have wars and terrorists and unchecked greed. Sure, all kinds of things happen on a smaller level that remind me that people are good."

Thranduil listened, fascinated. This was one of those honest and spontaneous discussions that told him more about mortals than anything else. Thanadir stood in front of the mosaic, leaning in and appreciating the symmetrical design of flower petals around the word Imagine. "That changes all the time," said Earlene quietly. "Since it was installed here, it rarely looks the same two days in a row."

He straightened up and fixed her with the doe eyes she suspected he knew she could not resist. "I do not know the song," he said plaintively.

She sighed, being more than a little shy about singing in front of others. But that look could make her walk into traffic, she felt fairly certain. It was a superpower. _Oh just sing the goddamn thing_ , she told herself. She was barely aware of taking his hand, to steady her nerves before they could run away.

"Imagine there's no heaven, It's easy if you try," she began in a strong and smooth voice. To her immense relief, Lorna joined in almost immediately, which made this seem easier.

"No hell below us, Above us only sky…" And that was when the unexpected happened. They were not singing loudly, but it was enough to be heard by two others who were not so far away. They too joined in.

"Imagine all the people, living for today…" A few more came and their voices were added.

"Imagine there's no countries, It isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, And no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace…" And suddenly they were a magnet of sorts; people were jogging over and a circle was forming. Thanadir was astonished and did not understand their behavior. But his Queen was safe; none of these mortals seemed to intend harm, and not a one of them stepped on the mosaic, he noticed. And neither Earlene or Lorna seemed to be the least concerned beyond mild surprise.

"You may say I'm a dreamer, But I'm not the only one. I hope some day you'll join us, And the world will be as one...

Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can. No need for greed or hunger, A brotherhood of man.

Imagine all the people sharing all the world…" Thranduil did not know humans could or would do...this. It was spontaneous, and every thought that surrounded him revealed that they sang because they wanted this. They wanted the world the words described, very much, and this was a way to express that. This was far more than a song. Even Lorna, who he feared might be ready to assault someone for being too close by, seemed to be in harmony with the moment.

"You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope some day you'll join us And the world will be as one…"

It ended as quickly as it began; in seconds what had seemed like at least sixty people _where had they all come from?_ dispersed, leaving the four of them.

"Well, I think we just created a flash mob," said Earlene, shaking her head in mild disbelief. "And now you know the song...Cian."

"You wouldn't find _that_ in Dublin," Lorna said, looking at the suddenly empty space around them. "But I don't know that I'm that surprised. I think we want it all the more because it doesn't look likely we'll get it. The ones that go after real power, the ones who're looking at the government - there's good ones, yeah, but there's also a lot'v arseholes, no matter what kind'v government you've got. Difference with democracies and republics is that they're answerable to other people, and if they break the rules, they get kicked out." That was the theory, anyway; she was quite sure there were plenty out there that _should_ get kicked out but didn't, because money. "Maybe, with this next generation - a lot'v the worst bigots in many places are older, by our standards, sixty-odd on up. It sounds a bit brutal, but once they die off, the world might be a better place."

Earlene wasn't so sure, because in the last two millennia, every time some arse died off, a different or bigger arse managed to fill the space. _Nature abhors a vacuum_ , she thought. _And apparently so does politics_. With a shrug to herself she realized she was still holding Thanadir's hand and dropped it, coming back to reality and fishing her phone from her little backpack purse. It was nearing four o'clock which meant, it was time to close the distance to Lincoln Center. Regardless of their exact path, there were buildings and traffic, so she elected to take them down Columbus Avenue because, why not? As they crossed 65th Street, she explained the famed Julliard School and its near-legendary status in the performing arts, before guiding them into the impressive complex of theaters and music halls. "I wanted to take us to something I hoped especially Thanadir would enjoy," she said, "though this is a little odder than I envisioned. We are going to see the New York City Ballet, and there was little choice as to the program given the short length of our time here. The dances tell two different stories that are set to more modern music by an important Russian composer. That is another way to say, music that is less pretty and more dissonant at times, yet no less filled with emotion. The two dances are called "The Firebird" and "The Rite of Spring". The first is about a magical bird who helps a prince fight against an evil sorcerer. The other is about pagan rituals; an expression of primitive worship, and at the end a chosen virgin dances until she dies in sacrifice to...something or other." The ellyn stared at her, and she shrugged. "I didn't write the thing, and, I definitely cannot explain Russians. Though, interestingly enough, when the Rite of Spring was first performed it caused a riot. People were not ready for the precious tradition of ballet to turn into this, nor were they interested in seeing the darker side of humanity as subject matter," Earlene smiled. _That was the thing about classical arts, you didn't have to make up all the parts that were weird about it._

"I'm not even sure the Russians can explain the Russians," Lorna said. "It's a huge country - more square miles than Pluto, so there's no lumping them all together. Though I've got to admit my experience is a bit limited. My cellmate was Russian - she's the one that taught me the language - and she was just a bit mental. She'd found out her husband was cheating on her, so she killed him _and_ the other woman." She'd offered to give Lorna a prison tattoo - apparently, killing someone merited a skull on the knuckles, and the more you'd killed, the more skulls you had. Lorna, as politely as she could, had declined. "She looked after me, when I first got in there. She was mental, but she was a good ally, and you need allies in there."

Laughing, she added, "During the Cold War, they celebrated the October Revolution every year, and once the Soviet Union disbanded, the government had to make up a new holiday so everyone could keep getting drunk on that day. Also, the word 'soviet' means 'union', so us calling it the Soviet Union just meant 'Union Union'."

They entered the building and Earlene smiled to herself to see that her guests were suitably impressed by the Koch Theater...while at the same time she found she could not get 'Union Union' out of her head; Lorna was a fountain of trivia. The rows of red velvet seats added an overtone of luxury to the ivory toned balustrades, and the golden ceiling and stage curtain; it was an attractive venue. Thanadir especially seemed enchanted, which she'd hoped for the most. Whatever the seneschal actually thought, he carried a sense of childlike wonder that she hoped never vanished. It probably gave her more happiness to watch him, than it gave him to see this.

"Jesus Christ," Lorna muttered. You could fit what, two, three thousand people in here? She'd bet it took ages to seat them all. A stage like that, you could perform anything up to and including a very cramped game of cricket. And Firebird...it was, so far as she knew, an offshoot of Koschei the Deathless. "Nekotorom carstve, v nekotorom gosudarstve zhil-byl car'; u jetogo carja bylo tri syna, vse oni byli na vozraste," she muttered. _In a Kingdom in a state there lived a King; this King had three sons, and all of them were of age…_ There was no way she'd remember the entire thing, not anymore, but Tatiana had been fond of it. (Then again, Tatiana had been fond of stabbing people with plastic sporks.)

Earlene had seen both pieces before, and she hoped the costumes were good. It wasn't like the music ever changed. Of both of them she liked the Firebird best; while not being a dancer, it seemed like an inordinate of time was spent en pointe in this piece. It had to be hard to dance, especially the role of the Firebird herself.

 _Will we survive with our sensibilities intact, meluieg?_ she heard in a gentle tease.

 _It won't be worse than "Sugar Daddy" from Hedwig_ , if that's what you are asking, she smirked silently, taking his hand. _But Russian folk tales are a little strange. Come to think of it, an inordinate amount of longer ballets are from Russian composers. I'm sure there is a reason, I just don't know what it is. But I thought you might like it; there are things you see in a live performance that are much harder to notice on a video, if it is possible at all. You'll see how hard they are actually exerting themselves. And in your lucky case, I'd guess that you can even hear the thoughts of the performers. I'd be very curious to hear about that later, if you feel any of it can be shared. I'll never know what it is to dance like this._ Earlene had a sudden and disturbing vision of a woman pregnant in her third trimester in pointe shoes and...it really wasn't working.

 _'The Rite of Spring' can be sexualized, depending on the choreographer. There were times and places in human history when our beliefs and practices were little above those of animals. People thought that gods were everywhere, that natural forces were gods, and that they had to be appeased. Much of it was violent, brutal, appalling. I think this is what the composer had in mind, what he wanted to force people to consider. And I guess we'll find out…_

The curtain was rising, on a very dark and morbid scene. And turning her head, Earlene saw Thanadir's lips part at the visceral experience of having this illusion presented right in front of him. When the Firebird took the stage, an audible gasp went through the audience and a brief roar of enthusiastic applause followed. The costume was incredible, even to this jaded group of New Yorkers. Realistic long golden feathers sprouted from her arms out of red plumage, with oranges, reds and golds on her body suit. A leotard of screened reds and golds down to her calves added the the effect, while not hiding her musculature (presumably it was a leotard, and not body paint? There was no means by which to tell). A stunning headdress that gave her a crest of red and golden feathers completed the ensemble. She'd seen a lot of costumes, and this had made coming today worthwhile in and of itself. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she was taken aback for a second reason. _My King, look at your seneschal. I hope you realize that he is worth all the treasure in your vault, and some more besides._

Thranduil looked to see a single tear rolling down the corner of Thanadir's cheek, while his lips were parted. He was completely entranced and...even the King had to admit, the sight of his innocent enjoyment was hard to set aside. He squeezed Earlene's hand in acknowledgement, before forcing himself to watch the performance, and she had to do the same.

Lorna had never actually seen ballet before - even on TV, really. It wasn't something anyone she'd ever lived with was into, so she just didn't have the exposure. The costumes were gorgeous, but more than that was the way they all _moved_...they must be phenomenally strong, to be that graceful without breaking something in their feet or ankles. How much practice would it take, to be able to do something like that? She probably couldn't spin like that more than twice without getting dizzy and falling over, let alone sweep - and she had to call it _sweeping_ , for lack of a better word - so smoothly.

The tights on that bloke, though...oh dear. It looked like they'd been spray-painted on, and given that this was actual Art, she felt rather guilty for appreciating his arse. She was pretty sure you weren't supposed to ogle Art, but seriously, how did those tights even _work_? You probably weren't allowed to take pictures in here, or she'd totally do it, and send one to Siobhan.

Thranduil genuinely wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, because both mortal women were absolutely enraptured with the male dancer's rear extremity. Though even he had to admit, it was a fine specimen of anatomy but...he was not used to this. Usually Earlene's thoughts were not in alignment with Lorna's and it amused him to no end that they had found common ground...here. It was no detraction from his wife's appreciation of his own physical charms. These were very athletic mortals, and not reflective of the general population, that much was certain.

The ellyn and Lorna were grateful for the program notes. The plot was simple enough, and it was easy to follow what the dancers were describing, having read about it. Though how an egg was supposed to allow a... _deathless one_? to keep from perishing was beyond Thranduil. The wraiths of his old world were certainly more difficult to kill than that. Eänur and Glorfindel together could not utterly vanquish the Witch-King; should it only have been so easy.

Each time one of those lady dancers went up onto her toes, Lorna couldn't help but wince a little. Yes, it was graceful and beautiful, but what was it doing to their _feet_? Their feet, their legs...some joints, she was sure, just weren't meant to bend like that, no matter how lovely the result.

A thunderous applause after the Firebird was hoisted up in victory at the end of the dance gave way to an intermission, but Earlene had no interest in leaving her seat. Her head was actually deep in her phone on Yelp!, trying to think of what would work best for dinner. She saw something that made her laugh and handed the phone to Lorna so she could read about Holey Cream, the place where they sold ice cream scooped on top of donuts. With what she hoped was discretion, she pointed at Thanadir. Though for actual food, Italian sounded better.

Lorna's eyes widened, and she gave as discreet a thumb's-up as she could. That sounded damn tasty, and the thought of watching Thanadir - he'd be like a kid in a candy store, only better. And hell, she'd want a little bit of everything, because turning forty had done nothing to kill her sweet tooth.

That part was concluded. Now to figure out the perfect Italian place. Thranduil had actually decided to use the restroom and...she frowned, hoping that he would know what to do. He knew how to use the facilities in her home but aside from the pubs, where had he ever...oh, he was a damn Elvenking, if anyone could figure it out, he could. "Lorna, look. There is this place called Becco, they have an unlimited pasta option," she said quietly. "The downside is, it can get crowded and noisy to the point of obnoxiousness. There's another place, closer, and higher rated, a little pricier….? They have the fancy stuff, and pizzas too."

"So long as we can afford to feed Thanadir," Lorna said. "He has a hollow leg, I swear. Or he's like a cow, and has a second stomach. Somehow. I'm not entirely convinced it's not a TARDIS." One of these days, when the elves were done with _Star Trek_ , they really needed to see _Doctor Who_.

It was hard work, very hard work, not to burst out laughing at the TARDIS comment, because it was true. How did Thanadir ever manage to fade in the first place? How could he possibly stop eating in order to do it? Maybe she didn't want to know, and it was probably very impolite to ask. Thranduil returned without showing any evidence of mishap, so Earlene leaned over him to show Lorna her second choice. The food was highly rated and a little easier on the wallet, too. That way she could order him a few pasta dishes and maybe the rest of them would get a forkful before it vanished. Poor Thanadir…

"That looks good," Lorna said. And pasta was filling; even Thanadir could only handle so much (she hoped, anyway). She snuck a few pictures of the venue, flash off, since it didn't look like anyone was going to stop her; while she might not be able to send Siobhan a picture of that dancer's arse, she could at least show off the interior.

"The Rite of Spring" looked promising as well. Earlene was relieved to see that there were no weird frou frou costumes that basically covered the dancers' bodies. Ballet without being able to see most of the human form was 'why bother' in her worldview. This dance could be edgy to the point of creepiness sometimes, and it looked as though that might be the intended effect here. The movements were raw, passionate, primitive. It was _very_ convincing.

Lorna's eyebrows shot to her hairline. This was Art, and she had not expected Art to be this...sexual. She was so surprised that it actually at first distracted her from the rather obvious male anatomy on display. She didn't even know that she could call this sexual; it needed a more high-brow word like erotic, which was not a word she had ever used to describe anything in her life. When you had that much arse on display that gracefully, to say nothing of, _er_ , other features, 'erotic' was the only way to go.

She hazarded a glance at Thanadir, wondering if he was going to be intrigued or utterly scandalized.

Some of the dance steps (could you call them that?) looked very, very hard. The lead ballerina walked around the stage, completely crouched down and….how? Just, how? Earlene was yoga-fit, but this was at a whole other level. And the men...there were several leaps that looked as if they were imitating the moves of the gorillas they'd seen at the zoo, in imitation of being on four legs….wow. Part of her wished she could give all of them a tip, because she knew they didn't earn even vaguely enough money for what they did. They must love their art, down to the last one. Knowing that all the women there were going broke just trying to afford pointe shoes...it really wasn't fair.

That was it - Lorna, when they returned to the hotel, was going to try a few of those. She was reasonably flexible for a woman her age; once upon a time, she'd been able to touch the back of her head with her foot (something she and Liam had had fun with - he had quite enjoyed her flexibility). Yes, that was over a decade ago, but still. The more complex moves here were utterly beyond her, but surely she could manage a simpler one.

The virgin collapsed onto the stage in a final flourish, everyone applauded, and then they made their way out. The performances had been as good as Earlene hoped they might be. If she had to give this up from here on out, this swan song had made that bearable. Maybe someday they'd get their act together and and the ballet would offer simulcast subscriptions; it seemed like with technology, that kind of thing couldn't be too far into the future.

Happily, she ushered everyone into the aisle to join the queue of departing patrons. They'd had good seats, quite close to the front of the orchestra, and so they were among the last to leave. It surprised her when she felt herself held back by Thanadir; what had she done this time?

"Earlene, thank you," he said, reaching down to kiss her on the cheek. "This was so...I am very grateful." Her face lit up in a smile, to know she had succeeded. Especially when, by the time it was all said and done, there would be so few things she could really do for him of a meaningful nature.

"You're welcome," she beamed, taking his arm. "Now let's feed you."

Thanadir liked New York, very much.

Lorna stretched, joints cracking, quite ready for food herself. She had actually managed to sneak a tiny bit of footage of that Rite of Spring dance, because she knew that more than Siobhan would appreciate _that_ bit. While those blokes all had fantastic arses, she still preferred Ratiri's.

Her stomach growled embarrassingly loudly. Oh well. If these fancy people wanted to look at her weird, let them. At least she hadn't burped.

"Back to the hotel first, or straight to food? It's ten streets down and around the corner from the hotel, right around where the theaters are."

"I vote food," Lorna said, figuring Thanadir would be right there with her. Moving, sadly, alerted her to another issue. _Thranduil, cramps. Please. Ow._

The King offered his arm to her, wondering if she had ever asked Earlene about...this issue. But he had no cordial here and so there was nothing but time that could help her. _Every month_...he frowned. It seemed like a recipe for bleeding to death. Ellith had a considerable advantage.

Lorna took his arm, and just about sighed with relief. _I wish there was some way to bottle and sell that_ , she said. _Whatever it is you do. However you do it. Millions of women around the world would throw money hand over fist. There's no logical reason for periods to be this awful, and some women have them so bad it makes one week out of every month a living hell. I'm guessing elf ladies don't have this problem._ She somehow couldn't imagine an elf lady ever needing to curl up with a heating pad on her abdomen.

 _They do not have these troubles; our medicine cares for that. And I am sorry; it is indeed unfortunate. I am glad, that I can help you_ , he said, and he meant it.

It was just one long stroll, down 6th Avenue into the heart of the theater district. They'd be coming back here tomorrow, for the next treat...and arguably the last big hurrah in terms of entertainment. They only had two more full days remaining; their time here was flying by. Fun had a way of doing that. The theater names they were passing were self explanatory, so they strolled along, admiring the occasional incongruous sight such as a horse and buggy in the middle of the avenue at a stoplight, and similar sorts of random amusements. Finally they reached their destination, Trattoria Trecolori, with all the pasta anyone could want. Usually she would've avoided any place to eat in the Theater District just on principle, but the Yelp! Reviews for this place had been so solid that it seemed like a completely safe choice.

Lorna knew very little about Italian food, but probably figured she'd be safe with a minestrone (provided Thanadir didn't eat it all). The restaurant, predictably, was crowded, and she did her best to stay on Thranduil's heel, lest she get stepped on. It smelled good, at least - very, very good, and it only made her stomach rumble again. The Italians, she reflected, really were a lot like the Irish - fiercely clannish, yet they'd argue from sunup to sundown, over next to nothing. It was how they showed they cared.

After conferring a little, it was agreed they would order as a group and find a way to share it all. Two kinds of salad, caprese, minestrone, antipasti, and then a parade of pastas. There were lots of different sauces and flavors on parade, so there was no point skimping. Rigatoni, gnocchi, tortellini, fettucine, linguine, and a chicken scarpariello just to break up the starch. A little. Earlene guessed that this just might tip even Thanadir into an inability to eat dessert, but, they'd see. And there was still time to get him to the sugar. Thranduil felt very grateful that his wife knew so much about food, because he was utterly lost. The names were strange, he'd only ever eaten pasta once or twice at her cottage and the only thing he felt certain of is that everything smelled very nice. After she rattled off all the food, she added two carafes of house red wine, and figured if they didn't go home happy, it wouldn't be her fault. Service was very prompt; inside of ten minutes bread, wine, salads and soup were already on the table.

Lorna actually managed to nibble bread, rather than inhale it, and sipped at her wine. Though it was probably excellent by human standards, it just couldn't compare to elf wine. (Then again, what could?) "So, I have to wonder just what happens to those dancers' feet after a while," she said. "I mean, it's not a natural way to stand. The wash-out rate has to be huge." You could only do that for so long before your joints just went 'nope'.

"It's completely disgusting, I can't fathom how anyone does it. You spend your whole life working to be a dancer, then if you make it you get paid dirt, get a ruined body, and you better hope you marry a podiatrist. Oh and they make you buy your own shoes. I read that if they can't afford new shoes when they need them, they're out of a job. What a deal," Earlene said, shaking her head. "I feel guilty for enjoying it so much, it's like I'm….I'm...I'm helping them be repressed." The similarities were suddenly too weird…

"Now I feel really guilty admiring that guy's arse," Lorna muttered. She wondered just what crazy diets they had to go through, and probably didn't want to know. "I don't get why anyone would want to. I mean, they must _really_ love what they do." Had she ever loved anything enough, to do that to herself over it? Not anything that wasn't a person. "I don't know that you can say you're helping them be repressed, though. They wouldn't have any work at all, if people didn't go see them perform, and then they'd have shite joints and be unemployed. Though why in God's bloody name they'd make you buy your own shoes, I can't imagine." Somebody involved was too lazy to do the figures and work out what it would cost to get shoes for the lot of them, she was sure.

They had just finished mowing down the first round when the real food showed up; they had to assure the server that they would be more than happy eating off of small plates in order for it all to fit on the table. Thranduil watched in complete amusement as Earlene did not wait or speak but began dexterously scooping a portion of each order onto the seneschal's plate, making a neat hexagonal shape out of it somehow before placing it in front of him. She did the same for Thranduil and Lorna after they both indicated with general alarm that they wanted their portions to be...smaller. Biting hard on her cheeks not to laugh, she complied and soon they were all eating.

This was pasta in a way even Lorna's brother-in-law couldn't have managed it, and that was really saying something. She occupied herself eating, somehow not devouring everything on her plate inside of five minutes. As ever, watching Thanadir was both a joy and an education in just how much one slender male could put away. Thranduil didn't eat like that; was Thanadir's stomach actually a TARDIS? She couldn't think of any other explanation. She could eat a hefty amount of food for a woman her size, but she had nothing on Thanadir.

 _How did the rest of you not starve, when he eats like that? Or is he normal for elves?_ Ratiri would certainly be interested in the answer.

Thranduil sighed, but not in a way easy to notice as he surreptitiously glanced at Thanadir's current state of culinary bliss.

 _It was not ever quite like this, before. He has always been known to enjoy his food when it was available. But I have seen him in times of war, and want. He is the first one willing to go without, so that others can have more, when there is a lack. A more selfless individual, you could not hope to find. But now...he has been brought within reach of a superb cook who enjoys spoiling him, and there is no lack. For perhaps the first time, he is enjoying food in a manner not previously possible. I enjoy food as well, but not that much. Do you know, I cannot actually answer your question? His is as physically fit and healthy as ever; he does not gain in weight. I cannot explain; neither do I know of another in my Halls with such appetite._ He shrugged, and with his usual decorum kept eating.

Lorna laughed silently. Thanadir violated the laws of physics - that was the only explanation. Whatever the reason, watching him was oddly enjoyable; very oddly, because normally watching people eat wasn't precisely something she enjoyed much. _If he'd been human, he'd be getting sick._ She knew that from experience. Prior to moving in with Mairead, her diet had been odd, often poor, and equally often spotty. Large amounts of food just hadn't figured into it, so when she was finally presented with a table full of things she hadn't necessarily even heard of, she'd tried all of it, and inevitably eaten herself sick. For elves, there didn't seem to be too much of a good thing, if Thanadir was any indication.

Earlene had refilled Thanadir's plate for the third time and was almost done with her own meal when she heard a voice very close to her left ear. "Gesu bambino!" Lifting her head, startled, she looked up into the face of a formidable and wrinkled old Nonna who wore an apron and had her hands on her hips, smiling broadly at Thanadir. "Mangia come tutti i dodici apostoli!" she said. Startled, the elf looked up from his eating, not entirely certain what was happening. Thranduil's eyes widened and all his self control was needed to keep his features neutral. "You like?" she said to Thanadir carefully in her broken English.

Earlene felt she had better help. "She is asking you if you like her food, Thanadir. I suspect she is the family cook for this restaurant."

"I like it very much," the seneschal said politely, nodding.

"Ai!" she said, smiling from ear to ear. "Nonna vi aiuterà, si sta morendo di fame," was sputtered at remarkable speed, and she turned on her heel and swiftly left.

Earlene did not have any idea how she would get through this. Her Italian was complete crap, but unless she was much mistaken, this lady was about to bring Thanadir even more food. "Excuse me, I need the ladies' room," she choked, leaving the table quickly. And when she got there, she leaned against the wall and giggled. And giggled, gasping for air. This had to be fast; she couldn't abandon them. _Sure god, how in the world did they manage this stuff?_ Patting her face with a wet paper towel, she tried to put on her best courtroom look before departing.

She returned to her chair less than thirty seconds before Nonna returned, setting down a plate of lasagna and trefunghi, a mushroom dish, in front of him. "Nessuno che sembra il nostro Salvatore sos offre la fame nel mio ristorante," she said, patting him tenderly on the cheek as he looked at her in utter incomprehension. "Gesu bambino! Mangia! Mangia!" she said.

"She wants you to eat," Earlene whispered as discreetly as possible. "Grazie, signora, grazie," she said politely, wondering if this woman knew any English? They were out there, the holdouts, and this might be just the place one would be found. With a profound sigh, the woman returned happily to the kitchen, but not before she noticed two who were obviously her grown sons watching her and shaking their heads.

"Cosa stai grardando? Tornare al lavoro," she hollered, while the other patrons looked on and smiled indulgently. Nonnas could say whatever shit they wanted to, and they knew it.

Lorna had to pinch her thigh really, _really_ hard to keep a straight face, and even then she wound up having to stuff a piece of bread stick in her mouth. She didn't dare look at Thranduil, or she'd utterly break - looking at poor bewildered Thanadir was bad enough. While the language might be different, tiny old grandmothers seemed to be the same among the Italians as they were the Irish. At least Thanadir could probably eat whatever the hell she put in front of him, though Lorna wouldn't put it past an Italian Gran to be able to actually leave him full.

Earlene decided that she really didn't care if they were charged for the extra dishes or not. She had enough room to take a forkful of the mushrooms for herself, and they really were excellent...and she would make up much of it in the tip, if they weren't. The memory of this was going to be fairly priceless. She rolled over what was said. _Did that woman tell him he ate like all twelve of the apostles? Do not think about it_ , she ordered herself, and returned to sipping her wine.

When their check was brought, their waiter looked at them sheepishly. "I am sorry about my grandmother," he said. "She is very set in her ways."

Lorna and Earlene grinned at the same time. "Our families are Irish," Earlene said. "It is exactly the same, but the swearing is different." The man's face transformed as he nodded and smiled.

Lorna, still pinching her leg, downed half her glass of wine at one go. If she didn't get out of here in short order, she was going to explode from the effort of keeping her laughter at bay. All the pinching in the world wasn't going to be enough.

Earlene settled up and soon they were waddling out. And dammit if Thanadir hadn't cleaned both of those plates, with each of them having taken only tiny slivers just so they could try it. Thranduil suspected, however, that his seneschal had at last arrived at a place of having eaten too much. It was subtle, and perhaps only he would notice, but there were traces of bodily discomfort in his movements. And, for perhaps the first time he could ever recall, visible distension around his middle.

Thranduil saw that his wife at least suspected the same problem, because she seemed to dawdle noticeably as they made their way back to the hotel up 7th Avenue. Earlene did point out the sign for the Radio City Music Hall, because many people had at least heard of the Rockettes. She personally didn't see the fuss, but, they _were_ famous. Holding onto Thanadir, she darted furtive glances at him from time to time, hoping he wasn't suffering extreme gastric distress, and wondered if elves had anything like Rolaids.

Lorna, full and at one with the world, did manage to hold her laughter in until they were out of the restaurant, and then she dissolved into helpless giggling. "She and my gran could've taken over the world," she managed. "Christ, I could do with a charcoal biscuit before bed, though, or I'll be miserable." Thranduil, from what she'd seen, had actually eaten like a sane person, and probably wouldn't be curled in a ball dying of indigestion at two in the morning.

"I will be encouraging you to drink plenty of water," he smiled down at her. "Though, the food was indeed delicious. I suppose if we were going to tip into excessive eating, that was the place to do it."

"I love pasta," sighed Earlene. "I should make it more often. It isn't that hard." A faint groan from Thanadir caused her to glance over, and pat his arm with her spare hand. She genuinely felt sorry for him; being blindsided by a Nonna determined to feed you was no joke.

All four of them were extremely thankful for the invention of the elevator. When they returned to their room, there was mass flopping on the beds and for a time, no one moved or spoke. Earlene was the first to roll to the remote control, to bring up the evening news. The weatherman blathered on about some astronomical happenings for the month of June. Though she had missed the closest day of opposition, Saturn was supposed to be visible in the night sky. "You know, I'd dearly love to go for a jog in the park tonight. Just a short one. I miss doing that. But as I know I can't go alone, I worry about whether this is the worst night ever to ask for company after that dinner." She glanced worriedly at Thanadir's midsection; he was not the one who was pregnant and yet…. _poor Thanadir._

"I will go with you, Earlene," he managed to say. "Though it would be an act of mercy on your part, if you could first allow me an hour or two."

"You are certain?" she said. "This can wait…"

Thanadir held up his hand in a gesture that meant, no further discussion would be tolerated. "We will go," he said with conviction.

 _Well, it is a warm and beautiful night_ , she reasoned. Rising and digging through her luggage, she found a loose tee and her running pants. She hadn't worn these since the first morning she'd gotten herself lost in the woods, and it somehow felt very homelike to be using them again in Central Park. _Just like old times._

"You have fun with that," Lorna said, kicking off her sandals. They'd done far less walking today, so her feet weren't very sore. "I'm going to lay here and be a slug for now." She flopped back onto the bed, lacing her hands behind her head and staring up at the ceiling. It was lovely and cool in here, away from the heat and humidity of the outdoors - heat and humidity that nobody else seemed to even register that much. The joy of growing up on a tiny, misty island, but the wet bandana really did help quite a bit. "Earlene, how the hell d'you think that guy in red's tights worked? It looked like they'd crawled right up his crack."

"You know, even I wondered about that. I mean, there is always little to the imagination but his, ah, attributes were rather exceptional. Let me Google it; there must be something they wear that's not ordinary. Sure god I hope those things never get snags or runs. That would be a performance alright, and not in the way anyone wants." She paused. "Doctor Dancebelt's Guide. Well, this sounds promising….oh, my."

"Doctor Dancebelt's Guide?" Lorna asked. "All right, now you've got to explain." Every time she heard the words _oh, my_ she automatically repeated them in her head in George Takei's voice. Every. Goddamn. Time.

"So apparently there is a thing called a Unibutt," Earlene said, her eyes wide as she read. " 'Backstage, the last thing most male dancers do before going on is to pull their tights' rear seam up into their crack.' Sure god, and here I thought only the women suffered," she said, half-aghast. " 'An idealized male round-mound bulge is part of the ballet costume…' oh, my…'some companies ask male dancers to wear two pairs of white tights for a super-white (and no see-thru) look…..'... _those poor men_."

Thranduil had been certain nothing could outdo the Nonna, until this conversation happened.

"Excuse me, I would like to take a bath," Thanadir mumbled, as he moved past them. Earlene and Lorna barely appeared to hear, and Thranduil wondered deeply about the state of his life.

Lorna laughed so hard she actually fell off the bed, wincing when she hit the floor and not caring in the least. "Earlene, email me that link," she said. "I need to put it in the email I send Ratiri, along with what little I filmed'v that scene. _Round-mound bulge…_ " She dissolved into utterly helpless laughter again, hauling herself up and flopping back on the bed. "Thranduil, you've had a bit'v an education this trip, haven't you? I mean, I have, and I grew up in the modern world. How are you and Thanadir not overwhelmed?" Still snickering, she at least managed to pull the pins out of her hair and take her braid down, unwinding it with no real urgency.

Only then did it occur to Earlene that they had been speaking about this with males present. She rolled back over with a somewhat apologetic glance in his direction. "Sorry. It's just that when you don't have the plumbing, you can't help but wonder." _That and, I did keep hearing about your lack of body issues_ , she added, reaching to work off his boots. For whatever reason, she felt like rubbing his toes. While continuing to watch the news with her head hanging upside down off the end of the bed again, because she liked it.

"I do not find it overwhelming so much as different. Do you find my Halls overwhelming? Maybe it is not the best comparison, but, they are very different. I enjoy the newness, it is interesting. Though I will allow that humans can be filled with surprises," he smirked. "I will not forget the Nonna anytime soon."

"Heck, life is an education no matter what," piped Earlene while she delicately rubbed an elven toe. "Even if it is male dance equipment."

"Equipment and _equipment_ ," Lorna snickered, flailing for the hairbrush she kept in her bag (she had another in the bathroom. With hair as long as hers, you always needed a backup brush.) "I don't know that anyone can forget Nonnas. Or Grans. A certain type'v person seems to be universal, and that includes little old grandmothers." She drew the brush through her hair, still marveling at how soft the elf hair products left it. Seriously, it was unfortunate that it apparently took elf magic to properly make them work, or she'd try to brew some for Mairead.

Thranduil sighed, not even caring about the droning content of the evening news. He was trying to recall if Earlene had ever rubbed his toes before and... _it really is rather nice_ , he thought. "I take it, Lorna, you have zero interest in running with Earlene?" he asked, just to confirm. He was trying to decide if he had any himself, or whether he felt confident sending his wife and seneschal alone. His wife had done this same activity, alone, for over a decade, he knew. Assuredly he was being ridiculous to worry further.

"None whatsoever," Lorna said, pulling more of her hair over her shoulder. She had so much of it that she had to split it in half, some over each shoulder, to get it properly brushed. Otherwise she couldn't get all the knots out. "Especially not with all this food sitting like a lump on my stomach. Earlene, I don't know how you can enjoy that. It's beyond me." She'd always had physical jobs, and stayed in shape simply because she worked hard; the appeal of jogging or running was entirely lost on her. She might, however, try a few of those weird dance moves in the bathroom, where she could take a hot bath if she somehow pulled something.

Lorna's thoughts caused Thranduil to consider that staying behind might be doubly advisable, in the event something anatomical ended up faring badly. But in the meantime, he still had his foot rub.

"Trump Trump Trump," Earlene hissed in disgust. "I don't know what's going to be worse; now, or when this election is over. We had a great music duo here in the city, Simon and Garfunkel. A line in one of their songs went, 'Laugh about it, shout about it when you've got to choose, any way you look at this you lose.' And that, my friends, sums up the current state of national politics." Just then, Thanadir emerged from the bathroom, his long hair damp. He looked as if he felt better. Though how anyone could want to bathe and _then_ run, made no sense to her.

"At least you live in Ireland now," Lorna said, stretching and cracking both her ankles. "And you're married to an Irish citizen. Given how much money you've got, if you wanted to apply for citizenship yourself, I don't think it'd be that hard. I don't know what all's involved in it, but I do know their main concern's that you're able to support yourself, and you've already been living there what, four months? You haven't got any kind'v criminal record standing in your way, you're well-educated...you're the kind'v immigrant the government actually wants. Christ, with practice I think you could even pick up the accent." She still didn't know _how_ much money Earlene actually had on her own, but given the law firm she'd worked at, and how she was able to pay Lorna the ridiculous salary she did even _before_ the gems were sold, it was probably a lot.

Speaking of all that money, Lorna needed to get more souvenirs while she was here. The M&M statues were hilarious, but she needed more than that, especially to give Ratiri.

Earlene thought it wise to not comment on her views of citizenship here or in Ireland; the depth of her feelings concerning her fealty to Thranduil were not something she imagined Lorna could stomach, now or ever. It would be more profitable to stretch a little before her run, so she spent her time moving through increasingly difficult yoga contortions while Thranduil watched in amusement. Thanadir watched too, not having seen this yet, but his face held no emotion. And in order to have a prayer of focusing on what she was doing, she ignored both of them. Half an hour later, she straightened up.

"We can go now, if that is still your wish," the seneschal said. Earlene laced up her shoes and went to her purse. Thanadir or no Thanadir, she never jogged without her bobby whistle and her pepper spray. Never.

They walked over to 8th Avenue; she had a mind to keep this run on the shorter side; just to the lake and back, passing the seasonal amusement park that operated there. The city was in twilight, and the lit skyscrapers provided a stunning backdrop as they moved out of the streets and crossed into the park itself. She explained Trump Tower to Thanadir; that the man who owned the building was seeking to become the leader of the entire nation. "It is very...big," he said, apparently finding nothing else meritorious about it. _Everything about him is big_ , she thought, _including his capacity for creating controversy_. And yet those sentiments were better left unspoken to her utterly disinterested audience. _How petty modern human politics must seem, to such an ancient being._ As she prepared to break into a running pace, she instinctively looped the keyrings that held her whistle and spray into each hand, having always taken self-defense very seriously. The spray stayed in the right hand, the whistle in the left. Sure, it wasn't a guarantee (nothing was), but she liked to think that if she went down, she was taking someone with her.

The park at night was lovely, and this was exhilarating to her senses. Thanadir ran easily and silently at her side; her footfalls made little noise and his made none at all. Though strangely enough, this made her miss running in their woods at home. It was good to her, that she missed Lasgalen; that told her that her decision to leave in the first place had not been a poor one. They ran on to Bethesda Terrace, a scenic spot near the lake, and she came to a halt, taking his arm. They stood there for some minutes, enjoying the stunning view of the city lights that bordered the park. And that was when she thought she heard something, and released the seneschal's arm to look around her. Moving out of the trees was a man whose demeanor caused her to go on red alert; in the dark he appeared ungroomed, moved erratically, and was already saying "hey, spare any change?" as he moved toward them.

"We're leaving, now," she said to the elf. A lot seemed to happen, very quickly. The man who spoke kept advancing, and Earlene barked "Back off!" in a tone of voice that would have slowed most people down. _Was he on drugs?_ His next step brought him almost to her, and her pepper spray was suddenly being offloaded full into his face. The amazing thing was, that didn't stop him, and for the first time she felt a stab of fear. Before she could bring her whistle to her mouth, he grabbed onto her arm, which caused her to violently kick into his groin. From either her kick, the power of the Necklace, or both he went down like a rock, but now she herself was half choking on the fumes from the spray; he'd come too close to her face. Vaguely surprised that Thanadir had not intervened, she turned to realize something else was going on behind her.

Her assailant had not been alone. Her mouth hung open to see that the elf had a second man held up off the ground by his throat, and that something _Jesus was that a gun_? was being forced from his grip as the snapping noise of a bone greeted her ears. The weapon clattered to the ground while he wriggled impotently in the seneschal's iron grip, unable to breathe. Earlene carefully kicked the weapon a short distance away. Red hot anger washed over her, and she turned back and leveled a second kick at her own would-be attacker's crotch, eliciting a scream of agony. She might not have gotten in enough kicks to Sean, but goddammit she wasn't missing out this time. But her lashing out had just caused this encounter to become noisy, and while they'd done nothing wrong...if this attracted the attention of a police officer, they could both count on being front section news before they left New York. _No. Just...no. Her name was not going to be in the paper. Not like this._

With a sickening thud, the seneschal slammed the man against the ground with great force, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Perhaps this will teach you to attack women" she said, as she kicked him in the nuts too, as hard as she could. Taking Thanadir's hand, she silently urged him away as fast as they could, not slowing or stopping until they were within a few dozen yards of 59th Street. The run gave her the time and space for some of her emotions to bleed away. For years on years, she had done this very thing without incident. And yet tonight, had she been alone, would have been her Waterloo. That those men were planning on far more than panhadling; of that she was sure. Slowing to a walk for a minute, she finally came to a stop, and reached for the elf. "Thank you. I would not have been okay tonight, had you not been with me. I don't even really want to think about what you saved me from. Just, thank you…" she said as she embraced him with great feeling, not knowing what else to say or how to say it. The fear she did not allow herself to feel before, she was feeling now.

He gently pushed her back and lifted her head with his fingers, so that she had to look up at him. "You are welcome, Earlene. But I want you to know that I am proud of you. You were alert and prepared. You fought back. And truthfully, you saved at least one of their lives, because had you not acted as you did, I would have killed one of them to ensure I stopped the other. As it is they are both only...damaged."

While she did not wish to, she was involuntarily shaking. He pulled her back against him, and whispered reassurances to her. That she had acted in a way of which he approved; it meant a great deal to her, and left her feeling like she could yet hold her head up. "We will run again, before we depart," he said. "I would not have this be your final memory of something from your home that you enjoyed so much."

Earlene nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, and it was a good idea. The odds of that happening twice were astronomical. Taking his arm, she shook off her bad feelings and focused on what had gone right, not what had gone wrong. And now she had to tell Thranduil; no way would she dump _that_ in Thanadir's lap, tempting though it was.

Lorna ran through her own stretches, just for the hell of it; they were the ones she'd learned from Shane, who'd learned them in the army. If she was going to try to attempt any of that crazy ballet contortion, she needed to be as well-stretched as possible. A lovely hot bath helped relax her, so when she was through and had donned her ancient T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants, she wrung her hair out as best she could, braced herself against the sink (studiously ignoring the still-covered portrait, because seriously, eek), and tried quite valiantly to touch the back of her head with the ball of her foot.

Her spine still flexed quite well, if she did say so herself, but her quads were less pleased even in spite of her stretching. Still...she tried to reach over her shoulder to grab her foot, which proved to be a mistake. Her balance quite abruptly gave up, sending her crashing knee-first onto the tile floor in a tangle of wet hair and cursing.

"I'm good," she called automatically - and then spotted her knee. Oops. The damn thing didn't actually hurt much until she looked at it, and then she all but facepalmed. Still, she'd had to do this once before, years ago; shoving a kneecap back into place wasn't _fun_ , but it also wasn't that difficult if you knew what you were doing, and Shane had made sure they all did. The _sound_ it made was rather unpleasant, and she swore like a drunken sailor before wrapping a hand-towel around it. Asking Thranduil to fix this was humiliating, but not enough so that she wasn't willing to do it.

She barely had the door open, when it pulled away from her, nearly causing a second upset in her balance. This time, however, she was not allowed to hit the floor.

"And to think I felt not going jogging with Earlene was the more sensible decision," he teased as he supported her weight. "And before you have a chance to give me one of your special salutes, yes, I will fix this."

He helped her carefully to the bed instead of lifting her; that would only serve to move her injured joint more. Frowning, he tried to ponder the best way to do this. That he had her permission, he was well aware. Tough as she was, he did not wish to cause her more pain. She had seemed about to say something, when at a touch from him, she slumped asleep against the pillows. He then felt less squeamish about pulling and moving the joint as he needed to, until all the structures moved back into place. Another moment to ensure that all the damage was undone, and she was brought back to wakefulness. "You were about to say?" he said, smiling, knowing that he could half-likely expect an earful now that she was restored to order.

"I was about to say I'm good," she said, "even though I wasn't. Thanks for…er, that. Apparently I'm still flexible, but my balance has gone to complete hell." Lorna poked at her knee, fascinated. She knew he could heal just about anything, but that didn't make it any less amazing when he actually did it. Last time this had happened, she'd been screwed for months, stuck with a sports bandage Shane had lifted from some shop. Now it was so fine she'd never know she'd done a thing to it. "Though Christ, warn me next time you're about to knock me out, will you? Not that I don't appreciate not being awake for that, but waking up without realizing you'd gone under is a bit freaky." She was already wondering if there was some way she could try doing that again - some way that wouldn't involve dislocating any joints. The sink was obviously a no-go.

"If it will not offend your sensibilities, I can offer to hold your waist just as the dancers did? At least you will not crash to the ground and reinvent your skeleton a second time?" His words were sarcastic but the tone of his voice really was not. Lorna suspected he was trying to make this bit of epic common sense digestible to her.

"As long as I won't crack my head on the ceiling," Lorna said, not bothering to point out that she was heavier than she looked. That didn't matter with elves, the lucky bastards. She wasn't actually sure about the upper limits of their strength, but she'd wager they could probably at least lift the front end of a decent-sized car.

"I think I can manage that," he said drily. "I will merely be making sure you stay upright unless you tell me to do something different." His hands came around her midsection, above her hips, barely touching her, but prepared to prevent a loss of balance. Truthfully, this seemed amusing. Though most of Earlene's yoga poses would be easy for him, perhaps this was something different?

Lorna was a bit more careful about attempting this a second time, wincing as her hip popped. She just. Couldn't. Do - oh, wait. This time she managed to reach back and catch her ankle, but it wasn't - no, a bit more - she cackled in triumph when she managed to touch her big toe to the back of her head, then immediately swore as she dropped the pose. She probably shouldn't have tried that, but she could still do it, dammit. "Forty can go fuck itself," she said, grinning. "If I can still do that, it can fuck right off."

The King released her when it was apparent she had two feet again to stand upon, and now he was intrigued. _That_ , he had never tried. He kicked off his boots, with a determined look on his face. "Is there a trick to it?" he asked, as he began to arc his leg up behind his back while reaching behind his shoulder, a look of concentration on his face. He was close, but not quite there. "How are you supposed to convince your leg to do this?" he asked.

"It's all in your muscles," she said, half unable to believe he was actually going to do it. "Your glutes and your quads. Plus having bones like a jellyfish, but neither'v us is young enough for _that_ anymore. Arch your spine as much as you can and you'll get closer." She hoped elves couldn't throw out their own joints, because could Thranduil actually heal himself? She wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

"Yes, I can, though I would never hear the end of needing to," he said, renewing his efforts as he bent his back even more and triumphantly felt his fingers brush his foot. With one extra effort he snagged it, and just as quickly let go, with a faintly pained look. "That is truly not easy," he said, now exponentially more impressed with Lorna. "You almost caused a serious blow to my self esteem," he joked, but it was with humor in his eyes. "I will try to act my age now," he said, straightening up before seating himself back on the bed.

Oh, Earlene would be so, so sorry she missed this."I'm sure you would've survived," she said dryly, grinning. "It was a lot easier when I was twenty years younger. I wouldn't've tried it again if I hadn't got someone who could heal anything I tore nearby."

Now that Earlene wasn't actually here, Lorna felt she could say this. "D'you have any idea how lucky you are that it was Earlene that found you?" she asked. "You've not seen much'v the human world yet, so I don't think you can. _Somehow_ you got a woman who's brilliant, educated, well-connected, and willing to sign over her autonomy entirely, forever. That just doesn't _happen_. Yeah, there are people out there who get into relationships with power imbalances, but they're short-term, and usually have stipulations attached, so the sub doesn't actually have to do something they really don't want to. Normally, the only sort who'd sign on for what Earlene did would be meek doormats who didn't want the bother'v having their own opinions, and yet you found her. Or she found you. The odds'v that, especially in a tiny little village like Lasg'len, are astronomically low. I can't say I've ever believed in divine intervention, but that makes me wonder. You might'v found the only woman like her on Earth who'd sign on like she did without being a weak little mouse."

An Irishwoman - _any_ Irishwoman - would have automatically bailed, but America's issues with monarchy were so far in the past they weren't issues anymore. An American wouldn't have immediately told him to get fucked, but the sheer odds of an American, let alone an American like Earlene, finding that cottage to begin with? Lorna wouldn't take that bet. Even yet she didn't understand why anyone would do it, but her life experience pretty much rendered that impossible. She was Irish, and she'd been in prison, and the latter especially gave her a rather skewed worldview. There was a world of difference between surrendering your freedom willingly and having it taken from you, and she'd had hers taken. Once _that_ had happened, thought of voluntarily surrendering it ever again was just inconceivable. Still, for someone, anyone, to surrender as Earlene had done, completely and forever...Lorna wasn't kidding. That just didn't happen, and certainly not with someone as intelligent and self-possessed as Earlene. Maybe those Valar actually had had a hand in it.

Thranduil was attempting to digest this piece of brutal honesty which had never occurred to him, and frowned, but before he had any time for rumination Earlene and Thanadir returned. The storm of his wife's thoughts snapped him onto other topics entirely. Trying to master his own rising anger, he quickly took her into his arms as her memories poured out at him. Thanadir stood quietly, his face showing no emotion. "I see," he said aloud. "You are unhurt?"

Earlene froze in confusion. "I think so," she said. "I don't think I stubbed my toe or anything." Thranduil gently pushed her sleeves up to reveal slight bruising around her arm.

"Almost," he said kindly. She had done exactly as he had wanted her to, and he must ensure that he did not leave her feeling that he was in any way displeased with her. Closing his hands over it, the marks were gone in seconds.

"I did not know," she said, "I-" His finger came up to her lips.

"I only care that all is well for you," he said. "You did very, very well, and like my seneschal, I am quite proud of you." He chuckled. "You may have even prevented a damaged part of the mortal gene pool from reproducing itself." With a kiss to her head, he hugged her to him once again.

Lorna was completely and utterly baffled, and wished like hell she had Thranduil's telepathy. Based on Thranduil's words she could, however, guess. "Something happen in the park?"

"Uh, yeah, it did," said Earlene. "Sorry, maybe I should have said all that out loud but I'm still getting over it a little." She heaved a sigh. "So we ran back to the Lake, it's pretty there, and stood a few minutes to enjoy the view. I need to preface, when I run, I've got a bobby whistle in one hand and spray in the other." Holding up her hands, she demonstrated, because the objects had not left her grasp, though now she tossed both down on the dresser. "Some panhandler was coming toward us, and I was making ready to run away from there when he came at me. The whole can of spray went into his eyes but he didn't stop. Thinking back, he was acting like a tweeker. And then he grabbed my arm, and hit the ground like a stone. I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could but then I heard noise behind me and see Thanadir holding up a second idiot by his throat, with the other hand on this guy's wrist. _That_ fucker had a gun, and dropped it right after what I'm guessing were his arm bones being snapped. I kicked the weapon away. And the guy met the ground with quite a thump. I don't know what shape he's in and honestly I don't give a rat's arse. Somewhere in there I kicked everyone in the nuts again for good measure, because I was pissed. Pepper spray guy made a racket and we ran away; there is no way I wanted the cops to find us. It would've meant names in the paper and right now I just don't need that." Another sigh was heaved. "So over fifteen years of running in the Park at night alone and had Thanadir not been with me, I would have had my ass handed to me on a plate. Actually, I suspect it might have been a lot worse than that." She looked at Lorna one last time and shook her head. All of those conversations about the indignities of being guarded flashed through her head as she spoke and, what was she supposed to say? It had just quite probably saved her from rape, murder, or both. Shit.

Lorna felt quite bad that she wished she'd been there. It was a terrible experience that she wouldn't wish on anyone, but...well, at least Earlene couldn't read her mind. She didn't want to say anything that might be mistaken as her diminishing any of it. "Tweekers are some'v the most dangerous," she said. "They can be like...like zombies, just fast. Their ability to feel pain and fear are both gone. Kicking them in the goolies is about all you can do." Unless you carried a knife, but then things could get messy with, you know, police. She wondered...Earlene didn't look like she'd got a rush off of it. She just looked pissed, and shaken, and maybe a bit more pissed. It stirred Lorna's own anger, because how dare some sticky-fingered fuck try to lay hands on her, like she was...like she was _property_? She wondered if they were still to be found, somewhere in the park. She might not need - no. No, and yet she was so tempted, because a kick to the junk wasn't enough punishment for what they'd tried to do to Earlene. Maybe she ought to take a walk herself. "I'm guessing a drink's in order?"

"Probably." She looked up at Thanadir. "I"m just curious, if I can ask. Was that man still alive when we left? Do you know?" She'd been careful to kick the gun, not touch the gun, for a reason.

Thanadir tilted his head. "He breathed yet. Which is more than he deserved," was the simple reply.

While this was not entirely what she wanted to hear, she nodded. Whether he lived or died, she could care less. That their encounter was untraceable to them, _that_ mattered. No possibility existed of fingerprints, or having been filmed. No possession had been left behind. The men were both in need of medical assistance; the odds of the NYPD coming across them were quite good. It was dark; their features would have been unrecognizable. As she reviewed this all in her mind, she felt as assured as possible that they had avoided what she would consider a serious annoyance and intrusion into her privacy. Especially with Allanah's future in the balance, their lives needed to seem...normal. Very normal.

Thranduil heard all of this pass in her mind with interest, understanding now the full scope of the issue. Earlene excused herself to take a shower, and the King waited until the water was running. "Lorna, I see bottles of wine. And glasses. Surely that is a good idea, about now?" Truth be told, he still felt insecure about the wine corkers; the one they had here was completely different than the one in Earlene's cottage. What did these mortals have against wax seals? Surely Lorna knew how to use the...object.

Lorna drew a deep breath. What she really, _really_ wanted was to go hunt both those fuckers down and make them regret the day they were ever born. "It is," she said. She had some vodka, too, since human wine did fuck-all for her; eight or so shots of that and she wouldn't feel like murdering anyone in the face.

She took a bottle of something red from the mini-fridge, eying it and the wine corker atop the fridge. She'd seen Mairead use one, but she'd never tried it herself. Still, how hard could it be? It was a corkscrew. It screwed, right? Except balancing it on top of the bottle took both hands, so she had to set the bottle on the dresser. It seemed like no matter how she screwed - t _hat's what she said_ , she thought - the damn thing didn't actually go down into the cork.

"Well this is fucking wick," she said, eying it in frustration. "Either'v you know how this damn thing's meant to work?"

Thranduil came over to her, now not feeling so bad. "I have always seen Earlene remove the...substance, that is on the outside, first. The….metal."

Lorna eyed it. "Well, that'd explain a bit," she said, peeling at it. Naturally, it was too thick to peel that way, and her fingernails were awfully blunt. She wound up breaking part of it with her teeth, then tugging the rest of it free. "Okay, let's try this again." It took all her effort not to just ram the thing into the cork and tear it to bits.

Thanadir now came over, interested. "I have always seen Earlene screw it in further," he noted, genuinely attempting to be helpful. All three of them were staring at the bottle as if it had mystical powers, when Earlene burst out of the bathroom, wrapped modestly in a towel.

All of them were huddled over something that seemed terribly important, so she leaned over as well to see what it was. Perhaps more than anything else, this broke her dour mood over what had happened in the park. "Are you drawing straws over who will pull the cork out?" she asked, honestly not knowing that there could be a problem.

Thranduil looked up and smoothly intervened. "No, meluieg, Lorna was just showing us how to use this kind of opener."

"I'm sure she's better at it than I am. I always have to hold the bottle between my knees with that kind before pulling the cork out; those give terrible leverage. But at least they're cheap," she quipped. "Excuse me, I forgot to bring clean clothes in there," she said, swiftly grabbing the needed items before disappearing again into the bathroom.

Well, if Earlene had a hard time with it, Lorna was hopeless. "Forget this," she muttered, grabbing the hand-towel off the handle of the mini-fridge door. Wrapping it around the bottle, she braced the neck against the edge of the dresser and hit it as hard as she could.

The glass snapped cleanly, and when she took the towel away, she found a smooth, even break. "There. Now we just have to drink the whole bottle, which, wow, what a hardship." She grabbed a glass and held the towel over it, slowly pouring the wine. It would filter out any glass particulates that might have managed to get into the wine. There was nothing quite like breaking glass to cool one's temper, though she'd be much happier if she could just go smash the empty bottle.

Earlene reemerged from the bathroom in time to see the...proceedings. Her eyes widened in disbelief. _It's a fucking wine bottle, for god's sake...really? With a...towel?_ This was really close to the French toast episode, and the last thing she needed to see right now.

 _Meluieg, if you can possibly manage, I would be very grateful if you could not react to this. I will explain at a later time. Could you play along as though this were somehow normal? Please?_

Taking another deep breath, she returned to the bathroom because that's where...combs were. _Sure_. She walked to the toilet and lifted the towel. _THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT_ , she said in her mind, as she pointed to the disturbingly bizarre face. And with another great sigh she came out for a third time, combing her hair. "Pour me a glass," she said. For Thranduil, she would do anything in her power. _If you can't beat 'em, join 'em._

* * *

Song references:

"Imagine", by John Lennon

"Mrs. Robinson", by Simon and Garfunkel

"Meldis" is an affectionate term that indicates a close female friend.


	37. Chapter 37

At the bakery the next morning, Lorna got her usual pastries and tried a new coffee (chocolate cappuccino with extra foam and whipped cream, the addition of which actually made the barista twitch a little - and as ever, she'd had to convey her order through writing, since none of the damn employees understood her accent) and for the first time paused when she passed the basket of newspapers. The headline arrested her where she stood:

 _"Amazons Take Revenge in Central Park."_

No. _No._ Hardly daring to believe what she was seeing, she gleefully snatched one up and brought it back to the table with her. She barely managed to avoid setting her cup right on Thanadir's plate (his disturbingly full plate. His appetite seemed worryingly muted this morning.)

Her eyes darted over the article, following it to its continuation on a further page. She looked at Earlene, and at Thanadir, and pinched her leg really, really hard. What had happened last night was not funny in the least, but this article…

 _Thranduil, those muggers thought Thanadir_ was a woman, she said, unable to speak aloud just yet. She was shaking from her attempt to stifle her laughter, and she wasn't going to be able to manage it much longer. _Help me. This isn't funny_ , _it's_ not, _except it totally is, and if you don't help me I'm going to die laughing._

Earlene looked at the permutations of Lorna's face as she chewed her croissant and frowned, until her eyes drifted onto the headline also. Inhaling sharply, a flake of pastry immediately flew down the wrong pipe, causing her to race outside so she could cough and splutter without being a spectacle. Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to clear her windpipe with rasping coughs that would probably earn her suspicion as a TB patient. In her experience, it was always better to cause a scene out on the sidewalk than in an enclosed building. Always. _Oh HELL no_ , was all she could think, concerning the headline. Thanadir appeared alongside her in a flash, turning her toward him, and placing his hand on her back. In a matter of seconds she no longer felt the horrid sensation... _how did they DO that?_ she wondered. Her composure regained, she thanked him profusely, and they returned inside. Without hesitation she purchased two papers, reasoning that Lorna might not have known to pay for the first one, and returned to her seat and the newspaper. Her eyes were riveted and wide as saucers.

 _"An attempted assault on two joggers went terribly wrong for the criminals last night at Bethesda Terrace in Central Park", the article declared._

 _"They were Amazons," raved one of the criminals-turned-victim at police. News of the violent acts of self-defense spread throughout the Park's homeless community; had the assaults succeeded, it would have marked the Park's tenth violent crime this year._

 _NYPD apprehended and arrested two incapacitated males late last night after the pair admitted to assault and attempted robbery. Authorities believe they may be the same individuals responsible for a recent spate of violent crimes in city parks. It was the second time in only three days that nighttime attacks on women were reported._

 _Michael Thain, 30, and Devin Matthews, 27, are paroled offenders who have served sentences for numerous crimes and violations. But on this occasion, the evening did not go according to plan._

 _NYPD called emergency medical workers to the scene. Both men were transported to area hospitals for their injuries, where both confessed to an attempted robbery of two female joggers. Matthews had been pepper-sprayed and was the recipient of multiple kicks to the groin region by the unknown woman or women, who defended themselves vigorously. Thain reported being hoisted, choked, and disarmed by 'an Amazon that broke his arm' before he lost consciousness._

 _Matthews was found by NYPD rolling in pain on the pavement and Thain was barely coherent; both men were screaming 'protect us' and 'they were Amazons!'_

 _Thain will face additional charges for being a convicted felon in possession of a firearm. A handgun with fingerprints matching Thain's was recovered from the scene. Drug paraphernalia and methamphetamine were also recovered from both men; the results of toxicology screening are pending._

 _A hospital worker who insisted on anonymity stated that injuries to both men included 'serious damage in the form of rupture to the male genitalia.' "_

 _No victims have as of yet come forward to report the assaults. NYPD is asking for any witnesses to please contact Detective Sabean at (718) 233-4578."_

Lorna, still pinching her thigh, shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. The fact that Earlene had ruptured both their bollocks made her feel rather better about not hunting the pair down last night, but they thought...they thought Thanadir was a woman. Okay, he had long hair, and he was a slender sort, so she supposed he could be mistaken for a very tall woman in the dark - but only by someone on drugs. He didn't exactly have a woman's figure. (Then again, neither did she, but _still_ …)

Thranduil looked at his wife with an arched eyebrow; her return expression was somewhat dour.

 _This was the best possible outcome, Hîr vuin, but I would rather that nothing of the sort had happened._

 _They brought this on themselves, meluieg. What was done was necessary, and now these men can face the consequences of your laws._

 _I barely know how to thank Thanadir._

 _He knows of your appreciation, Earlene. To see you safe, he would do that and much more._

Earlene took her husband's hand, and surveyed the untouched pastries still on Thanadir's plate. The bakery staff shot disappointed glances his way from time to time. She'd seen a piece of paper passed around, and wondered if they had made a betting pool centered around the seneschal's appetite. "Cian, you are not hungry this morning?" she asked kindly.

Thanadir looked up sheepishly from his chocolate cappuccino, which seemed to be his favorite coffee. "I think the...Nonna...did something to me, Earlene. I still feel full from last night."

Earlene patted his hand in sympathy and helped herself to one of the uneaten baked goods while her phone chimed with a text message. "I understand. I am only grateful that she did not also bring you dessert. We can save these for later. Today we will go first to another museum." She frowned. "Your tuxedos for tomorrow night have arrived at the concierge. Now I have two reasons to return to our room for a moment. If you will excuse me, this will take only a few minutes." She stood to leave, swiftly procuring a bag for the treats, and Thranduil rose with her.

"We will both be back momentarily."

Neither Lorna nor Thanadir seemed to mind, as they were both now occupied in the newspapers.

The tuxedos were indeed there. Earlene had a mind that these would need to be tried on before they went to the theater in the mid-afternoon; if any alterations were needed, Gino needed enough time to manage that but the odds of this being an issue were minimal. The genial old Italian tailor simply did not ever make mistakes. Thranduil insisted on carrying both garments, and his amorous demeanor in the elevator they had to themselves suggested that his reason for accompanying her had to do with more than acting the part of bellhop.

Once inside the door, all doubt vanished, as she felt his swollen masculinity pressing up against her. "I thought if I could be very quick, that you might indulge me?" he said, as he pressed kisses against her throat. It took little convincing, as she had yearned for him as well but had been held in check by the need to not cause Lorna or Thanadir discomfort. Thranduil chuckled. "You mean, Lorna. Thanadir would merely turn his back and ignore us."

"You're joking," she breathed as she undid his jeans, freeing him, at the same time she stepped out of her own capri pants, and just had the presence of mind to hang the Do Not Disturb placard and lock the door. The rest of the conversation had to wait a moment, but not much longer. Their lust was intense, and in what was perhaps a record for brevity they satisfied each other's wants for the time being, groaning as they each found release. In the tender aftermath of soft kisses, he explained. "I will confess that when Alassëa and I were newly wed, there was more than one instance of unseemliness that Thanadir had to endure from our eagerness. And while I now look back on our behavior and shake my head, it taught me that he can and will do just as I said, and take no offense. He views the marital act as another way in which I find happiness, nothing more or less."

Earlene snatched up her pants, disappearing into the bathroom to both ease nature and reassemble herself. "You elves are remarkable. It is hardly possible for people to hear or see such...activity...without becoming either offended or aroused. Were it not the case, there would be no porn industry."

This caused Thranduil to recall something. "Lorna told me once that I should ask you what a 'porn star' is," he said as he pulled on his trousers.

Earlene rolled her eyes. _Why am I not surprised?_ "They are film actors, but 'porn' means, films in which adults have sex with each other. There is only rarely any kind of plot or story. It is watched to arouse and facilitate sexual fantasy, most often for males who are not partnered. But really there is no clear description for who watches it or finds it appealing. I will confess to having seen some, in order to satisfy curiosity and to try and learn a thing or two but…" she dropped off in mid-sentence.

"But what?" His curiosity was piqued.

"But what is shown is almost always sex in the absence of love, and I believe that much of it does not reflect what a healthy couple would want of each other. Especially, it seems like it teaches men to use women for gratification more than how to treat their partners as individuals. Maybe it is just my perception." She laughed. "Besides, with you, I hardly have much motivation to seek that out. You have kept me very fulfilled, in this way. And that being said, we should return before our dalliance here becomes too obvious," she teased, with one final tasting of his soft lips and a sigh. This vacation was very nice, but it was the least they'd made love since coming together. _Soon we will be home_ , she thought, with a smile.

They took the elevator down. "I meant to thank you again for last night," he said. "About the wine, I mean. What I could not tell you is how upset Lorna was, and that it was necessary to allow her to vent her frustrations with alcohol or find some way to prevent mischief while she went out looking for those you and Thanadir encountered. I felt the alcohol was the lesser of two evils, however great the indignity to the wine bottle and the hotel towel."

"Well, that's not good," Earlene frowned. "I know that she responds...differently, than I would, to many things. But especially here, you don't go looking for additional trouble. There are times I wonder if it would be better to just not tell her about things that are upsetting. While I hate to edit, it's better than worrying that the truth will provoke her into doing something unwise."

Thranduil looked at his wife. "I would ask you not to do that, meluieg, and to give me your trust. Lorna can, and will, learn to do better. But not if she is denied the opportunity. Not if her thinking is never challenged. I do not feel as though I can say more, without…"

Earlene reached up and placed her finger over his lips while her other arm circled his waist. "Even were your word not law to me, I have heard enough. I am not blind; you have your own friendship with her and I will not stand between you. I will do as you ask, and I do not require elaborations. That being said, thank you for explaining to me; at least it makes more sense now."

Thranduil returned her embrace, kissing the top of her head, and reflecting on what Lorna had told him yesterday. She had been right; of all the mortal minds he had encountered, none had been like Earlene. None whatsoever. _How, indeed, had she been the one to come to him? Valar?_ It was much to consider.

Their absence had not been deemed excessive, apparently, as both Lorna and Thanadir were still reading the Times when they seated themselves. "Today we will be in the neighborhood, so I see no reason to carry lunch with us. We can go when everyone is ready."

Lorna had just about finished her coffee (and had to continually wipe off a rather impressive foam mustache before it grew ever more impressive). By now she'd mastered, more or less, her impulse to burst out laughing...so long as she didn't look at the paper. Still, though, how could a person mistake Thanadir for a woman? Yes, he was on the skinny side, and yes, he had fabulous hair, but he was also over six feet tall and entirely lacked anything remotely resembling tits. "I'm good," she said, nibbling the last of her pastry. Her bag was re-packed for the day, and without sandwiches, she'd be able to fit more things in it. She intended to get more souvenirs, dammit, and something less weird than the Statue of Liberty M&M's. She'd got Mairead a real, nice thing; now it was Ratiri's turn.

Earlene led them the few blocks over to the Museum of Modern Art, with a plan to let the suffer among the weirdnesses on the ground floor for awhile, then to take them upstairs to the masterpieces that were the royalty of art on the fourth floor. Then they could amble their way through the rest of it as much or little as they liked. She found that the contrast was just as effective as an art appreciation lecture. Honestly, some of the 'modern' art in here were pieces to which she'd never exactly reconciled herself. All the academic preaching in the world just didn't convince her that a vertical line on a canvas belonged in a museum.

Lorna looked around the room, uncertain what to expect from the name of the place. The interior of the building was mercifully cool, but some of its contents...what the hell was this? Yeah, all of it was bizarre, and she suspected there was some pretentious reason behind all of it, but this one...it was a canvas, taller than she was, painted cobalt blue, with the word OOF painted on it in huge, yellow letters. " _This is art?_ " she demanded, offended on behalf of all actual art everywhere. " _This_ is _art_? Are you fucking kidding me? All right, I'll accept most'v these have got some meaning behind them, but just...no. This isn't art, it's some twat fooling the world into thinking painting OOF on something is worth more than getting binned with extreme prejudice." It was a really, really good thing that she was probably unintelligible to most if not all of the other patrons, because she wasn't about to hold back. "Any kid with paint and a ruler could do that, and I'm betting the bloody thing's worth ten thousand dollars, isn't it?"

Earlene enjoyed Lorna's tirade because privately, she pretty much agreed. And while she didn't know the purchase price of this work, ten grand was just likely waaaay too conservative, given the donor list behind its acquisition. It was probably best to say nothing, and hope Lorna liked the Andy Warhol a little better. Then again, it was fun to foment dissent… "You shouldn't waste _all_ your fuming on 'OOF', Lorna," she said, gesturing across to the next room. "Here is the marvel known formally as 'Equivalent V.' I want you to pay special attention to how this is two layers of firebrick, stacked in an orderly fashion. At gran's farm, Aidan and I made about a dozen of these. Red brick, fire brick, salvaged brick, burned bricks, cinder blocks, cinder pavers...get the idea? And yet stupid us, if we'd only had the brains to drive it down here, one of those piles could've probably paid for my first year's tuition at Columbia." She felt both satisfied and vaguely horrible as she watched Lorna's eyebrows shoot up into her fringe, as she stared at the thing. Too late, Earlene had a twinge of regret...hopefully Lorna wouldn't start re-stacking the bricks; she hadn't thought of that….with a visible glare at her, Thranduil chose just that moment to swoop in because he wanted to show Lorna something.

 _Meluieg, shame on you._

 _I was just entertaining myself._

 _We will discuss this later._

 _Yes, my Lord_ , she said silently, while her ear to ear grin spoke of a far different outcome.

"That's a patio," Lorna said flatly. "That's not art, it's a bloody _patio_." She paused, pained. "Earlene, for the love'v God, tell me they've not got period art here. Seriously. Tell me." Given some of the garbage she'd already seen, she wouldn't put it past this place.

Earlene frowned. "Most of the art here is period art….wait. Suddenly I don't think we have the same definition of that word. You don't...oh my god, you don't mean… No. Just, no. I think it's time we went to the fourth floor. Look, there's the stairs!" At the top, there was a lovely Andrew Wyeth that she enjoyed very much, 'Christina's World'.

Now see, this was what Lorna called proper art, because it actually took skill to produce. She could build a patio or paint OOF on a canvas; she could not, however, do this. "All right, I know there's always meaning behind a real painting, so what's behind this one? Is she paralyzed or something?"

"It says a little bit, on the description," Earlene said. "That woman was someone the artist knew, she'd had polio. So probably you're right, that she couldn't walk. He wanted to show how the woman overcame her condition. Down but not out, or something like that."

Lorna shivered a little. Gran had grown up long before the days of the polio vaccine, and had a few horror stories to tell. Big Jam's mam had had to go into hospital and get stuck in an iron lung for a while, because her lungs wouldn't work right.

Not far away was an artist she actually knew, and not just from _Doctor Who_. There had been a print of _Starry Night_ in the prison library, and it had made her very curious about Van Gogh, and why he painted as he did. The theories that he was schizophrenic made, in Lorna's opinion, a lot of sense, the poor bloke - though there were, so she'd read, doubts about whether he'd been the one to cut his ear off or not. She actually had to tuck her hands behind her back to avoid reaching out and touching the paintings, because she was terribly curious as to what they would feel like. "You know," she said, "I read that a lot'v the Impressionists painted like they did because their eyesight was shite. They painted everything as they saw it, because for whatever reason, they didn't have glasses." She was pretty sure glasses had been expensive as hell back then, so a lot of people who needed them didn't have them. She was quite grateful that she'd reached forty and still didn't need them - but then, Gran had had close to perfect eyesight until the day she died, and she'd been 97.

Earlene definitely was not an art historian, but she tried to explain to the ellyn that up here were paintings that were famous and recognizable to most people, by artists whose names most everyone knew. And that some of the artworks were very, very valuable, which was why guards were everywhere to make sure no one touched them or did anything else they weren't supposed to. And how the different periods of art reflected different ideas, different ways of seeing the world. Unsurprisingly, they liked the Monets and Van Goghs more than the Picassos and Dalis ("Salvador Dali must've dropped a lot'v acid," was Lorna's observation)...but at least they got to see them, along with it a wide swath of what passed for western art. Plenty of people had seen a picture of 'Starry Night', but not so many were privileged to stand in front of the real deal.

Thranduil and Thanadir had said little, while at the museum. Lorna had taken a moment to inspect the gift shop, so the three of them waited for her in the cavernous entry area.

"What did you think?" she asked them.

Thranduil smiled down at her. "Aside from your shameless baiting of Lorna concerning the bricks, I found this enjoyable. Many things here are heartfelt, and moving to look upon."

Earlene's lips parted. He was apparently more serious about that incident than she had realized. "I ask your pardon," she said with humility, lowering her eyes. "I will not do that again." Apparently she was not allowed to have that particular kind of fun, but, she could take that in stride. She conceded, he knew more about Lorna, and likely had his reasons.

Thanadir witnessed this exchange, and his high opinion of Earlene continued to climb. He very much understood being the subject of this kind of rebuke, having received the same from his King more times than he could count. That she responded to Thranduil as he himself would gained his favor, though he knew that nothing about her actions had anything to do with him.

"You have it, meluieg," he said, brushing her cheek with his fingers in affection. That he could be so forthright with his mortal wife was something he was coming to appreciate a great deal. Satisfied that she was forgiven, Earlene turned her attention to Thanadir.

"And you, Cian? Did you like the museum?"

Thanadir turned his thoughts from wherever they were to focus on her question. A slight wrinkle to his youthful forehead was the only thing that betrayed this being a slightly difficult question to answer. "Humans are a complex and diverse group," he said. "The paintings seemed to be about so many different things, and some of them so obviously took a very long time to create. Some I would like to see again, others, I would not. What I take away with me is that the more I try to understand what defines mortals, the more it eludes me."

 _Well that is food for reflection_ , she thought. Did she have a sense of what defined elves? While she hadn't spent time pondering that, she had a feeling that it was an easier answer. And before this great philosophical matter could receive further attention, Lorna returned from the gift shop.

Lorna wasn't quite sure how she was going to carry an 11" by 13" mounted print, but whatever. They'd wrapped it well on top of the shrink wrap, shrouding it in paper and tying a string around it so she could hold it like her purse. She'd drop it off in their room - hell, maybe she'd try to hang it over Scary Bathroom Guy. It wasn't nearly big enough to cover him entirely, but better than nothing. "I knew some modern art could be bloody stupid, but that damn OOF picture takes the flipping cake. For anyone to take that seriously to begin with must'v involved witchcraft."

Back in their room, Earlene announced that it would be necessary for the ellyn to try on their tuxedos for tomorrow night. _Please please please let them need no alterations_ , she thought. As their time here was winding down she was regretting this party invitation more and more, but there was no getting out of it short of all four of them getting the flu (beyond unlikely). After explaining a few details Thanadir might not have seen before, she turned her back though she did not need to, and left them to their devices. A few moments later, throat clearing caused her to turn back around. _Holy Christ, they look good_. It was an expansive effort, to keep her eyeballs in her head, but for Thanadir's sake she tried; Thranduil would know what she was thinking regardless. Which was, that if she had ever wanted to shove him onto a bed and fuck him senseless just based on appearance alone, now would be that time. Only the thinnest hint of a smile and arch of an eyebrow betrayed the degree to which this was pleasing the Elvenking. Trying to beat back the faint flush that she knew was creeping over her cheeks, she refused to look them in the eye and wrenched her mind onto what was important; that these fitted properly. They wore classic 'James Bond' type black tuxes with a twist; the lapels were in black satin and a different silk necktie had been provided for each. Thranduil's had black and silver diagonal pinstripes, and Thanadir's was of an impressionistic print with blacks, dark greys and muted burgundies. They would definitely not be out of place in any manner, tomorrow evening.

"I can find no fault with any aspect of these; I hope they are comfortable enough?"

Nods and smiles from both seemed to settle the matter.

Lorna had headed into the bathroom, for privacy reasons - hers more than theirs, given that they didn't seem to care who saw them without their togs on. She hadn't tried on her own dress since Thanadir altered it for her, and she wanted to make sure nothing had somehow gone wrong. It hadn't; the burgundy velvet was nice and smooth from hanging in the closet, the wrinkles having straightened themselves out (elf fabric, wtf, but she wasn't complaining). It was a kind of Empire waist, with a neckline bordered by a gold ribbon embroidered with suns. The sleeves were embroidered with gold vines, twining their way up her forearms - it was a lovely dress, and not too much for someone her height.

What she really needed to do was practice with that lovely comb, so practice she did, bringing it into a half-updo bun. The lower half she left loose, just because she could, and decided that she'd pass muster, once all was said and done. Still trying to work out how to move in a slightly longer dress without look or feeling like an eejit, she rapped on the door. "You two decent out there?"

"Yes," was Thranduil's amused and drawled response. "You may come out." She could have never bothered to have gone in there, but he knew this was Lorna. "Besides, your opinion is wanted."

The skirt on this thing was longer than she was used to, but mercifully, she could walk easily enough. She stuck her head out the door, and her eyebrows rose.

Privately, she'd wondered just how well tuxedos would work on the elves - after all, tuxedos were thoroughly modern garments. She needn't have worried, though; both of them carried it off a touch too well - possibly well enough that Earlene was going to spend the evening silently staking her claim against all the other women there, if the rich types even did that. "Swanky," she said, heading out and circling them both. "Props to your tailor, Earlene, but I wouldn't go leaving Thranduil or Thanadir for more than three seconds. I don't know if your sort actually grope each other, but you never know." She felt a tidbit ill saying that; while Thanadir hadn't reached Pat-status, he was still nevertheless someone she would never, ever think of like that. The thought of anyone else doing so was vaguely wrong.

Earlene was not certain how to respond to that, because she had never been to one of these parties with an escort to whom she was romantically attached. More or less she'd had a pact with Tim Browning from her office; they would meet up at these things together and between the two of them, fend off unwanted attention. Though few knew it, Tim was uninterested in women, whereas Earlene didn't want the hassle of anyone attempting to hit on her. So successfully had they kept up this ruse over the years that not a few idle gossips believed them to be in a well-hidden office romance. John Oehlert alone knew the truth aside from them, but that was the fabulous thing about John; he kept confidences utterly private.

"Well, it looks like we're set for tomorrow. We've about an hour to change again and get to our next destination. If no one is starving, I thought we'd find dinner afterward?"

Thanadir was first to say yes, which caused her to feel awful. _Nonna ruined him_ , Earlene lamented privately. _We won't even make it to Holey Cream at this rate_. Aloud she said, "We're going to see a theater performance. So clothes that are on the nicer side would have us looking the least out of place," she offered.

Lorna's velvet tunic was still smooth, since she'd had the foresight to hang it up, and she had knee-length leggings that were slightly classier than shorts. "Somebody help me get this thing out'v my hair, will you? I'm afraid if I try to take it on my own, I'll break it." It had three strands of pearls that looped forward from the comb on either side of her head, hooking into her hair, and it seemed to be a lot older than it would have been if someone had given it to Ratiri's mother when it was new. She didn't even want to think about what it was actually worth.

"I've got it," Earlene said, her nimble fingers carefully working out the ornament. This was the first time she'd seen it up close. The weight and smithing of them immediately told her that these were not costume, and that they were, she guessed, upwards of 70 years old. She did not know Far Eastern jewelry well, but she was sure that this was at least 10 karat gold, if not 14, and there was a _lot_ of gold on these. Even if it was the lower grade, they were still valuable for the precious metal alone, never mind the pearls. They were a beautiful gift, and she was so glad that Ratiri had given something this thoughtful and personal.

"Isn't it lovely?" Lorna asked. "Ratiri's mam, she came from a family that had money, and they weren't best pleased she was marrying some middle-class white bloke from Scotland. Still, _her_ mam was an old battleaxe who wanted her only daughter to be happy, so they got a proper wedding in spite'v the rest'v her family, and she got sent to Scotland with all sorts'v presents so it wouldn't seem like another world to her."

Earlene tried to think if she had circumstance like it to compare. "My family was as pasty white as they come," she said. "But unlike many, they weren't bigots. I never heard a harsh word about anyone from other backgrounds. I give them credit for seeing past that. Dad was Irish, obviously, but mom was only half. So I'm actually a bit German. It was the running joke that maybe that's where my coloring is from, since an awful lot of the family looks more like Aidan. Seems like people love to pick on others for their differences, too often."

"I got picked on a bit at school," Lorna said, shaking out her hair. "If you were even vaguely brown at that point, people looked at you weird, but it was never _too_ bad. There were four'v us, and we looked out for each other: if you fucked with one Donovan, all four came down on your head like the fist'v an angry, drunken god. Kept the worst'v it at bay. I didn't care if someone called me Pikey, though I'd thump them if they called Mick that. He was so much more sensitive than the rest'v us."

Earlene raised her eyebrows. This, perhaps, explained a few things. She'd never had any occasion to have to have a...what did you even call that...pack mentality? Because in her world, with the exception of her brother, people were fundamentally decent. And for Aidan, dad and mom were quick to come down on the worst of his shite, especially when she was younger. There had never been any need to think this way. She sighed, remembering what Thranduil had asked of her, and felt vaguely ashamed. It wasn't intentional, that she'd lost sight of their different backgrounds, but, she had. Handing Lorna's comb back to her with a kind smile, she excused herself to hunt up some clothes, and retreated into the bathroom. For a moment, she stood, looking at herself in the mirror, before her heart lurched to see she was not alone. "You're going to kill me one day, coming in like that so silently," she gently reproached her husband. "The human heart isn't built for being startled like that."

Thranduil smiled. "And yet I will not allow yours, which is perfectly healthy, to fail," he said. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For being who you are, meluieg. For your love, your compassion, and for your willingness to follow my direction."

"You are welcome, but aren't you praising me only for doing what is expected? I believe I agreed, especially to that last part," she teased.

She received no reply other than a kiss, a suggestive bite to her lower lip, and a smile. Sighing and shaking her head, she changed her clothing.

Lorna, shaking out her tunic, carried it and her half-leggings into the bathroom, and nearly screamed blue murder when she realized Thranduil was in there, too. When Earlene followed after she shooed him out, she changed as fast as she could, throwing her hair back into a braid and carefully laying the comb in its flat wooden box. The box went back into the hotel room safe, because she didn't care if everything else somehow got nicked, so long as that stayed safe.

They retraced their steps nearly to the restaurant of last night, with Thanadir darting worried expressions at whether he was secretly being taken back to face Nonna again. Taking his arm and patting it, she deliberately led them further down Seventh Avenue before turning off toward the Majestic Theater. "Phantom of the Opera" seemed like a safe and romantic choice (but not too romantic), and certainly was nowhere near what had begun to be thought of in her mind as _Hedwig Level_. She would have to watch it again at home, alone, even if it meant sneaking off with her laptop and earbuds to a dark corner of The Spotted Dick. Her enjoyment of it had been compromised, and needed rescuing.

They found themselves again in a lovely theater, and looked around appreciatively. "What is this about, Earlene?" Thanadir asked, curious.

"This is a musical. Not at all like Hedwig," she hurriedly added, "but alike in the sense that it tells a theatrical story, both in words and in music. It is about a young woman who is alone in the world, who works as a dancer at an opera house in Paris. The setting is something over a hundred years ago in history. All sorts of things happen to her, when two different men become romantically interested in her, and one of those men carries a dark secret. As you can see the name of it is "The Phantom of the Opera."

"Phantom…?" he said, with a hint of confusion, and then she understood.

"A ghost, a spectre... _a faded presence_ , for lack of better words?"

 _That_ word, he knew very well. He nodded, and took his seat.

This was one Lorna knew very well. Mairead was a big fan of West End and Broadway musicals, and had loads of soundtracks. As much of a creep as the Phantom was, she couldn't help but feel rather sorry for _him_ , the poor bastard. Yeah, he did some reprehensible shite, but he was so hideous he didn't dare show his face. That had to fuck a person up. And Raoul...he was just a gobshite. Pushy didn't do him justice.

Still, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, too, in the prologue, given how old and broken he was. And the effect, when the chandelier was lifted and the opera house returned to glory, was staggeringly well-done for a stage production. It actually made her shiver a bit.

Earlene knew this musical backwards and forwards, and this was an excuse to enjoy it again; the music in it was brilliant and had enough classical-like elements to hold her interest. Of course now that she thought about it, maybe it was a little uncomfortable, too. There were echoes of how she came to be wed, in here, though in her eyes she'd gotten a better outcome, by far. But using seduction as a tool of manipulation? Oh yes, that chapter was covered in depth. Aaaand maybe she should think about something else, like how incredible the staging was, and was that an upgraded chandelier?

Thranduil's arm came around her, and his head leaned down to touch hers. They both knew, their beginning could not be undone. _Nothing changes that I love you, meluieg._

 _I know._ She leaned into his hold, glad to be there, however infamously it had all begun.

Perhaps mercifully, Lorna was too entranced to make that unsettling comparison. She had never been to a live show until the ballet, and this was quite different from ballet. That Carlotta was a twat, though; any performer worth their salt went on come hell or high water. Poor Christine... _she_ was a precious cinnamon roll, too pure for the world, and deserved better than the two men she'd attracted. A sociopath and a gobshite...every girl's dream. Except, you know, not. But that she, at her age, had believed in an 'Angel of Music', as opposed to insanity or a potential stalker...well. Some people were just naive, and the girl _was_ an orphan.

And as creepy as the Phantom was, the set and scene when he took Christine underground left Lorna wide-eyed with delight. It was spooky and beautiful, and whoever had first blocked it out was a genius. Candles and music and mist, oh my.

Earlene was transfixed...whoever the singers were, they were _that_ good. And she'd heard more than one, in this role. The soprano was flawless, and believable in her role as a young woman. And the guy singing the Phantom...um, _Jesus. Sex in a bottle_ , just like he needed to be. Glancing over at the seneschal, she smiled. _I hope, later on, it will be workable to take him to see movies, movies on the big screen_. She now wanted him to see the best ones, with all the enticement a real theater had to offer. Hm. Of all the activities on this trip, simply going to see a movie had not crossed her radar...but just any movie wouldn't do. This would require some thought...though, _Alice in Wonderland_ already came to mind...

A light brush of fingers on her cheek helped steady her busy thoughts, especially since her brain was probably drowning out the singers in Thranduil's ears. _I am sorry_ , she sent. She managed to refocus her attention for all the many scenes. There was intermission, and then her favorite one of all...the Masquerade. This, in her mind, was the pinnacle of the production, not only for musical complexity but also for the show-stopping wardrobe. Probably the highlight of her time was going to be the memory of Thanadir's face when the gorgeous dresses and masks, waistcoats and realistic animal costumes were all trotted onstage at once. When he was completely entranced, his lips parted and his entire face relaxed and it melted her heart to see this.

Just like with the ballet, this was a _really_ good production.

Lorna found herself following the song, mouthing the lyrics while the dancers spun, until the Red Death made his appearance. How the actor could move in that mask and not run into anyone or anything, she didn't know. _Don Juan Triumphant_...talk about a pompous bloody title. Not just a sociopath, but a pretentious one, and yet she still found him less obnoxious than Raoul. Poor Christine. Alas, this was not like _Repo! The Genetic Opera_ or _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ ; audience participation was not encouraged. (And she was, sooner or later, showing both movies to the elves...though not at the same time. Nowhere near the same time. Just...no.) While this Phantom sounded like sin personified (where had they found this performer? He was phenomenal), she still didn't think he was as good as Graverobber in _Repo!_

All too soon, the final strains of music played, and the rose was left behind. Enthusiastic cries of "Bravo!" echoed all around, and Earlene glanced at Thanadir once again, to see that another lone tear rolled down his cheek. She did not care, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Meldir," she said, patting him on the arm. Did Thranduil have any idea how special his seneschal was? Of course he did, but...still. She was quickly distracted by a kiss to her own cheek, as she looked up into the sparkling eyes of her husband, their blue muted and changed in the still-dim lighting. _I will kiss your cheek too_ , if you help me a little, she said mischievously. His extra inches of height made that a challenge. She felt his lips instead, but that was hardly a problem. They applauded along with the rest, and a good time had been had by all.

That had been bloody _brilliant_. Lorna could see, now, why Mairead was so in love with musicals; her sister had actually been to a few in the West End, and seeing them live was so much better than just listening to a soundtrack. She didn't at all mind that her arse had gone to sleep, sitting in that lovely comfy chair; they had a bit before it would be their turn to file out. "I didn't realize it'd be like _that_ , seeing it on a stage," she said. "Or hearing it." Mairead had a grand sound system, but nothing compared to a live performance.

But now she was hungry, and hoped Thanadir's appetite had returned at least somewhat. She needed to eat and digest all she'd just seen, the beauty and the sheer scope of it. She'd never given live theater a great deal of thought one way or the other, but now...Jesus.

Earlene leaned in as they waited their turn to leave. "So there are multiple choices but I was thinking Mexican, Greek, or Afghani. Any input? I thought we owed Thanadir an ethnicity where nothing like a Nonna could possibly appear."

Lorna didn't want to point out an an Abuela might be just as dangerous as a Nonna, because she really wanted Mexican. She'd never had proper Mexican food; the average Irish stomach couldn't handle spicy foods, so even true Spanish dishes weren't a thing. They were all the watered-down sort that contained maybe half a pinch of anything discernibly spicy. "I vote Mexican," she said. "We can always get Greek back home, and I'm not even sure what Afghani food is. I'm not feeling _that_ adventurous."

Earlene knew that the ellyn would not know up from down about any of her proposed choices. And, she should be able to steer them away from anything too risky. "Then Mexican it is," she said. "We will walk over to Hell's Kitchen, there is a great place by 54th Street."

Lorna used the walk as an excuse to stretch a bit, pleased that today wasn't nearly as oppressive, heat and humidity-wise. Still warm by her standards, but it was rather nice. Humming under her breath, she eyed the city, still feeling so very small within it. But then, she was fairly certain _everyone_ felt a least a little small - possibly even the elves. With so many people here, how could you not?

And yet she found she missed Ratiri immensely. Sending him emails full of the weird and wonderful shite they'd done wasn't the same as talking to him, and they were banjaxed by the time zone differences.

"Meluieg, is not 'Hell' a religious word for a bad place in the afterlife? Why is this area called 'Hell's Kitchen'? That seems like a terribly unattractive designation, for a part of a city."

Breaking into laughter, Earlene choked out a reply. "It is. And you ask a good question; there is still no agreement as to why it has that name, exactly. But all of the answers given will reflect on the fact that at one time, this area was awful. It was working-class Irish for much of its history, poor, and violence ran unchecked here. Everything changed beginning about forty years ago, so of course I have no perspective on what it once was. The one I like the best was said by Davy Crockett, an American frontiersman. He said, in so many words, that the Irish were so awful that they were too mean to clean Hell's Kitchen."

Lorna burst out laughing. "Well, we'd take that as a compliment," she said.

Ushered in, they all found themselves seated and handed menus that only Earlene had a prayer of understanding. The waiter looked all too eager to mansplain it all for them, and seemed vaguely disappointed when she had no intention of asking him to clarify the offerings. She ordered different house margaritas for all of them, on the rocks, and had all but hers upgraded to a grande size. Lorna would either love or hate tequila, and this was the benign way to test the waters. "Pick what you'd like, or if your brain freezes I'm happy to do what we did last night with, uh, less food."

Lorna eyed the menu, spoiled for choice. She'd never actually had lobster before, so why not. "Can I get the Langosta?" she asked, looking up at the waiter - who, naturally, looked down at her with polite incomprehension. Her accent was probably mangling even the name of the dish beyond recognition. Holding the menu out, she pointed, and comprehension dawned.

"Yes, yes." He turned to Earlene. "Does your friend have a hard time here, needing a translator? My abuela, she understands, but she cannot speak, too."

Lorna didn't even bother to stop herself facepalming.

Earlene looked up at him with her sweetest expression, and spoke. "Ella está hablando inglés." _My friend, your tip just went down at least seven percent_. The look on his face transformed from confident smugness to embarrassment and confusion. "We are Irish," Earlene explained further. "This _used_ to be an Irish part of town." And then she continued to breezily order four entrees ranging from sea bass to the chicken borrachos, plus two more orders of tacos different than what Lorna had asked for, because no one should have been to Mexican without having had at least one (and these were small). She should not admit to herself how much she was enjoying the waiter's defeated expression, but, dammit, she really was. All those lunches with her Hispanic friend at the office, who had taught her flawless pronunciation plus some basic phrases, had just paid off in dividends. Maria would be very, very pleased.

"I knew that'd happen sooner or later," Lorna sighed. "I just _knew_ it. D'you have any idea how lucky I counted myself, that you lot could understand me without resorting to bloody sign language?" Yeah, Thranduil had the telepathy, so her verbal speech wouldn't have mattered either way, but Earlene and Thanadir had not, to her knowledge, had much trouble at all when she kept it muted. "Christ, even when I first moved to Baile people had an issue sometimes. You should've heard me trying to deal with customers at Jamie's."

Earlene frowned. "I never thought you were that hard to understand. I mean, when you go off into Irish yeah, I can only get that I'm probably hearing cussing. It's funny because I always figured I'd be the one no one would hear right; I must sound like a complete...American. The only thing I can say in my defense is, at least I'm not from the south. They really do sound completely different, down there."

Thranduil watched all of this with interest and amusement, and then their drinks arrived. Privately, he thought that the beverage was close to the size of Lorna's head. For fun Earlene had switched up the flavors. Thanadir had watermelon, Thranduil the traditional lime, and Lorna got guava. After they all were done seeming alarmed, they cautiously leaned forward and tried them. At least the elves seemed to not be repulsed. Earlene now looked at Lorna. "You can all trade off, if you'd like, the fruit juices are different."

Guava, Lorna discovered, was sweet, but not overly sweet. She did a bit more than 'try', though; ignoring the straw, she took what was at least a fairly restrained drink. Jesus, she could have the whole thing on her own, but she dutifully passed it onward, setting it before Thanadir's plate.

The elves and Lorna passed their glasses until the round was made, after which Thranduil declared, "I like best the one I originally had. It is not so sweet." Earlene arched her eyebrow. That left Thanadir and Lorna to pronounce judgement on watermelon and guava.

"Christ, I like them both, but I think the guava's my favorite. If we've got that in Ireland, I've never heard'v it," Lorna said, intending to look into it once they were home. By the time the drinks had fully made their rounds, she was feeling quite at one with the world, and possibly even very slightly buzzed. That was some potent damn tequila, if it could do that to her so soon.

"I like my watermelon," Thanadir said. "What is a watermelon? What are any of these fruits?"

 _Valid question_ , she thought. Bringing out her phone, she soon had photos of the three to show him. "Honestly the only one half typical to this area is watermelon, and only in the summertime. But I think you may have seen where Mexico is, on a map? It is much warmer there, and all these fruits are very common."

The waiter now appeared with their plates, and the smells were enticing. He seemed only mildly perturbed by their intention to share plates, to which Earlene sincerely believed that he needed to get out more often. Much more often. But best of all, after having had a brief rest, Thanadir's enthusiasm for food seemed to be renewing. "These are flavors which might be unusual to you, and sometimes this cuisine can be spicy hot. I tried to choose foods that would not be too strong." The nodding of heads and the steady eating seemed to mean that her choices were decent, and the food really was delicious. Because there had been no real cause for complaint, the poor man's tip was restored to being within an anticipated range, and soon they left. _Now, for the moment of truth._ "Can I interest anyone in dessert?" she asked. "There's a really fun place, right nearby."

Thanadir immediately looked nervously optimistic. _Victory!_ thought Earlene. But so much better, if Lorna jumped on board, too.

"Donuts?" Lorna asked. "Sign me up." She was going to gain ten pounds on this trip, but oh well. This was a city of amazingly tasty food, and she wasn't about to deny herself - plus, they'd done so damn much walking that she needed to keep her calorie count up anyway. At least, that was her excuse.

Earlene took Thranduil's hand. _For what I am about to do, forgive me_ , she sent. The King chuckled and shook his head. He did not seem too upset, but neither had he laid eyes on this...quite….yet. Rounding the corner, they approached Holey Cream, where 'all the fat and twice the sugar' was not merely a saying. They came to the storefront, and she explained. "This is a dessert establishment that specializes in combining donuts and ice cream. Or cupcakes and ice cream. And toppings. And any imaginable form of sugary thing with every conceivable form of fattening sugary thing. I personally recommend the donut and ice cream sandwich, but don't let my lack of imagination slow you down."

Thranduil looked at the display cases and his lips parted, as he looked up at the menu, down at the donuts and cupcakes, and back up to the menu, and saw the other patrons filing out with their orders. _By Eru, now I know why she said that._

Lorna wanted absolutely everything. _Everything,_ starting with the Nutella donut , through the hot fudge sundae, past the Irish coffee ice cream and down through the sea-salt caramel. "Please, please tell me some'v these donuts'll keep overnight," she said, wondering if it would be too much of a hassle to have half this shop shipped back to Ireland. Probably.

"Donuts get weird after a day, but that depends on your level of personal determination, too." Earlene's hand flew over her mouth as she saw Thanadir approaching the donut display like a pilgrim arrived at a shrine. Somehow, somehow, the place was not crowded at the moment, so he could afford to do this without incurring anyone's ire. "Do you know what you would like?" she asked him encouragingly, even though his eyes clearly said 'the entire shop'.

"I like chocolate," he said, overwhelmed, "but I do not know what to do."

"Do you want me to order for you?"

The seneschal nodded.

"Donut sandwich, that chocolate cake donut with the chocolate glaze and chips, one scoop of Belgian chocolate chip ice cream, and the other scoop Midnight Cookies and Cream." _And may the Valar help you eat it_ , she thought. For herself she picked the same, but chose ice cream flavors she suspected she and Thranduil both could share-sea salt caramel and pistachio on a vanilla glazed cake donut, because it was a foregone conclusion she could not possibly eat all of it herself.

Lorna, determined, managed to combine enunciation with her shitty handwriting and build her own sundae: Irish coffee ice cream, salted caramel, Nutella donut, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles, just...because. At least the cashier was patient when it came to her rather hellish accent, and the result was a cardboard carton half the size of her head, a mound of creamy deliciousness that she was probably going to regret later, but whatever. She clutched it like a child - hell, like Smeagol in _Lord of the Rings_ \- inordinately pleased.

They paid, and began ambling down the sidewalk on the still warm summer evening. Thranduil, who was more than content to have his share after his wife lost her battle with her dessert, realized that the best thing he could do would be to bring up the rear of their single file line so that no one crashed into a rubbish bin or otherwise became lost. To their credit, they did keep walking, though not perhaps as fast as some of the natives who passed them might have liked. Once they reached Times Square, though, all bets were off and they stood in an out of the way place, bunched together, with Thranduil ensuring any potential trouble remained at a distance while his charges ate themselves silly. What boggled him the most was that no fewer than eleven passers-by looked at the nutritional debacles with great envy, and asked for directions to the shop. After the third time, even he could say "796 Ninth Avenue" as though he lived here, and point the correct way. _The Elvenking of Eryn Galen is now giving directions to donuts_ , he thought, and had to pinch the bridge of his nose on principle. Thanadir, to his partial astonishment, ate his entire dessert. Earlene consumed exactly two-thirds, carving her spoonsful out in an elegant way that left the remaining portion still visually attractive and in pristine condition. And Lorna….

Lorna worked her way through her carton with single-minded determination, unwilling to waste even a spoonful. She would utterly regret it later, especially on top of the Mexican food, but that was what Thranduil and his lovely, wonderful magical healing was for. She was gaining an ever greater appreciation for it on this trip, even if only for either annoyances like cramps, or the results of her own stupidity. Letting any of this go to waste would be a travesty, so she ate on, unaware that she had a tiny dollop of whipped cream on the end of her nose. Watching the screens, the lights, the foot traffic, the real traffic...strangely, a shiver passed through her, and she thought again of _The Stand_ , and what had happened to Manhattan in the book. She definitely needed to not go to bed with indigestion, lest she have nasty dreams.

Earlene handed over her dessert to Thranduil, who held out his hand with an utterly amused look. He tasted the first bite, and almost hated to admit that he really liked the pistachio, whereas the salted caramel was only slightly sweeter than he preferred. Even the donut, if he avoided the glazed section, was half-enjoyable. They returned to their hotel room with eyes that were just as glazed as the donuts. Everyone but Thranduil wordlessly laid themselves down onto the layers of pillows, propped up, and stared into space, with an occasional soft moan. After ten minutes, Earlene fumbled for the remote, and turned on the television.

Lorna decided it was time to ditch the leggings for her sweats, so she hopped into the bathroom and swapped out her fancy clothes for her rather ratty ones, then broke out her laptop. She had another email to concoct for Ratiri, which included a picture Earlene had taken of her with her dessert from hell. "I don't think I'll eat another thing for the next five years," she said.

Earlene began flipping through movie choices but then stopped, rose up, and semi-discreetly ditched her clothes in favor of loose, baggy garments that she would not feel obligated to think about breathing in. While doing so she caught sight of her dress for tomorrow night and wondered if she should eat between now and then. The better question was whether eating was possible. With another grunt of discomfort, she laid down again.

And there it was. _The Princess Bride_. With a soft chuckle, she did not even ask, but went ahead and selected it.

"Yeeeessss," Lorna said, grinning. "I've always wanted to sword fight someone and say I'm not left-handed, except I actually am left-handed." She settled back against her pillows, snickering a little the grandfather pinched the kid's cheek (studiously not looking at Thanadir), and even more when the grandfather said, "When I was your age, television was called books." It was weird to think that that kid was around her age. Who the hell named their kid Buttercup, though? Yeah, she was blonde, but still. "Cary Elwes was a looker, but he sure did age weird."

Earlene took her wad of pillows and edged back against Thranduil, determined to be mildly mushy during this epic extravaganza. "Why is it always a Prince?" she muttered. "Sometimes it's a King." But she really didn't want a response to that.

"The first time I heard the name 'Humperdinck', I just about laughed myself sick," Lorna said. "I mean, really? Not exactly subtle, that."

 _We're watching The Princess Bride_ , she wrote Ratiri. _These poor elves arent going to want to watch more movies ever again._

"We are but poor lost circus performers," she said, cackling, before returning to her email. "I can think of very few weaker lies."

 _I've attached a picture of this crazy bowl of ice cream. We went to this place called HOley Cream which had so many deserts it would take me a year to eat them all. I didnt get any pictures at Phantom of the Opera, though I took a couple of the theatre before everyone got seated. Thanadir especialy loved it._

Ugh. She realized she sounded utterly pathetic, but she didn't care. "Thranduil, my digestive system is going to make all of us very unhappy if you don't please put me out of my indigestional misery." She was pretty sure 'indigestional' wasn't actually a word, but whatever. "Please?" She could tell already there was a cauldron of nastiness brewing in her gut, and she was sure they would all prefer it if it didn't manage to unleash itself to the world via the power of fart. For all she knew, elves _didn't_ fart. (It was one of the few questions she just wasn't going to ask, either. Ever.)

"There is nothing nearby, not for miles," Earlene said, grumbling only mildly inside of herself when Thranduil rose to help Lorna. It wasn't the helping Lorna part, it was that she'd just gotten over here (the beds were huge) and had remembered her first quote. Then again, the spectre of what 'indigestional misery' might reference could be something she'd thank him greatly for averting. He returned soon enough, and made up for his absence by setting aside his laptop and taking her into his arms so that she could watch the movie resting against him. Now she felt very happy.

"Thank you," Lorna sighed, beyond relieved. "You know, the way Vizzini says 'Unemployed, in _Greenland?!_ has always cracked me up. Like somehow being in Greenland was shameful, not being unemployed."

"THOSE are the SHRIEKING EELS!" now Earlene was having more fun, especially when Thanadir actually gasped just when the eel was almost ready to bite Buttercup. _God he is precious_ , she thought. Fortunately, no one but her likely noticed because Lorna was too busy making the shrieking eel noise.

"Here we go!" Earlene said. "I get Inigo….. 'That Vizzini, he can _fuss_.'" Lorna did not skip a beat.

Lorna cackled. "Fuss, fuss… I think he like to scream at _us_ ," she said.

"Probably he means no _harm_ ," Earlene said, while actually wiggling in Thranduil's arms from excitement. She ignored that she heard 'Eru, help me," from the peanut gallery.

"He's really very short on _charm_ ," Lorna snickered.

"You have a great gift for rhyme," Earlene said, gently poking Thranduil.

Lorna gave a vague but expansive gesture, fortunately not hitting Thanadir in the face. "Yes, yes, some of the time," she said, then, in a higher voice, "Enough'v that."

Earlene splayed out her hands. "Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?"

"If there are, we all be dead," Lorna said, nearly knocking her laptop off her lap as she shifted.

In stereo, and past caring, both women now ran on in duet: "No more rhymes now, I mean it!"

"Anybody want a peanut?" Lorna asked, and dissolved into helpless laughter.

Thanadir picked that exact moment to ask, "What is a peanut?" and Earlene lost it too. She had to reach over to pause the playback, because three minutes were necessary to regain speaking ability, by which time Thanadir had already rolled his eyes and Googled "peanut".

Taking advantage of the pause, Thranduil stole the remote from Earlene. "I fail to see why this dialogue is so funny," he said. "Can either of you explain, while still retaining the ability to breathe? Even your thoughts do not make sense." he complained.

His wife sat up and turned to him. "It's the _Princess Bride_. One of perhaps only a handful of perfect movies ever made, to which most of the dialogue is known and memorized and cherished. It would be wrong not to laugh, because it is funny."

That Lorna was nodding in vigorous agreement was not helping, so he relented and returned the remote.

 _Besides, it isn't like I'm reenacting the swordfight_ , Earlene reasoned. _At least that would be an understandable cause for grouchiness._ "What is the swordfight scene, and how do you reenact it?" the King asked aloud.

 _Oh now you've done it_ , Earlene thought, looking nervously over at Lorna. _I hope the hotel room survives._

Lorna grinned. "The sword fight is _brilliant_ ," she said. "Inigo and the Dread Pirate Roberts have a sword fight despite the fact that they're kind'v figuring out they could be friends, if they weren't meant to be enemies." She hopped off the bed, rifling through the closet in search of something vaguely sword-like that also wouldn't actually break anything. For whatever reason, there were a few empty cardboard tubes at the back, too big to be for paper towels but too small to be wrapping paper of any sort. With a flourish, she presented one of them to Earlene, who immediately thought, _natho nin_ , while realizing she had no choice. "You seem a decent fellow," Lorna said, in a truly horrendous attempt at a Spanish accent. "I hate to kill you."

Earlene sprang up onto the bed, only faintly groaning at her still bulging stomach. "You seem a decent fellow," she returned. "I hate to die."

"Begin," Lorna said, still in that awful accent. No doubt her wild attempts at cardboard swordsmanship would make the elves wince, but she was having way too much fun. "You are using Bonetti's defense against me, uh?"

"I thought it fitting, considering the terrain," Earlene said, now bouncing over to Thanadir and Lorna's bed in one leap.

"Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro," Lorna said, springing up onto the mattress. She paused only long enough to set her laptop safely out of the way, where she couldn't step on it, and did her best not to trod on poor Thanadir, either.

"Naturally, but I find that Thibault cancels Capo Ferro, don't you?" Earlene whacked at Lorna's cardboard tube a few times gratuitously, hoping like hell she wasn't about to step on Thanadir.

Lorna dodged around the poor elf, barely. "Unless the enemy hasn't studied his Agrippa, which I have!" She gave Earlene's tube a few swats, for effect. "You are wonderful!"

Feeling her way with her toes, Earlene did her best to step to the other side of Thanadir, while saying, "Thank you, I've worked hard to become so."

"I admit it, you are better than I," Lorna confessed, taking a couple steps backward so the poor elf could have some breathing space.

"Then why are you smiling?" asked Earlene, feinting forward though her feet went nowhere.

"Because I know something you don't know," Lorna said, still smiling.

"And what is that?" Earlene queried dramatically.

"I," Lorna said, tossing the tube from her left hand to her right, "am not left-handed." Except that she was, and extremely so, so her already pathetic swordsmanship, if it could be called that, grew even worse.

"You're amazing!" quipped Earlene, bouncing backward off the bed to the floor and alighting softly (after checking that she could not possibly do something stupid like land in a trash can.)

"I ought to be, after twenty years," Lorna said, following her. Fortunately she had not had enough to drink to upset her balance, so she didn't stumble into Earlene or anything else.

Earlene edged around the foot of the bed not sure if she should admit how fun this was. It might beat how amusing her husband hopefully found this. "There is something I ought to tell you."

"Tell me," Lorna said, with a rather dramatic sweep of her arms, just barely blocking a blow from the cardboard weapon.

"I'm not left handed either," she said, tossing the cardboard tube to her other hand at the same time she leaped back up onto the bed. She was honestly amazed she caught the thing, it would have been just like her to drop it.

Lorna followed her. "Who are you?" she asked, her accent veering from half-assed Spanish into something vaguely Dutch.

"No one of consequence," she said, standing momentarily tall and looking as capable as she actually wasn't.

"I must know," Lorna said earnestly.

"Get used to disappointment", Earlene deadpanned.

Lorna shrugged. "Okay," she said, and redoubled her so-called 'attack'.

Earlene was not expecting this, having assumed that the last of the spoken dialogue would end their exchange. She dropped into a crouch, instinctively using the footwork she'd been taught to back away from Lorna, at which point she began to trip over Thanadir's legs (how this had not happened sooner, was perhaps the real miracle), only to find herself firmly caught before she could fall off the bed.

"Entertaining as that was, I believe it would be good to return to viewing the film," the seneschal said in that voice that meant, the fun was over. For emphasis, he extended his hand, silently asking for her cardboard tube before effortlessly carrying her back to her own bed and plunking her on the mattress. What Earlene did not see was that Thranduil was shaking with laughter. She mistook the scowl that came over Thanadir's face as being directed at her, and meekly reached for the remote without a hint of resistance. With a last huff of indignation directed at his King, he shrugged at Lorna as he returned to his former place. Secretly, he was pleased that Earlene had remembered her sword training, but he would not divulge that just now.

Oddly enough, they had just reached the Cliffs of Insanity, which meant that the real sword scene was only minutes away.

"Killjoy," Lorna muttered. "We hadn't even got to the best part." Rolling her eyes, she flopped back onto the bed, defiantly hanging onto her own cardboard weapon. "Once you've seen this scene, you'll see why we ought to'v finished it." In that moment Thanadir reminded her far too much of Mairead, a comparison she was quite sure he wouldn't appreciate. At all.

"MAWWAIGE," hollered Earlene, having regained her enthusiasm by then. "MAWWIAGE, iv whaa bwings us togevaaaaah, today." Laughing, she did have the presence of mind to say to Thranduil that this was not any kind of ordinary human wedding ceremony. This information did not stop him from snuggling closer against her.

Later, Prince Humperdinck onscreen said, "A technicality that will shortly be remedied. But first things first. To the death."

Lorna snickered. "No! To the pain." Her attempt at an English accent was every bit as awful as her attempt at a Spanish one.

Humperdink, again: "I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase."

Grinning, Lorna said, "I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon." She was too busy laughing through Humperdinck's next line about being insulted, but she managed her own. "It won't be the last. To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose."

"And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight," Humperdink intoned.

"I wasn't finished," Lorna declared. "The next thing you will lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."

"And then my ears, I understand, let's get on with it."

"Wrong!" Lorna said gleefully. "Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe

that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out "Dear God, what is that thing?" will echo in your perfect ears. That is what "to the pain" means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever." She paused. "D'you have any idea how often my gang and I tossed that one around? There's a reason I remember it so well," she cackled.

Thranduil's eyes widened. Not at the film dialogue, but at how much Lorna apparently would like to have an excuse to do those things to one she felt deserved it - specifically, last evening's muggers. He tried to think on his many, many experiences fighting, and for all he had killed he could not relate to this level of bloodlust outside of a pressing need to enter that frame of mind. He could honestly say that he had never sat home on his throne and fantasized about torturing orcs. Right now, there was nothing he could think of to say; he would have to reflect on this more.

Lorna, all oblivious, giggled her way through the rest of the movie, eventually tossing her cardboard tube back into the closet. "We should do that again, with Ratiri. He's more'v a nerd than he lets on to most, I'm sure he could quote it, too."

Thranduil held out his hand for the remote. Movies were fine, perhaps something else interesting was on? This one had been charming, for all the silliness. "This one, 'Apollo 13' is it good?" Enthusiastic nods from the women confirmed the choice, plus, there might be something to be learned here. He and Thanadir watched, but Lorna and Earlene fell asleep at various points in the film. There were many choices, and he and the seneschal stayed up rather late, enjoying the quiet activity.

"That's the Titanosaur," said Earlene. "They only just acquired it before I left New York. It was a big deal, no pun intended." Their cab ride to the Museum of Natural History had been spent with her trying to explain what sorts of things they would see, and that there would not be paintings. Or bricks.

"Jesus bloody Christ," Lorna said, staring up at it. Obviously, dinosaurs were enormous, but you just didn't get the full, true scope of it until you were standing in front of the skeleton of one. "Good thing we weren't around when they were, or we'd've all been breakfast." Had elves been around then? Just how old were they, as a species?

Thanadir and Thranduil stared at the skeletons and frowned. Then looked at each other, frowned some more, and kept on frowning. "We have never heard of anything like this. These. I have seen and fought many of the creatures of Morgoth but…

"If I may tease, these are so old that you are as young to them as we are to you. They lived before any kind of human life existed on this world. Or, er, any two-legged intelligent creatures. Not thousands of years ago, but hundreds of millions. Some of these are skeletons of herbivores; plant eaters. Others I imagine could have given dragons a run for their money. You can sort of tell by the teeth," she offered.

"Next Movie Night has to be _Jurassic Park_ ," Lorna said. "Some'v it's inaccurate because we've learned more since then, but it's a damn good movie, and somebody must'v sold their soul to the Special Effects gods, because it still looks shockingly good even today." She paused, and knew exactly, exactly what she had to get Ratiri. "If there's a gift shop here, I need to get something shaped like a velociraptor. I don't even know what, but... _something_."

"I think we should see the Planetarium show first; that will get really crowded later on," Earlene hinted. "We can come back and ogle the dinosaurs in greater detail. And I'm pretty sure the gift shop here will make you happy, Lorna," she smiled.

The Planetarium film was called Dark Universe, and promised to be an explanation of cutting-edge understanding of the history and composition of the universe, complete with astonishing graphics and NASA footage. Earlene bit her lip. They'd not discussed this topic, or anything like it. Did the ellyn know about anything beyond what they saw when they looked up at the night sky? Feeling remiss for not having prepared them for this branch of science in any manner, there was little she could do now; they were all in line.

 _Do not worry, meluieg, I am certain we will manage_ , Thranduil said.

 _I know you will manage, beloved. It is whether or not your frame of reference for your very existence is about to be given a rather large shove, or not, that concerned me. I feel bad for not thinking about this, but as we all know, I do not manage everything_. She smiled and shrugged.

The film impressed the hell out of Earlene and Lorna. It was incredibly interesting, and educational. When they emerged, Earlene said, "I'm not so good with this kind of information; the math and the physics. I feel like I understand what they showed, but in half an hour I'll struggle to even tell you what dark matter is. Sure makes you wonder what we'll know in another hundred years, if we keep plugging along. Just, damn…"

The ellyn actually looked vaguely pale, which was saying quite a lot. Thanadir was the first to speak. "How could you know about all this? I did not understand until the movie last night that humans have gone up outside the planet. And to see so far away, so long ago. It is very difficult to accept that all this has been, and we did not know."

"You couldn't be expected to, now could you?" Lorna asked. "You lot, you've got some wonderful things that we just couldn't ever duplicate, but you'd no way'v knowing anything about technology - and there's still loads you don't know. Hell, there's loads I don't know." She shook her head. "Astronomy, though - that'd do anyone's head in, if they thought about it too much. Anyone but the astronomers themselves. You know we've got a space station floating around above Earth? The one they showed in the film? It's not got anything like _Star Trek_ \- we're still waaaaay behind that level'v technology - but it's an international thing, and it's got astronauts from all over the world, studying the effects space has on living things. Ohhh, and that gives me another idea for Movie Night - _The Martian_." So far as she'd read, the science behind that one was hard, not soft, and actually pretty damn accurate.

In a sense, she felt a bit sorry for the elves. Without actually trying, they'd automatically been superior to humans in pretty much everything for...well, forever. Finding out humans had so surpassed them in a couple ways must be kind of a shock, but she hoped it was a good one.

"I would very much like to learn more about these things," said Thanadir.

Earlene chuckled. "There are hours upon hours of excellent quality programs that will teach you. And then you will have the website for NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, which operates all the space telescopes that have allowed many of these discoveries to happen. For all that I don't remember what I've learned, I too enjoy this. Perhaps I can watch some of it with you," she grinned. "Did you watch it on TV, Lorna, when the Mars rovers landed in 2004? Our whole office had that up on computer screens, I will confess. It was very exciting, even to a bunch of lawyers."

Lorna grinned. "Liam and I did, yeah. We'd heard it was happening, so we actually got a hotel room rather than sleep in the van. Bloody early in the morning for us, but we just stayed up all night. Liam, he'd figured we'd be on our way to Mars ourselves by now. Neither one'v us knew a damn about spacecraft."

"Why would so many people care about that, meluieg? I do not understand."

 _Why did they care about it...it's a good question._ "Well, for me anyway, even though I understand none of it and am not smart enough to have contributed anything but tax dollars, it was something people accomplished. Humans. And so in a way it felt like it was something all of us had managed. Something to be proud of."

"And you Lorna? Why did you do that?" The King looked genuinely interested in the answer.

"That's easy," she said. "We're a bunch'v greedy, cantankerous fuckers, but we somehow got our shite together enough, and were willing to give enough, to send something into space. Something that wasn't going to make a shitload'v money for anyone who worked on it - just something that was meant to learn and explore. All we're getting from it is knowledge, not some kind'v profit, and you'd be hard-pressed to find many out there who'd open their wallet for that, yet we did it. Restored my faith in humanity a bit. I've got to say, it gave me chills. Then Liam laughed, and poked me, and we got drunk."

"We had champagne in the lunch room. It didn't feel so awful, given that everyone there was working into the evening that day; this was hardly happening during normal business hours. In fact that night may have set a record for case productivity, at least until those balloon-thingys entered the Martian atmosphere."

"Martian?" asked Thanadir.

"Mars. _Carnil_ ", said Thranduil, using the Sindarin word he would understand.

"You have sent objects...to Carnil?" the seneschal asked, his eyes widening.

Earlene and Lorna nodded, feeling vaguely apologetic though they'd not had shite to do with it. The poor elf looked like his brain was about to liquefy. "Let's go see the exhibit about sea life," Earlene offered. "I heard there is a replica of a whale there now."

"I would like to learn more of that, Thranduil said," looking a little concerned for Thanadir himself... _that_ wasn't usual.

Poor Thanadir… "We've got a really famous book about a whale," Lorna said, hoping to be a distraction. " _Moby Dick_. It's one'v those books you either love or hate. I've never tried to read it myself, though I've run across some damn odd analyses'v it." The most interesting had been that the book was actually somehow a representation of Ahab's desire to fuck a whale. She'd certainly never think about peg-legs the same way again. Ever.

They went to the Hall of Ocean Life, which they all enjoyed immensely. The life-size fiberglass blue whale did not disappoint. It caused Earlene to realize, she'd never been on a ship or on the ocean. Then again, gazing at the depiction of the giant squid and the sperm whale, she wondered if that was a bad thing. The sea was a big, mysterious place with plenty they didn't know about. _Was it true they now knew more about outer space than the oceans?_ Museums always seemed to do this to her; she learned, and yet what she really learned was...how much she hadn't learned. And seeing it through the lens of the elves made it a little odder still.

The ocean unsettled Lorna for a number of reasons, and many of them had to do with reading too much H.P. Lovecraft while in prison. Sure, Cthulhu wasn't actually real, but on the other hand, _what if he was?_ Between that and the more mundane, extant creatures like anglerfish and those tiny jellyfish in Australia that put you in horrible pain for like a month...the ocean could keep its mysteries. Really. Though she did adore penguins (and had seen a rather charmingly hilarious documentary about them, narrated by Benedict Cumberbatch, who apparently couldn't actually pronounce the word 'penguin'; he called them 'peng-wings', and his pronunciation just got worse the longer the documentary went on. Someone at the BBC no doubt thought they were clever, handing him that one).

There was another film to see, this time about living in the Arctic. While Earlene felt less optimistic about this, it was still a chance for the elves to see something about places she genuinely hoped they would never wish to visit. Because New York and Irish winters were the worst she intended to deal with, ever. And since she was going to be beached walrus pregnant for the next one, she just might not see the outdoors until it was over.

Given that there was little actual underwater footage, Lorna actually enjoyed the film, and of course seals. Baby seals were the cutest fucking things in the world, and she wanted one. Hell, she wanted five, but alas, inland Ireland was not their favorite habitat. They did actually turn up seasonally on the Irish coasts, but that didn't mean stealing one would be a good idea. Alas.

Earlene realized there were two other things the ellyn would really like, or so she hoped. "Come, Thranduil, this next part is for you," she said. "Or at least, I think you of all people will appreciate what is here." Taking his hand, she led them to the Hall of Gems. Earlene had to wait a few moments, and she struggled to blank out her thoughts so it could be a surprise, but she was able to victoriously park him in front of the Star of India, the most famed sapphire in the world. _Something not in your vault_ , _my Lord_ , she teased. _Is in not beautiful?_

The elvenking's eyes flared because _by Eru, it was beautiful indeed_. He had sapphires, but not to compare with this. So large, and so perfect...exquisite to behold. And yet he looked at his wife, carrying his unborn children, and knew which was more precious. He turned and kissed her on the side of her head. "It is beautiful, meluieg. And it pleases me to see it where so many can admire it."

Lorna's eyes widened. "Holy shit, it's that thing," she said. "I'd forgot it was _here_. I hope it's under better bloody security now."

"Do I detect a story?" Earlene asked, curious.

"A weird one," Lorna laughed. "That thing got stolen in 1964. The security here was absolute shite - dead batteries in the alarms, and they actually left all the windows cracked for ventilation. These two gobshites basically just walked right in and took it, along with a load'v other jewels. One'v them called himself Murf the Surf." She let that sink in for a moment. "Anyway, they were gobshites who hadn't got an ounce'v subtlety between them - and maybe about four brain cells while they were at it. The super weird thing - one'v them - was that Murf the bloody Surf was actually violin prodigy, of all things. They got caught in pretty short order because they were living it up in some hotel room, tossing money around like it was nothing, and then their trial was a mess and a half. They made a movie about it in the 70's, and one'v the gobshites helped write it."

As badly as Earlene wanted to believe that Lorna somehow had this all wrong, it was just nutty enough that it was probably true. Shaking her head, she drifted over to look at the big emerald, hoping that that one was free from stories. "People've got no decency," she fumed. "They can't keep their sticky mitts off of what ought to belong to everyone." Greed annoyed her, deeply. Thranduil tilted his head, but elected to remain silent. Thanadir shook his head, and thought his King had quite enough gems as it was.

"Stealing something that big and recognizable, I don't know what they thought they were doing," Lorna said, shaking her head. "Anybody with half a brain knows you don't steal something you can't easily fence. If it'll get spotted as something stolen right off, there's not many that'd buy it from you." She spoke, unfortunately, as one with knowledge of just how that worked. And not all of it was learned from Shane.

The last things to see, unless they wished to stare longer at dinosaurs (which was never a bad thing) were the meteorites and the exhibit about forests; it seemed wrong to keep an elf from anything having to do with those. This was about the big trees that were in California, and their ages. Had elves seen Sequoia trees? Earlene shrugged. _Who knew what they'd seen…_

Jesus, these trees got bloody huge - while it was possible the ancient forests of Britain and Ireland had produced something this big, Lorna rather doubted it. She didn't know if sequoias even grew on their side of the Atlantic. Standing next to that quartered stump, she found it was wider than she was tall, and she snapped a few pictures of it before having Earlene take one of her standing beside it, for sheer scale purposes.

If Thanadir and Thranduil's astonishment at seeing the cross-sections and other specimens from this faraway forest were any indication, they had not ever beheld such trees. Her heart felt squeezed to see their looks of undisguised longing, and her lips parted. Could she take them to such a place, one day? California was further away, but...it was still possible to fly from Ireland to one of the big airports on the west coast on a nonstop flight...she thought? Earlene had been to San Francisco, once, but that had been for work and there was zero time on that trip for anything resembling sightseeing. The more she saw their hunger to learn, the more she wished to find ways to satisfy it, especially when it concerned matters that were close to their hearts. Maybe. Time would tell.

They enjoyed the meteors, such as they were, and then even Earlene was interested in the gift shop. Was it too early to think about dinosaur-related childrens' toys? She doubted it, and hell if any girl of hers was ever playing with a goddamn Barbie.

Lorna, who had neglected other gift shops to an unforgivable degree, had a field day in this one: her nieces and nephews all got astronomy-related things, just because they were pretty, and who didn't love a pretty, starry sky? She herself got a lamp that projected a constellation onto the walls and ceiling. Ratiri, though...she was a little shit, and got him two different kits. They were metal dinosaur skeletons, one a velociraptor and one a titanosaurus, both of which would stand between three and four feet high. Either he'd love it or he'd kill her, but she was pretty sure he'd love it. He didn't have any place to put either so long as he was staying with Doc Barry, but he did have rooms at the Halls.

Earlene chose three plush and allegedly baby safe toys; a triceratops, a duck-billed dinosaur, and a stegosaurus. They would probably be gummed to death...when did elflings teethe? She was really going to have to sit down with Thanadir one day and ask these things; the seneschal tended to give answers in a detailed format that her brain could absorb, whereas Thranduil tended to respond in summary form with broader descriptions. In the cab back to the hotel, Earlene looked at Lorna's gifts with some envy. She'd no room for any such thing, but they looked so _fun_ … yard-art worthy, even. Though, she could guess that elves would not think these were some kind of suitable excuse for garden gnomes, somehow. They arrived back at their room with the better part of four hours left, before tonight's party, and tomorrow relatively early, they needed to leave for the airport. Where had the damn time gone?

Lorna, footsore but pleased, took a quick shower when they got back to the room, using a little of that time to just relax before she had to hassle with her dress and hair. "So what can we expect at this party?" she asked, cracking her neck as she eyed the little makeup she'd brought. Mairead had taught her how to do eye makeup, though she rarely wore it. In this case, mascara, eyeliner, and some kind of dark gold eyeshadow, to match her dress and comb.

"Well, that's the strange thing about them. What's expected, near as I can tell, is to show up. It's like...it's like in Harry Potter, being in the Slug Club. You don't actually matter, but there you are, like an ornament or a status symbol to whoever is hosting the event. There is all the food and twice the liquor, word to the wise, it's easy to get smashed at these things if you're not careful. I know you can outdrink me by miles, but even you could fall off the rails. Expect that we will be in a home that cost about ninety million dollars; our host is one of the wealthiest in this City. It might not seem that way once you see it, let's just say he paid for a view similar to what we saw up in One World Trade Center.

Basically we seem to stand around, holding our drinks, now and again eating an hors d'oeuvre or a small plate of whatever-you'll find it's all finger food, there is no sitting down to a table. Servants will come around offering flutes of champagne and little dainty things to eat; you can stand in a corner all night and still go home stuffed. Sometimes I talk for a few minutes to everyone there, other times I spent the whole night with my escort. I should explain, too. I have a friend at the office, Tim, who might be there tonight. He's attractive, and gay, and that last part's top secret. He and I would always go to parties together, so much so that lots of people thought we were secretly a couple. We never bothered to inform them differently. I'm just putting that out there so that if we greet each other warmly, no one gets the wrong impression."

"Gay?" asked Thanadir, clearly struggling.

"He wants to have intimate relations only with other males," Earlene said. "He is not interested in women aside from friendship."

The seneschal nodded, sighing. He was looking forward to returning to the forest, where life was predictable. Earlene felt a little sorry for him, as she watched him rub his long fingers against her father's wedding ring as though it were a talisman to ward off evil. Which for him, she supposed it sort of was. Raising her eyebrows, she realized she might need to tell Tim that Thanadir was off-limits. Unfortunately, those two would make a devastatingly handsome pair. Feigning a need to use the bathroom, she excused herself...this was a train of thought that seriously needed derailing.

Lorna gave this due consideration, stretching her feet and cracking her ankles. "Rich people," she said, "are _weird_. I'll do my best not to get plastered or stepped on." Earlene's old boss was probably the only one who would be able to understand her, so at least she could avoid making chit-chat with anyone but him - and if she was anything like a decent person, she'd ward all the posh women away from poor Thanadir, since wedding ring or no wedding ring, she could see a few of them trying, and the poor lad had been through more than enough weirdness this trip already. She didn't want his brain breaking before they got home.

"Eh, you'll be fine. Sandgraust is more decent than you think. He worked his way up from nothing; he knows life from all sides. And while I'll grant that there are valid stereotypes, not all rich are the same just like not all poor are the same. There's arseholes in either bunch. And, all that said, I'm going to hog the shower for a bit."

Earlene grinned when it became plain that she _and_ Thranduil would be hogging the shower for a bit. _Oh well, what a shame._

Lorna's eyebrows went up. "Y'know, I think I'll go for a walk. Stop in at the bakery. Exactly how _long'v_ a walk does this need to be?" Yes, she was heinously squicked, but whatever. The bakery really did have good pastries, and she could shoot off an email to Ratiri while she was at it.

Earlene had no idea what Lorna was talking about, and looked at her, then Thranduil, then shrugged and took her clean t shirt and pants into the bathroom. Thranduil smiled. _Lorna, feel free to go for a walk if you wish to, but I think you are spending too much time imagining what is not occurring when Earlene and I are sharing the bathroom. That being said, if you go, I would not mind a spinach and cheese croissant; I did not eat much this morning, and perhaps Thanadir would like something as well?_ With a smirk, he too disappeared into the bathroom. He knew he was being awful, but it was equally true that on the last occasion, his diminutive friend had dutifully drowned out nothing whatsoever.

Lorna burst out laughing. _Even I know what two people usually get up to in the shower, she sent him_ , shaking her head and packing up her laptop. "Thanadir, d'you want anything from the bakery?"

The seneschal looked up from his laptop and smiled. "A bagel with cream cheese and lox please?" He had tried Earlene's and realized what he'd been missing.

"Can do," she said. "Tell those eejits they've got twenty minutes. If they're still in there when I get back, I'm going to sit outside the door and make cat noises." Shouldering her laptop bag, she headed outward, shaking her head again. She couldn't like - it rather made her think about just how the hell things would actually work if she and Ratiri ever got to that point. Given their height difference, God only knew.

Despite the complete hypocrisy of everything he was about to do, given his earlier reproof of his wife, his brain was practically afire with the opportunity Lorna had just provided. Feeling very much like indulging himself all the way around now, he entered the shower where Earlene was scrubbing at her hair with shampoo, eyes closed to keep the suds out. The moment his hands were on her, she gasped. He hadn't done this in a long time, this...psychic arousal, that he could do, but he was using it on her full force now. "Shhhh," he said, as he supported her from behind so that she did not stumble. Within seconds, he was giving her an experience that ranked right up there with what would forever stand out in her memory as the Breakfast Sandwich Moment. It took all her effort to remain quiet, but he made it very worth her while, in spite of the fact that she could only wheeze at the moment when she most wanted to scream in her enjoyment. As he held her, breathless, she managed a whisper. "You're going to be the death of me, but at least I'll enjoy myself on the way out." He did not seem to hear her, as his body went rigid and she felt him reach his own satisfaction. _Where in hell had this come from?_ She wondered, still unable to open her eyes for the soap everywhere. With a chuckle, he carefully helped rinse the offending suds away as he easily lifted her to trade places.

 _We must make haste, meluieg. I wish to do something._

 _I thought you just did make haste._

Openly laughing, he took the bottle of shampoo and lathered his own hair while she worked the conditioner into hers. Still not understanding why, she did hurry as he'd asked, and completed her ablutions. _Dress, quickly._

 _What on earth..?_

 _Trust me._

Sighing, she hurriedly yanked on her clothing and finger combed her damp hair, when she'd rather be applying moisturizer and foundation, but, he was King. To her complete incomprehension, he left the water running in the shower, and practically yanked her out of their room and down the hallway after he'd climbed into shorts and a tee of his own. _Do you have any intention of telling me what this is about?_ she asked him silently.

 _I ask your indulgence. I am teaching Lorna a mild lesson. It seems that she believes that any moment I seek to be alone with you, I am having carnal relations with you. I wish to make a point._

 _But you just were having carnal relations with me._

 _Meluieg…_

 _Very well, my Lord_ , she said, now highly amused. _These two_ …. Not five minutes later, an unearthly sound came from down the hall. It sounded like a cat in heat and... _oh god no_ , Earlene thought. _It can't be…_

This was allowed to go on for exactly ninety seconds (she knew because she was counting) at which point she heard, _now meluieg, we will return to the room. You first._

Earlene looked at him like he'd just gotten off the ship from Pluto, but she did as he asked, and had to knock on the door because duh, they'd left their key cards. Lorna answered the door, and the look on her face was admittedly priceless when she saw Earlene looking at her quizzically (because there was no doubt whatsoever left as to the origin of the caterwauling), passing her as she returned to her suitcase. Thranduil, shaking with laughter, followed her in just before the door latch could click shut.

Lorna eyed the still-closed bathroom door, and the two of them. "You, Mister, are King'v the bloody Gobshites. I don't supposed you told Earlene why you'd dragged her out into the hallway, did you?" Without waiting for an answer - because let's face it, she already knew - she said, "I warned him that if you two weren't out'v the bathroom in twenty minutes, I'd go sit by the door and make cat noises." She was having sudden, very vivid fantasies about duct tape and Thranduil's eyebrows. Alas, there was literally no way to ever pull that off in reality, but a girl could dream. "It'd better not be all steamy in there. Us ladies need makeup, at least tonight." The glower she leveled at Thranduil would have been a lot more menacing if she hadn't been fighting laughter herself.

"I'm actually counting on it being steamy, because no, he didn't tell me, and now I've got to try to get moisturizer into dry skin," Earlene grumbled. "Excuse me please, I have firieth things to do." She felt she marginally owed it to Lorna to at least pretend to be aggravated, even though she'd gotten a laugh and an amazing orgasm out of the whole thing. Probably she ought to thank her but...no. But she did shut off the damn tap, when she entered the steam room.

Thanadir, in the meantime, had his eyebrows still hovering near his hairline at hearing what his King had just been called by Lorna, and no small indignation was mounting at this perceived effrontery. Fortunately, Thranduil noticed this in time.

"Havo dad, i hadron nîn. Pân vae." (Sit down, my faithful one. All is well.) Thanadir cast his eyes down, and seated himself. He did not fully understand or approve of how Lorna chose to express herself some of the time, but this was not for him to say. It was likely for the best that he returned to his reading, so with a sigh he did so.

Lorna shook her head. "You are so lucky I like you," she said, before dissolving into laughter herself. With Earlene in the bathroom, she took her makeup to the big mirror beside the door, holding her fringe out of her face with a comb while she did as Mairead had taught her. It was just as well Mairead _had_ taught her, or she'd make an utter hash of this.

The bathroom door burst open. "Can someone who is more inventive than I am make this damn door stay open? Else the steam in here is never going to clear." She was far beyond needing moist air, and if the hotel hair dryer was going to have a prayer of working, something had to give.

Thranduil, interested in keeping the peace now, left Thanadir happily munching his pastry while he put his own down. The door had a device on it that caused it to shut automatically, and with the ability truly tall people seemed to have, he managed to wedge it open.

The bathroom was occupied, and Lorna couldn't do her hair until she'd got her dress on, so she stepped into the closet - tiny as it was - and wriggled her way into it. Lacing up the back by herself was a neat trick, and she'd probably have to have someone fix it for her later. Brushing her hair took a while, but she wanted to get the kinks out from her braid - something that wouldn't have been possible before she'd started using the elf shampoo. Coiling the top half into a bun, she carefully secured it in place with the comb.

She would do, she thought. She wasn't the one everybody would be looking at - she'd happily cede that position to Earlene. The dress was lovely, and the comb, and she'd actually managed the shimmery eyeshadow without overdoing it or getting it all over her cheeks.

Earlene now marched out, having done battle with hair and makeup. The funny thing to her was, before, it was always "party-wear" for her to leave her hair down, since at the office it was always worn pinned up, no exceptions. Never mind that now, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd styled it that way since going to Ireland. No one from here was the wiser. She stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of Lorna. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful." Marching straight off to get her phone, she insisted on a photo of the three of them, since apparently everyone was dressed but her. And just to be awful, she sent it to Ratiri with a message that said one thing: ";-)"

Lorna came as close to blushing as she actually could, smoothing down the velvet that was already totally smooth. She felt like a bit of an eejit, but she also wasn't used to wearing anything this nice. Being a Thanadir creation, it fit perfectly; there was none of the problem she had with ordinary clothes, where even garments supposedly made for someone her size bagged in weird places. Her sandals she kept, however; the dress was long enough that they wouldn't be obvious, and anybody who was likely to notice them would be a weirdo who stared at feet.

Knowing Lorna would probably prefer not seeing her girls on display, Earlene returned to the now cleared bathroom with her own gown, yanking the door shut behind her. Thanadir's designs never seemed to require a separate bra, and this was no exception. She was a little curious...he'd had her try it on for final fittings, but had not allowed her to see herself in it; something facilitated easily by the relatively few mirrors on hand in the rooms. But she could see it now, and her lips parted. Her breasts were...how did he _do_ that? If any more cleavage showed, she would have considered the garment to be tacky. As it was, it was still completely tasteful, yet left her looking stunning and desirable. _Thank god I'm not coming back anytime soon_ ; she was not sure she wanted the office to remember her this way, but, as neither John nor Tim would think worse of her, who cared? Besides, it was obvious that this had been created to please one pair of eyes alone. And that was fine; she and Thanadir had their priorities aligned in this, apparently. Though she still found it incredibly odd that an unwed ellon could comprehend breasts as well as he seemed to. _Best to not think about it_ , she reasoned. The dress was otherwise ethereal. Because she knew the difference, there were clearly elven elements to the design, but it did not scream "weird" or "out of place." Far from it; it was extremely fashionable. The last thing to choose now was lip color; she carefully applied a stain in a color that flattered the gown. There was no need of further jewelry with her necklace on display; she took one last moment to admire the glittering gems in the mirror before wiggling her feet into the matching leather slippers Thanadir had also made and exiting the room.

Thranduil leaned against the wall across from this door, eagerly awaiting his surprise. When Earlene emerged, he was not disappointed. Without taking his eyes off his wife, he reached around Thanadir's shoulders to briefly hug the elf to him. "Len hannon, Thanadir," he whispered. Admiring her for a few moments longer while she blushed under his stare, he reached into his pocket. "I have something for each of you to wear. Because I know that both of you cannot stand it, consider these on loan for the evening, so that you do not have to waste brain cells pondering jewels." He turned to Lorna, and fastened a lovely ruby and pearl choker around her neck. And on his wife, he fastened a stunning garnet bracelet. Stepping back, he looked at both of them, feeling very pleased with what he saw. "You both look exquisite. I am only sorry that Ratiri is not here to appreciate this."

"Whisht, you," Lorna said awkwardly, but inordinately pleased. She touched the necklace, and rather wished Ratiri was here, too. She wouldn't feel quite so out-of-place if he were. (Though she had to remind herself, as she noted the rather fantastic things Earlene's dress did for her cleavage, that at her own height and build, tits would just look weird. She couldn't carry them off right.) Earlene might think she looked like 'a damn lawyer', but right now, there was something very elf-like about her. "All right, now Thanadir, I know you don't like lying, but if people notice your wedding ring - and you might have to point it out, if someone gets pushy - like as not they're going to ask about your wife. Just tell them she's back home in Ireland and hope they don't ask for details. I'll stick with you, since Christ knows we're both in over our heads here."

Thanadir reflected on how, or if, to respond to Lorna, who did not seem to comprehend his aversion to untruths or his ability to manage for himself. How did you penetrate the reasoning of someone who should be able to understand that if you could kill a stranger at need, you could manage being propositioned? He sighed. "Thank you Lorna; I am sure I will be fine. I do not believe this will be that sort of party. Or, let us hope so."

Lorna gave him a half-smile. "I worry about the people I care about, Thanadir," she said. "It's what I do. Ask Thranduil. I know it drives him up the wall sometimes, but I can't help it. The fact that you can handle yourself through weird shite doesn't mean I want you to have to do it alone."

The old elf laid his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently, with a smile. He did not always comprehend Lorna, and then some, but she appeared to have a good heart.

Earlene pocketed some cash for cab fare, her identification and key card, her lipstick and her phone, all of which could be secreted in cleverly hidden pockets throughout the garment.

"Well, here goes nothing," said Earlene brightly, gesturing them out the door.


	38. Chapter 38

The second they stepped out of the elevator to round the corner and enter the lobby, heads snapped around at the sight of them. Earlene had called down to the concierge while they were getting ready, to have a cab waiting; this was not a time they were going to muck around standing on the sidewalk. She approached him regally, discreetly offering him a tip while his eyes widened at the sight of her obviously very real jewels. "Right this way, ma'am," he breathed, pocketing the money and very formally gesturing for them to follow him. "Your destination?" he politely inquired.

"One57", she replied, reminding herself to keep a straight face at the not so slight way in which the man's eyes bulged.

"Of course."

He held the cab doors for the women as they entered the back seat with Thanadir, and then for the King as he took the front. While Earlene had experienced hundreds of cabbies in her time, she noticed right away a certain elegance of deportment with this driver, and was pleased. The concierge clearly knew his business. In a way this was a bit silly; their destination was easy, easy walking distance, but one did not walk the streets of New York City flashing this kind of jewelry, no matter how short the journey.

At the lobby, they were greeted by the doorman. "We are guests of Mr. Sandgraust. Earlene Sullivan and party," she informed. With extreme deference, they were ushered toward the private elevators, and sent to the 89th floor.

Jesus, wasn't this posh, and yet even out here, it seemed...sterile. Cold. Nothing like the elves' Halls, which managed to be even posher while having some _life_ to them. Lorna tried not to walk like an awkward idiot, doing her best to mimic Earlene's confident stride - problem was, Earlene was about nine inches taller, so Lorna gave up before she could trip over her own dress. She didn't have any handbag but the satchel, but the dress had a few pockets she'd managed to stick a few things into, including her mobile. Tacky it might be, but Ratiri would be wanting a few pictures, and she'd be happy to give him some, if only to illustrate how weird rich people were.

A knock on the door was answered promptly by a grinning man in his early sixties who looked as though he were already relaxed and happy. "Earlene!" he said. "I just won a bet with John Oehlert, because I knew it was you."

"And how was that, Michael?" she laughed, reaching up to peck him on the cheek in a more European style of greeting.

"My watch. It is _exactly_ seven o'clock. He didn't believe me, of all people."

Earlene grinned. "Well, I _do_ have a reputation, don't I?" she quipped, shaking her head. _That_ level of precision was accidental, but sadly was just like her. Michael Sandergraust then stepped back a moment.

"I am told that a very lucky man has won your affections, Earlene?" he said kindly.

"It's all true," she smiled. "And I thank you for having all of us. Michael, this is my family, from Ireland. Fionn, my husband. Cian, his brother, and our very dear friend Lorna. You caught us just in time; it's our last night here in the City."

The ellyn's hands were shaken, and Lorna's hand was carefully and lightly kissed in an extremely respectful manner. "Friends of Earlene's are friends of mine," he said. "You've stolen away one of New York's brightest, but I can't fault you. I give you all my best wishes for your happiness and your future. And listen to me, when there are drinks and food waiting. Come in, please, and make yourselves at home. You'll find old Oehlert hiding out on the north side, you know how he loves to ogle the Park." He winked charmingly, before turning his attention to the next ring of the doorbell.

"Well, drinks and food are all in the same place, shall we?" Earlene gestured into the next room.

"Please," Lorna said. She'd been badly startled by that kiss on the hand, mostly because it was so unexpected. The place remained oddly sterile, though there was a bit more personality than in the hallway. The windows were gigantic - the heating bill for this place in winter must be a royal bitch, and she'd personally always be worried about someone spying in with binoculars or something. The recessed lighting in the bar was a nice touch - and Christ, was she glad there _was_ a bar, even if it seemed a weird thing to have in a flat - and the floor, the counters, the cabinets, they were all so very shiny. It would either be a joy or an utter nightmare to navigate in socks, depending on your level of agility.

There was a lad at the bar, young, pleasantly attractive a cookie-cutter sort of way. While she wasn't certain if something so plebian would be served in such a swanky setting, she asked for a rum and Coke - and was impressed that she only got a momentary blank stare, before the lad lined up the syllables and figured out what she'd said. "Cheers, mate," she said, toasting him and doing her level best not to knock the whole thing back at one go.

The trouble with the entire setup, she soon realized, was that it had all seemed to have been designed for someone taller than average, so much taller than her. Sitting on something without her feet dangling probably wouldn't be possible, but oh well. "There's so much space," she said. "You'd not find a flat like this in Ireland, and probably not in England, either."

"This is a unique situation," Earlene said. She didn't think she'd mention that at its sale, it broke all cost records for a place in the City. "It would not be my choice for a home, but the views are amazing. I want the woods, which I suppose is why I left for Ireland."

Once they'd admired a few of the rooms, and the traveling trays of h'ors d'oevres had passed Thanadir enough times that she thought the edge might be taken off his appetite, she suggested seeking out John, who was known for his habit of settling in an attractive corner with a good bottle of Scotch. Earlene knew Thanadir would be popular as the evening wore on; sooner or later the wait staff ran out of their ability to tempt the guests with their tidbits, and had to spend longer and longer getting each tray emptied. And then, she bet, each one of them would realize he was still willing to take food, and keep returning. This could end up worse than with the Nonna, but for now she'd keep her peace.

"I'd be afraid'v some creep trying to look in my windows at night," Lorna said. She wasn't going to go too close to the windows herself, because the view really _was_ amazing, and also very, very high off the ground.

She cadged some nibbles as they went - she had no idea what any of them were, but they were tasty, and she needed a bit more in her stomach before she drank _too_ much. This wasn't bad so far, but there also wasn't really anyone here just yet. What it would be like when she was surrounded by the American equivalent of nobs remained to be seen.

"I thought I'd find you here or at the other corner, John," she teased. "And I'm sorry to hear I lost you a bet. Don't suppose you'd believe that my punctuality was purely coincidental?" she teased.

"I would not," he said, rising to shake all their hands, "but I should have known better than to take that bet. On the other hand, it keeps Sandgraust happy and a happy client…"

"...is a paying client," they both said softly in stereo, laughing.

"Tim might be by, later," John said while looking at Earlene. He was looking forward to one last party hurrah, but I took the liberty of breaking his heart for you. It didn't seem fair to withhold your good news," he said mischievously, seeing that Lorna's glass was lamentably empty. "Don't suppose you'd like to help me damage this bottle?" he said, eyeing Lorna. "Sandberger pressed into my hand when I got here." The label declared that it was _Ardbeg Special Release Double Barrel 33 Year Old Single Malt Scotch Whisky, Islay._

Earlene's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, but she said nothing. Or rather, she did say aloud, "I think you'd like it, Lorna. Not to mention, when John gets going he likes to talk about his gran." She smiled when Lorna held out her glass, looking only slightly suspicious.

Well, this evening was certainly looking up. Lorna gave the whiskey a sniff before sipping it, and just about melted. "Bloody Christ, this is heaven," she said, and then nearly cringed. "I mean, it's grand. I've never had Scotch this good, ever, and back home my mate Jamie's got a good selection. He runs the pub I used to work at." This was actually something worth savoring, and she didn't say that often. "You'd find some who'd sell you their firstborn for that, back home." She was only half kidding, too. Scotch that fine and, well, alcoholism was called the Irish Virus for a reason. There were plenty who would go to some surprisingly extreme lengths to get their hands on alcohol of this quality.

John grinned from ear to ear. "You have no idea how good it is to find someone who can appreciate a real drink. My gran adored Scotch. Every year I'd give a good bottle for her birthday, and every year she'd see it, glare up at me, open the bottle, swig it, and then replace the cap before she'd smile and thank me. Bless her soul…" he smiled, shaking his head at the memory.

"I'm going to pop back to the bar and find something for myself, can I bring anything for anyone?" she asked, lacing her fingers into Thranduil's. Thanadir seemed content, having been bestowed with a Long Island Iced Tea. Not too frou-frou, but sweet, and with enough alcohol in it that the elf might actually notice he was drinking sooner or later. On their way out of the room, she flagged the attention of one of the wait staff and pointed out Thanadir as someone he might wish to keep in a steady stream of tidbits. Feeling like her duty was done for the moment, she made her way to the bar to ask for sparkling water and lime.

 _Meluieg, you can drink if you wish,_ Thranduil said.

 _I thank you, but there is no need. I am just as well off with this. Are you content to be here, so far?_

 _Yes. Our host seems genial and was perhaps not what I expected. For one so wealthy, he seems irreproachable enough. I think I expected that an extremely wealthy mortal would be somehow...reprehensible, on some level._

 _I am trying to get Lorna to understand, wealth is not an indicator of character. There are reprehensible ones, to be certain. Perhaps a few of them will even be here tonight; you of all will see and know them. Michael has always been someone for whom I had regard._

 _Why did you react so strongly to the drink John offered Lorna, if I may ask?_

 _Of course you may; you are my Lord. It is because that bottle of liquor cost probably what we pay her in a month. It is very expensive. I doubt she knows the value of it and I have no intention of telling her. Can I get you anything more to drink?_

 _No, but I would like to try more of the food._

 _That makes two of us._

She procured small plates for them to fill, and they helped themselves to the elaborate and dainty foods on the trays in front of them. It was short work to enjoy these, after which Earlene thought she would show him some more of the rooms while they wound their way back to their group.

Lorna, meanwhile, just laughed, trying to sit without spilling her drink and barely succeeding. These chairs really were too big for her, but oh well. "Your gran sounds like my gran," she said to John, sipping her Scotch. "But I think all Irish grans are basically variatons'v the same woman. Tough as shoe-leather, no verbal filter, appreciation for fine booze, and all. My Gran told me she pinched Bono's arse in the 80's, and I'd believe it. It's the kind'v thing she'd've done." All right, John she liked, but she'd already got a good impression of him at Earlene's office, so she wasn't surprised. And she couldn't imagine Earlene being willing to work for an arsehole, no matter how good the pay was. "Where'd your gran come from?" She couldn't recall if he'd said or not, they'd met so briefly.

John leaned back. "You asked before, and I told you County Cork. But now that we're genuinely talking, the real answer is Skibbereen. Heard'v it?" The alcohol was relaxing his voice a little, and the barest hints of a brogue that he usually carefully suppressed started to manifest.

"Skibbereen?" Lorna asked, holding out her glass for a refill. "There's a song about it, back home. Tragic folk song, like so many are. Was it the Famine that drove your family out?" It had, she knew, hit Skibbereen especially hard - not that it went easy on anyone.

"It was stranger than that," he said. "Gran came in the early 1930s, poorer than poor, with her mam. She was only a little girl, but had plenty of memories of how godawful it was on the ship, and how godawful it was still once they got here to the City. They lived in Hell's Kitchen, barely getting by. But their family before them, that was the worst of it. Plenty of them died in the years of hunger, but mam's ancestors, as the family stories'v come down, went inland. For work. We really don't know who went where or who survived what; we only know someone did, else there would never have eventually been gran. In the mid 1920's gran's parents went back to Skibbereen, because apparently the first time around for the family wasn't bad enough. You know how it is, home calls. But in the end they emigrated; they had to. Gran eventually married and gave birth to my father; he was the one who near worked himself to death turning a few turnips and nothing into a successful restaurant. It was him that made sure I had the education and the opportunity I never had. Earlene and I have talked about it a great deal, how lucky we both are. Our grandparents had nothing but dirt under their fingernails, and two generations later, the likes of us got to stand on their shoulders. I never forget it. It'd be wrong." He broke off abruptly, shaking his head at how things turned out for some and not others.

Thanadir listened, fascinated. He knew nothing of Earlene's mortal family, save seeing her brother at a distance. Stories like this were yet new, in his mind. He also felt badly, because he was beginning to put together that not so long ago, those outside their Halls had suffered greatly from lack of food. They elves had been oblivious to this, as far as he knew.

"Home does call," Lorna said, sipping - she wasn't used to sipping, but that was just what you did with liquor this fine. "Christ do I know that. It was a bloody crime anyone had to leave, and even yet we've not forgiven the English for it. I'm pretty sure my great-great gran killed the tax man, actually, though Gran would never actually confirm it, or maybe I'd've been born here, too. Family...sometimes we get lucky, and they're the ones that'v suffered for us." Not in her case, but then again, it was partly yes; Mairead and Gran had certainly given all they could, when they brought her home from hospital, for all she was a literal stranger to them. "We're tough, us Irish, and if we don't take care'v our own, we're daft, drunk or dead, as my Gran used to say."

Earlene took Thranduil through a room with an indoor pool, which he confessed gave him ideas. Though his own, smaller pool was in so many ways more lovely and more functional; and yet this was for swimming and not for bathing. It fascinated him to see that for all the wealth needed to own this home, his own was far more beautiful, far richer in appointments, and needless to say more solidly constructed, but that was an unavoidable difference between a cavern and a skyscraper. The sun was setting, and in the twilight the city lights were coming on; here was a new view by which to appreciate them. Earlene pointed out the Chrysler building, so striking at night, and a few of the other landmarks that took on a different appearance when day turned to night. She could not resist stealing a kiss when they were alone; he was so attractive to her, in these lovely clothes, that it was genuinely difficult to control herself. There was little doubt in her mind what she'd do with access to a lockable bedroom, however socially unacceptable this would be. She made an effort to get her thoughts under control; she did not need to add soaking wet underwear to her list of distractions at this party.

Thranduil leaned down to nip at her ear. _We will be home, soon, and I promise you I will make up for our lack of private time in a suitable manner_. He did not tell her that her chest was flushing enticingly with her arousal, and elected to take pity on her. _I will help you. I have created this monster, and it is not right that I leave you feeling this way at an occasion where we cannot join together._

His arm came around her, and she felt her lust ebbing away. _Good grief, you can do that too?_

He chuckled. _I love you, sweet one. Let us return to Lorna and Thanadir._

 _Probably a good idea_ , she thought ruefully. _And, thank you._ In moments they had returned, just in time for the waiter to offer more tidbits and champagne flutes. This time, Earlene did accept a drink; she liked champagne. They joined the conversation and soon found themselves engrossed in all things Irish and Ireland. The drinks and food kept coming on a regular schedule, and not a few toasts to Erin were proposed. It was a moment of triumph when even Thanadir began to refuse food. A tastefully restrained cheer went up when John and Lorna killed the bottle of Scotch, and Earlene insisted on taking a commemorative photo of them with the bottle. A few other guests popped in from time to time, a few of whom Earlene knew and greeted, but once it was obvious that the conversation in this room was not shifting from the Emerald Isle, they would leave just as quickly.

It was just as well that Thranduil and Earlene had returned, because Lorna was, in spite of the rather heroic amount of Scotch she'd consumed, feeling quite awkward.

Others had drifted over to talk to John - others who looked at her and Thanadir quite curiously. He, however, blended in rather better, even with his long hair and the fact that he was rather more attractive than most of the men here, and he fielded questions with a serenity she envied.

"What is it you do for Earlene?" one woman asked - she'd given her name as Susan. She was tall and blonde and willowy, in a long, dark blue gown that probably cost more than Lorna's car, her teeth blindingly white. (What was _with_ Americans and such white teeth? In Ireland, you were likely only going to find that shade on a pensioner's dentures.)

"I'm her P.A.," Lorna said, speaking carefully and slowly. "I take care'v all the Irish business for her, since it can be difficult to navigate for a foreigner. It's more different than you'd think." And it wasn't even a lie, so Thanadir couldn't glower at her for it.

To Susan's credit, she only blanked out for a moment before she lined up all the syllables. "How did you come into her employ?"

"Now this I have to hear," a man said. Lorna hadn't caught his name, but part of her instinctively disliked him, mainly because he seemed rather smug. And he, too, had frighteningly white teeth, in addition to what was obviously a spray-tan (though at least a high-quality one, that didn't leave him orange).

"I was out at her house one day when she'd got a delivery'v groceries. Gobshite driver tried to cheat her out'v two bottles'v whiskey, so I lit into him and dug through his van 'til I'd found them. She figured an Irish person could better deal with the Irish than an American could, and she's not exactly wrong." Again, broadly true. Lying was a lot easier when you were lying by omission.

That elicited blank stares all around, until John, laughing, translated. Thank God he was here - Thanadir could translate too, of course, but John was well-known among this lot. What he said would carry more weight.

"If it makes you feel better," Lorna said, "even other Irish people can have a hard time understanding me. Surprisingly, Earlene's never had an issue with it."

"Are you Earlene's brother-in-law, sir?" Susan asked Thanadir.

Lorna had to resist her immediate impulse to jump to his aid. He could handle this, but he so hated lying...on the other hand, saying he was Thranduil's brother was an agreed-upon lie, rather like his wedding-ring. Fortunately, Susan had one as well, so Lorna probably didn't need to worry he was about to get hit on.

The seneschal looked into the woman's eyes with a relaxed smile. "Yes and no. I have ever lived with Fionn's family, and we call each other 'brother'. Though as you might guess from our appearance, we are not related by blood."

What the hell, Thanadir? Oh well. Deviating from the script was fine so long as everyone stayed on the same page. Unfortunately, in deviating, he had just dug himself into a hole. "How long have your families known one another?" Susan asked.

"Were you orphaned?" the smug man added. "Whatever the reason, it was good of Fionn - that's his name, right? - Fionn's family. I've heard the Irish take care of their own."

Thranduil was smiling. For reasons he could guess at, Thanadir had changed their agreed-upon story, slightly, and now had himself in a slight….pickle, as the mortals would say.

Lorna fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. In altering their cover story he'd opened himself up for this, and for once she was going to let him reap the consequences. They'd spun their story as it was for a reason, as he was finding out, and as he would no doubt continue finding out. _Thranduil, please rescue him before this whole interaction turns into an utter hash_ , she said, pained.

 _He got himself into this, Lorna. Do not worry. Thanadir has not been my seneschal for all these long years for no reason. However he chooses to answer, this will be a lesson of sorts, for him._

 _That it will be_ , Lorna thought, a touch sourly.

"Our families are old ones," Thanadir answered more carefully, realizing that the ice under his feet had grown thin. He had a certain sense of dismay; he should not have created a variation on what they had agreed they would say. He had only managed to give these mortals fodder for curiosity by saying more than he needed to. He looked up briefly into the bright and amused eyes of his sovereign, and issued a silent plea for forgiveness. The barely perceptible nod he received in return let him know that he had not offended, but would now need to undo his mistake. Only one opinion in this room mattered at all to him; he could now speak without further hindrance. "There have been many generations." The demeanor behind his features now shifted to one that began to alarm Earlene, because she knew it well and would do a great deal to let it lie sleeping. In just a matter of seconds, the angelic cherub moved aside to a face that spoke of potential menace, and the tone of his voice deepened as his eyes locked with that of the smug man in open challenge. "You will excuse me, if I do not wish to speak of the circumstances of our families beyond what I have already said. It is not a fitting subject, especially in such gracious company. May I ask a similar question of you? So many here seem to have stories of family having come from other places. What of your own history?" The evasion was a disappointment to those listening, who had hoped for juicier fare from these relatively exotic strangers. Yet, not a one present missed the clear rebuff from the young man, who apparently was not such a pushover after all. Though as his words concluded, his features relaxed back into their usual charming appearance.

"I could do with another drink," Lorna said, making her way through the crowd. Jesus, how many people were here? More than she'd expected, and possibly more than she was aware of, given the flat had two floors. Freaking out the other party guests might not end well, either, and when Thanadir got like that, it was so damn jarring compared to his boyish appearance. Oh well. Not her problem.

What _was_ her problem was the fact that literally everyone here was at least five inches taller than she was, but at least nobody accidentally elbowed her or anything. She needed the bar, and then she needed the loo.

Unfortunately for Thanadir, he'd attracted yet more of an audience, and at least one of its members was highly attracted to _him_. She was far too well-mannered to actually say so, but had no such mental restriction, and freely admired him rather lasciviously. Marie, her name was, who had recently turned forty-one and was rather depressed about it. This lovely young man was quite decorative, however, and his image would be quite a visual deposit in her spank bank.

The Elvenking's eyes flared slightly, and he felt vaguely relieved that his seneschal missed so much of what transpired around him. Though, these mortals were affecting him slightly, because he found himself wondering something he'd never wondered before. _Were_ _Thanadir to wed, just what sort of proclivities might he have?_ Glancing up at the city skyline, he chastised himself for even considering such a thing. His own ability to indulge once again in lust was clearly addling his reasoning.

"Earlene, I didn't realize you'd be coming with guests," Marie said, eying both Thanadir and Thranduil with outward decorum, her gaze lingering only a _little_ too long. She was trying not to be visibly disappointed when she spotted the wedding-ring on Thanadir's finger.

"I wanted to come back and tie up loose ends here, and my new family has never been. It hardly seemed fair to miss the chance to show them around. And to be honest, I've managed to get myself over to see a few attractions I'd never seen, like Ellis Island or going up in the Statue of Liberty. I'll admit it's been fun, playing tourist." Earlene's eyes narrowed, but only slightly, as she possessively took Thranduil's hand into her lap. Marie was well known for being a fair, if far more discreet, imitation of Samantha from _Sex in the City_. There was little doubt what was going through her mind just now about either of the ellyn. Not that she could blame her for that, but no one was going to make eyes, however subtle, at her husband unchallenged.

"Of course," Marie said, sipping at her champagne. Unfortunately for all, while _she_ was decorous about her admiration, they drew in another who was...less so. Iris Haverford, the much younger wife of one of John's golfing friends. Beautiful, blonde, a notorious flirt - and both she _and_ her husband were equally notorious for cheating on one another with regularity. Which wasn't to say they were the only ones, but the other cheaters in that social set at least tried to be discreet about it.

Marie fought the urge to tread on her foot. She was quite enjoying the view here, and if Iris was...herself...Earlene would undoubtedly take it elsewhere. As it was, she rolled her eyes at the woman's blatant appraisal of Earlene's two guests. Really, there were _standards_. Yes, both of those men were gorgeous beyond all fairness, but looking at them like slabs of meat was just...crass.

"Earlene -" Oh, lovely, Iris was already drunk "-where did you find _these_ two?"

"They're her new family," Marie said pointedly. There was no actual restraining Iris, but one had to try. Yes, she herself would later shamelessly use her toy collection while thinking of this lovely young man, but that didn't mean she was going to be gauche enough to let him _know_ that.

Thranduil slipped his arm around his wife possessively but with an amused expression. "I am Earlene's husband, Fionn. It is nice to meet you," he said, though he did not extend his hand as he usually would have. In this case, it would only be adding some oil to the flames. "This is my brother Cian." Thanadir gave a brief nod of his head, but his features were once again clouding over at what even he could see of the lust painted on this woman's face. It was astonishingly _unseemly_. He expected better, of those with so much wealth and alleged status. Though _why_ , exactly, he could not say.

Marie had done her best to mask her disappointment at spotting Cian's wedding-ring, but Iris didn't even try. She really _was_ drunk. "Where's Andrew?" Marie asked, even more pointedly. "He must be wondering where you are, and I think you could use a bit more to _eat_ , Iris." The woman had probably consumed all of four hors' d'oeuvres before breaking into the vodka.

"Oh, who knows?" Iris said, still eying Fionn with such disgustingly open disappointment. "Off drinking."

"Maybe you should be off drinking _with_ him," Marie said, yet more pointedly still. If she was forced to march Iris out of here - if she was forced to give up such pretty eye-candy early - the younger woman was going to find herself very, very unhappy when she sobered up.

Lorna, who had witnessed this entire exchange from a slight distance, rolled her eyes. Good _grief_...and she'd thought rich people were meant to be classy. This one had all the subtlety of Siobhan.

 _Lorna, the woman's husband is at the bar, where you just were. He had glasses, and a red necktie. He is older,_ she heard in her head.

 _Got it_ , she said back. Weaving her way through the crowd, she set her empty glass down, plucked the champagne flute out of Iris's hand, and said, quiet solemnly, "D'fhear céile atá ag lorg agat, tú shreel ré. A ligean ar a gheobhaidh tú ar ais sula ndéanann tú amadán níos mó de tú féin _agus_ é." _Your husband's looking for you, you bloody tramp. Let's get you back before you make a bigger fool of you and him._

By now, word of Earlene's odd little P.A. had spread - including the fact that the woman's accent was so heavy she was all but incomprehensible. Even Iris had enough standards to pretend she understood, though she hadn't caught a word. She did, however, eventually recognize the word 'Andrew', and somehow, found herself being led away by the hand, listening to a soft, soothing stream of nonsense.

"Sin é," Lorna said. "Tá mé cinnte go bhfuil do fear céile pósta tú ar chúis amháin nó eile, agus tá mé cinnte go leor go raibh sé do tits. Agus b'fhéidir do chuid fiacla. A ligean ar lámh tú ar ais chuige anois." _That's it. I'm sure your husband married you for one reason or another, and I'm pretty sure it was your tits. And maybe your teeth. Let's hand you back to him now._ The woman was surprisingly unresistant, and it wasn't difficult to dump her on a bar stool beside her husband. "You might want to keep her here," she told him, and hurried back to her little group.

The moment Lorna took custody of Iris, who John had always found to be generally distasteful (and more so after her second drink), a smile spread over his face. It was like a vision of his gran, come to life. He was only able to understand something about 'your husband' before the meaning was lost to him, but it was the most Irish he'd heard spoken in one place since her passing. Shaking with laughter at Lorna's take-charge attitude, he had to turn away to face the windows for a moment. However much he was enjoying this, it would be equally crass to be seen openly laughing at the amorous woman's comeuppance.

 _Well done, Lorna,_ said a very pleased Thranduil. He'd been tempted to do the same, but really, that would have been awkward on so many levels.

Earlene looked knowingly at Marie with a shrug and a smirk. "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Marie's own extremely subtle admiration of her husband was now completely forgiven, having been overshadowed by Iris' theatrical performance.

"Indeed they do," Marie sighed, taking a somewhat larger sip of her champagne than was necessary. "I wish my P.A. was that...forthright." _Pushy_ was not quite the right word, and yet at the same time, it was. She was fairly certain Iris wouldn't have stood a chance even if she hadn't been drunk. "I am afraid you haven't missed a great deal, since you've moved away."

Lorna, shaking her head, reappeared at the edge of the group. "Hopefully she'll stay put," she said. "If her husband's got any manner'v sense at all, anyway."

"Lorna isn't just a P.A.," said Earlene very clearly, looking from Lorna back to Marie. "That part is at best secondary. She's my friend. Our friend. And she is a friend _anyone_ would be lucky to have." There was something in Marie's tone that had far too much of an air of saying 'nice servant you've got there,' and Earlene would have none of it. Her own tone of voice was not angry or aggressive, but rather beyond matter-of-fact. "And while I do miss all of you...I was right to move. My heart is in Ireland, now."

"You'll make me blush in a minute," Lorna said, just a touch awkwardly. Outward displays of emotion while among strangers was something she still wasn't used to yet. "Meanwhile, I've got to go find the toilet."

Marie blinked, a bit startled. "Of course," she said. "It's a lovely place to live, and I'm sure they're lovely people." It was a bland inanity, but nevertheless appropriate. "And you really do seem lucky to have her."

These parties were dull, but Von Ratched attended them anyway. He had to keep an eye on his investments, but those investments had minds so tedious it was a chore more often than not.

Despite his height, he could be ignored when he wished - and he often wished, for he could only endure so much banal conversation. Money and power were the only preoccupations of many, and even those with nobler intentions lacked true intellect. They were cattle, with so little variation.

And then he saw _her_.

 _She_ did not belong here, and obviously so. Tiny, visibly uncomfortable (and a touch drunk), in a gown quite unlike the carefully stylish ones worn by the other women...who had brought her here, and why?

Her immediate thoughts were occupied with a need for the restroom, but he would waylay her a moment anyway. "You look lost," he said, when he reached her.

She twitched a little, turning to him, and froze.

Now _that_ was interesting. Von Ratched could not help but be a touch intimidating, but this tiny woman recognized him on sight for the true threat he was. She didn't know _what_ he was, but she knew he was dangerous. Sheer animal instinct knew a predator when she saw one, even if she were not truly cognizant why.

"Looking for the toilet," she said, in a very heavy Irish brogue. "Champagne'll go through you like that." Though she didn't look drunk, one touch of her mind told him she was. Quite a bit.

Lorna had expected a bunch of stiffs in suits, with hopefully a few bright spots like Earlene. So far the only real one she'd found was Earlene's old boss, John, who was such a good sort she wondered what the hell he was doing here. This guy, whoever he was, screamed 'threat' every bit as strongly as Thranduil, for all he was obviously human. As tall as Thranduil, probably around her age, a touch of grey in his blond hair, but his _eyes_ \- she'd thought Thranduil's eyes were creepy, but they had nothing on this guy's. They were so pale a grey they were nearly white, cold as glaciers.

"I believe it is this way," he said, with a smile that would probably have been charming if he hadn't been giving off blatant serial-killer vibes. Seriously, who the hell let him in here? She really didn't want to go anywhere with him, but she also really needed to pee, so her bladder made the decision for her.

"Forgive me, but you seem rather out of your depth," Von Ratched said, leading her down the hallway. She would not, he thought, pass a field sobriety test; it wasn't blatant, but she was weaving a bit. "Who roped you into coming here?"

"My boss," she said. He had to resist the temptation to touch that long, silky hair. The other women here used shampoos and products whose artificial stink quite put him off, but whatever she used was natural, infused with lavender. "We're not staying long."

"Lucky you," he said, for once not lying. "Can I at least tempt you into one more drink, before you go?" He infused the question with just the barest trace of compulsion - _after all, she wouldn't want to be rude, would she?_

"Just one," she said warily, once they reached the bathroom. "I'll meet you back out there." Why she agreed to that, she had no idea, but it seemed the thing to do. She'd promised she'd try not to embarrass Earlene, and telling off some creep in the middle of this swanky party would be sure to do just that.

"I don't think I caught your name," the man said, his gaze just a touch too intent. He'd actually be rather handsome, if he wasn't the creepiest thing that had ever creepied in the history of ever. As it was, even having him so close made her itch.

"Lorna," she said, and it was _all_ she said. "Be out in a minute."

 _Lorna_ he thought - a rather lovely name. A gentleman wouldn't lurk, so he didn't; instead he returned to the party, and collected two flutes of champagne. Such a pity it would likely be impossible to take her home with him; as it was, he would simply monopolize her time until her employer took her away, and left him again to his tedium.

Lorna was not at all pleased. She stayed in the bathroom rather longer than she needed to before heading back out into the main room, hoping she'd get lost in the crowd. At her height, it wouldn't be difficult. There was no tangible reason that man should freak her out as much as he did, but freak her out he did, which pissed her off. He was a suit; unless he was some kind of cop, she could probably break both his knees and run like buggery, and yet he unnerved her in a way nothing else ever had. It would have been impressive, if she hadn't been so skeeved.

"While I cannot say you blend in, you are nevertheless difficult to find."

Lorna twitched again, but nevertheless took the drink he offered, doing her best not to knock it back at one go. _Thranduil, help_ , she said. _I've got a creeper. Beam me up, Scotty._

That gave Von Ratched pause. She thought someone would actually hear her… Surreptitiously, he brushed the back of her hand, careful not to let her notice. Seeking her deeper thoughts was risky - mortal minds were so easily broken, and this was not the place to do so - but he wished deeper insight into hers.

Unfortunately, she was so unsettled by him, and her mind so clouded with alcohol, that it was difficult to find anything else. While he could not say he had ever been likened to a zombie before, she certainly thought he resembled one. Such a pity he could not prove her otherwise. He was somewhat shocked at how very much he wanted to.

"I've got friends this way," she said, pointing toward the corner they'd been lurking in much of the evening. She'd feel a hell of a lot better with backup.

The Elvenking heard her with amusement until he saw in her thoughts the one of whom she spoke, and frowned; he did not particularly like the look of this man. His eyes scanned for Lorna and at her entrance into the room, all seemed well enough, until he saw what followed. It could not be. It absolutely could not be. And yet every ounce of his memory and his powerful perceptions told him that it absolutely _was. How? And...just, how?_

From across the room, those pale white eyes locked to his own of sapphire blue, as each registered the other. Thranduil was not about to stand here and evaluate this. He held out his arm to Lorna but did not speak to her, earnestly hoping she would for once without question accept the silent invitation to physically come to him; it was critical that he be able to touch her. With a sigh of relief, she moved to stand next to him, and in that next second his arm came over her shoulder in more than just a gesture of affection; this was a blanket of protection to her mind. Earlene stood across the room, having broken away for a moment to admire the views. _We are leaving, immediately,_ Earlene, Lorna and Thanadir all heard in concert. _Earlene, return to my side. All of you, follow my lead_. He meant this in a more than physical sense, as he spoke aloud. "It has been a pleasure meeting you all, but we must regrettably depart. A pressing matter has come to my attention."

Earlene did not understand but was making her way to his side and did not hesitate to support him. "John, please give Michael my thanks and my regrets," she said, pecking him quickly on the cheek. "I hope you know you're always welcome, should you feel the need for a quiet vacation," she said quietly, so that only he could hear.

Thanadir, in the meantime received a very different message. _Balrog._

His lips parted at what his King showed in his mind, but understood immediately what was wanted. Thranduil would go first with the firith, quite literally in his arms. He was to follow just behind, a buffer against the worst possibility. Foremost a warrior, he returned only one thought: _Athon_.

Now _this..._ It was all Von Ratched could do to keep a feral smile from crossing his face. This was the last thing he ever would have expected, and yet the greatest find he had discovered in millennia. _Elda_ , he sent the elf, his gaze shifting from lovely little Lorna to the elf - _two_ elves. What were they doing here, now, after all this time? Disappointingly - yet intriguingly - as soon as the taller of the pair touched Lorna, Von Ratched had no more access to her thoughts. So this one was quite a _powerful_ elf to boot…

The other woman, though...even before she went to the taller elf, Von Ratched could not touch her thoughts, a thing which ought to have been impossible. His eyes narrowed, bending more of his will upon her, and yet still there was nothing. How? She was mortal, firieth; none of them had ever been able to resist him. Surely it could not be her own doing - one of the elves must have done it to her, or for her. Perhaps the powerful one was even more powerful than he had suspected - but then, why was Lorna not protected as well? It could not be innate magic, but perhaps something tied to an object the taller woman carried or wore.

As they moved out in what was almost a formation, both ellyn locked eyes with this stranger, and Thanadir now fully saw for himself what his King had seen. His face blazed with strength and fearlessness. Thranduil, for his part, returned two words as he moved past the creature, the mortal women held firmly in his protective grasp: _Elbereth Gilthoniel_. That this abomination of the ancient world still roamed free disgusted him. It had assumed a fair form, and doubtless had hidden power. But even the mightiest of these had fallen before the Children of Ilúvatar. This was a dangerous enemy, but not an undefeatable one. The call to Varda was meant to imply one thing, though even as he sent it he knew that it would likely prove fruitless: _Leave us alone_.

Earlene felt lost, not comprehending the reason for this abrupt departure. She walked in her husband's hold with her head held confidently, and could not help but notice the strange man with the oddest and coldest eyes she had ever seen. Her gaze revealed no fear but rather a mild contempt. Whoever he was, she would rather meet one of the reincarnations from the Natural History Museum's carnivore collection than _that_. _Who was he and what was he doing here?_ It wasn't Sandgraust's style to keep company with people who were disreputable.

Von Ratched could have followed them, but that was not how he worked. Direct confrontation was not his style, and in any event he had a position to maintain among the cattle. So he sipped his champagne, watching them retreat, smirking ever so slightly. He would find them, in due time; meanwhile, he had time to decide just what he wanted to do with them. Two lingering Eldar, a firieth who could block his mind, and another who was so oddly lovely he wanted to keep her in a cabinet, away from prying eyes.

Lorna, for her part, was just glad to be getting the hell out of there, away from Creepy McCreeperson - who had to be _really_ creepy, if Thranduil was willing to hustle them out so blatantly. She had many questions, but she wasn't about to ask any of them until they were safely away from this building. She still shuddered a bit at the way the bastard had been looking at her. Gross.

Down the elevator and out the lobby, no cab was now waiting. Realizing from Earlene how close they were to the hotel, he made an easy decision. They would walk, unseen. And so it was that they wove their way down the sidewalks, past the mortals whose eyes did not perceive them. Into the lobby of their own hotel, and into the elevator there. Only then did he cease his efforts. Should they have been followed, no information of their passing would be available through the unprotected minds of others. Looking down at Lorna, who he finally released from his grasp, he worried. How much had...whoever it was...gleaned from her mind? She was rather drunk, which worked in his favor on this occasion. And another aspect that bothered him deeply was the look in the man's eyes, as he surveilled Lorna. Predatory, _proprietary_. It turned his stomach to think on it. But there was simply nothing to be done, except to leave this city and reflect with Thanadir on what small extra measures might be taken. It was with a sigh of relief that they entered their room and the door clicked shut behind them.

"I'm assuming he was more'v a creeper than I'd thought?" Lorna said, and it wasn't actually a question. She shuddered again, almost wanting to take a shower to get the skeeze of his gaze off her.

Thranduil gestured for them to take seats on their beds, so that they could converse facing each other. Thranduil heaved a huge sigh. "First I want to thank you both, Earlene and Lorna, for doing as I asked without question. That man was the most dangerous one you will ever meet, aside from me. And which of us is the stronger is something I do not know at this time." He smiled weakly. "You have laid eyes on a balrog, though not in the form in which you are accustomed to thinking. That word, 'balrog', it means 'demon' in our language. It is a word that can be assigned to any of the Ainur that elected to follow Morgoth, turning wholly to evil. He, _it_ , is not an elf but rather one of the ancient race first created by our father Eru. Since he cannot be a Vala, it only remains that he is of the Maiar, the spirit beings but holding lesser power. Sauron was a Maiar, as were all of the wizards told about in the films you watched. It is obvious that somehow, one of these remained all through this long span of time, much as we ourselves did. I can tell you that he is evil, and would likely harm us if he could just on principle. I brought you to me, Lorna, to shield your mind, which assuredly is as clear to him as it is to me. Beyond that, I am afraid you know as much as I do." He hung his head, and shook it. "I never expected this. Anything, but this."

Lorna shuddered again, but tried to be reassuring. "Well, I doubt he got much out'v my mind," she snorted. "All I could think was how bloody creepy he was - and I called you with my mind, but given how badly I mangle pronouncing your name, I doubt he got anything off me _that_ way. I wasn't thinking about Earlene or Thanadir or home. Having him so close was so horrifying I literally couldn't think'v anything else." This...she had no idea what to _do_ with this, but they'd be going home soon - and while it didn't take a genius to work out her accent, he didn't have her last name, and Lorna was hardly an uncommon name in Ireland. Though Earlene...but had Earlene actually given anyone her address, or did she just say she'd moved to Ireland? Lorna was pretty sure it was the latter. Sullivan was an incredibly common second name, though she wasn't quite so sure about the name Earlene.

Shaking her head, she added, "I'd thought he was looking at me like he wanted to turn my skin into a person-suit. Didn't guess I might actually be right."

Earlene leaned in to her husband. "I will only do what you ask me to. But, I could have that man's name for you, quickly. I have never laid eyes on him before tonight. But clearly Sandgraust has, or he would not have been there. And...something John Oehlert said to me, when we visited the office, makes me wonder if he does not know of and disapprove of this man. If you would allow it, a few text messages might give you a name. I am the real liability here, because everyone at that party knows me. I will say that I have made myself less easy to find; I gave no forwarding addresses. While a few, such as my own lawyer and the company that shipped my belongings do have a location, that would take some doing to find. I have not used social media since moving to Ireland. Which is all to say, I will be difficult to find but anyone can be discovered in time. The unfortunate aspect is that once found, I am at your doorstep."

Thranduil considered. "You of all people know discretion, Earlene. You may inquire."

Earlene pulled out her phone, and in a few seconds had tapped out to John, _Let me know when you've left One57._

 _Already gone,_ the reply came immediately. _Everything OK?_

 _Between you, me, and the wall, need to know who the tall man was with the very pale eyes at Sandgraust's?_

 _Wondered if that had something to do with your swift departure. That was Raoul Von Ratched, someone you can be very glad not to know._

 _Thanks, John. I owe you one. Be well :-)_

Earlene grimaced, but knew that John immediately deleted all text messages; he could not afford to have sensitive confidential information sitting around on a device that could potentially be stolen. And she did the same, as she obliterated the conversation, through long habit. "His name is Raoul Von Ratched, and I was right that John's opinion of him is not a good one," she said. "So, we have a name."

Lorna's eyebrows went up. "Raoul?" she said. Somehow, that creepy son of a bitch sharing a name with the gobshite from _Phantom of the Opera_ took a touch of the menace out of him. Not _much_ , but some - because he'd probably chose than name himself, and who in their right bloody mind would call themselves _Raoul_?

"We are not without defenses, even against such a one as that," said Thanadir, with a resolute look on his face.

"Indeed we are not," said the King, realizing the truth of the matter. "Balrogs are not invulnerable. Glorfindel slaughtered one, as did Ecthelion." He did not mention, that both paid with their lives for their deeds. He shook off the notion. The point was, they could be killed. "And we must remember, for all our distance, we still are elves, we still have the blessings of the Valar. Morgoth has been chained away to the Void for a great span of time. Whoever this is, it has no master, and no purpose aside from evil. Morgoth did not stand, and neither will this one, should he seek to interfere."

"I can get us better weapons, too," Lorna said, kicking off her sandals. "Handguns and assault rifles aren't legal in Ireland, but Shane can put me in touch with someone who could get one or a dozen. If he can be killed, a mini-gun's worth'v bullets ought to do it. Even if not, it would sting like a bitch." Guns, flamethrowers...the modern world had loads of long-range weapons. They probably couldn't hurt to have around.

Thranduil smiled. "His body can be damaged and killed, as can ours. And he can likely heal non-fatal damage with skill similar to my own, Lorna. I am not certain that seeking to kill him with human weapons is the best choice. Do not forget, he is not as you are; his body is only a form, a manifestation. Kill him and his spirit can take a new one, though perhaps not the same as the old. Which is why a weapon that can damage his power would be entirely more useful, and those weapons were not ones made by mortals."

Earlene raised her eyebrows, and decided that once home, those books would be a priority. Too much was happening and she was tired of her ignorance of their people. Her people. It was like being an American and not knowing there was a Constitution, for crying in the mud. "I am going to change, I'll just be a minute," she said, grabbing her comfortable clothes. _Jesus Christ, what an evening._ She emerged thirty seconds later, carefully laying the gown on the bed to fold and roll it in a way that would allow for packing. Because packing was what they needed to do now; tomorrow at seven they would be getting their ride to JFK to begin the long haul back to their home. And to her surprise, she could hardly wait.

Lorna caved and took a shower, washing off whatever imaginary toxin had settled over her skin. It meant she could pack away her toiletries tonight, which she did. In her nice soft, warm nightgown, she felt rather more at ease as she packed away her souvenirs, all the odds and ends that had become strewn around the room, leaving out only clean clothes for tomorrow.

Before Lorna could emerge from the bathroom, both ellyn had changed as well, and Thanadir and Earlene busied themselves replacing the tuxedos and other accoutrements on their hangers and in their bags, until all was zipped up in perfect order. These would be dropped off to the concierge, in the morning. Earlene returned her bracelet to Thranduil, who arched his eyebrows at her and smirked. "Oh," she said, shaking her head. He'd no intention of taking it back; it was something said to assuage Lorna's sensitivities. "Thank you, then," she said. "It is lovely." Where she'd wear it was beyond her, but, maybe in the Halls? It _was_ very pretty. _It couldn't hurt to play Queen now and again_ , she reasoned.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Alassëa had never been shy about wanting more jewels. And as his Queen, he gave them to her gladly. They were worn regally, but what had it been worth once he realized that she would far rather have another necklace than his attentions? He was far, far happier now, with this firieth who truly loved him as a whole being, and not for his vault.

Lorna arched an eyebrow. "Well, _I'm_ giving you my necklace back," she said. "I'll happily borrow it again, but it's not like I'd have any cause to take it out'v the Halls anyway, and it's safer with you."

"A deal is a deal," Thranduil smiled, holding out his hand for it. "But it did look lovely on you. It will be sent to your rooms, when we return."

She laughed. "I've learned not to argue," she said, handing it to him, "much, anyway. Just when I feel like it." Lorna looked at her laptop, but she had no idea what to email to Ratiri. This was the kind of creepy-ass thing best told in person, so she just dropped him a note say they were all tired and ready to be home, and was he still able to pick them up tomorrow night?

 _Thank bloody God_ , she thought, _this was the last day of our trip._ She didn't fancy the idea of trying to hide in New York City, and she'd imagine trying to exchange tickets on such short notice would have been a nightmare.

Ratiri could tell her in more depth what Maiar and Ainur were, and she could give him all her little goodies. As much fun as she'd had here, it would be good to be home, in her own bed, an ocean away from this creep.

Everything was mostly packed away, but something did not feel right. Earlene looked up to see Thanadir staring at her. "Hîr vuin?" she asked.

"I said we would run again tonight, in the Park. Are you willing?"

Her lips parted in indecision. This was the last thing on her mind, after everything else that had transpired. It was late. And yet most of tomorrow would be spent immobile on an airplane, and it was indeed her last opportunity. "Yes."

"Lorna, I presume you do not mind being left here alone for a time?" Thranduil asked, already knowing the answer but wishing to be certain. "Because I would strongly prefer to run with Thanadir and Earlene."

"I'm good," she said. "Don't know how much longer I'll be awake, I've drank that much this evening." She really was weirdly exhausted, probably from all the tension, for all it hadn't started that long ago. She felt safe enough in here, and Earlene and Thanadir would be a lot safer out there if Thranduil was with them.

It only needed moments, to put on the correct shoes and depart their room. Earlene looked at her whistle and now useless pepper spray, the empty canister of which she would toss in the lobby trash. Why she could possibly need it was beyond her but, dammit, tradition. Wishing to avoid coming anywhere near One57, she led them over to 5th Avenue to pick up the tangle of paths that would eventually merge with East Drive. There was no question about her destination, tonight.

Thranduil felt impressed that even in the dimmer lamplight, Earlene unquestionably knew these paths by heart. He'd not run with her in a long time, and she set a pace that he found impressive. She was strong, and fit. They arrived at the inevitable obelisk, to which she reached out her hand to touch (like she knew she was not supposed to, but this was a special occasion, she reasoned) in a farewell she imagined was rather more final, though who knew. This visit had accomplished what she hoped it might, and perhaps a bit more. This had been home, but would never be that again. She was only a visitor now. Who she was exactly, had not been fully worked out, but it had nothing to do with her old existence. "Goodbye, Ozymandias," she said aloud. It was her pet name for the beloved monument.

"Ozymandias?" asked Thanadir. "I thought this was called Cleopatra's Needle?" the elf said, confused, as he kept a wary eye around them for any others.

"Ozymandias is the name of a poem. I will recite it for you. She took a deep breath and spoke to the pillar; this poem was one of many that she had memorized, to try to keep her pain under control when she struggled with the worst of her troubles:

 _I met a traveller from an antique land,_

 _Who said—"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone_

 _Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,_

 _Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,_

 _And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,_

 _Tell that its sculptor well those passions read_

 _Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,_

 _The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;_

 _And on the pedestal, these words appear:_

 _My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;_

 _Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!_

 _Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_

 _Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare_

 _The lone and level sands stretch far away._

Do you understand?" she asked Thanadir, who shook his head No.

"I think I do," said Thranduil. "The poem talks of a ruler who was once mighty, and who built great monuments to his fame, and that declared his greatness. Yet time went by, and nothing remained of all he had made except for one lone inscription to his fame. Just like this obelisk, that praises a King no one recalls."

"Almost," said Earlene. "That King's name is still known to some; he was very famous. But for all practical purposes your answer is correct. And, I thank you, Cian. I would not have remembered to do this, and I am very glad for this chance." For another moment, she stood between them and held both their hands before they all turned to leave. It was fitting; her future was now with them.

They entered the room very quietly, to see the adorable sight of Lorna, passed out with her fingers still resting on her keyboard. With a smile, Earlene carefully slid out the computer and closed the lid, plugging it onto the charging cord; she'd no doubt want the full battery for tomorrow. Thranduil came up behind her and frowned, and laid his hand very softly on her forehead. This, as he saw it, was not only compassion but self-preservation; without intervention she would be most unhappy on awakening. He then ordered Thanadir into the shower, ignoring the arched eyebrows he received in response. Slipping off their shoes, they waited for the bathroom to be free, since Earlene at least was a sweaty mess and had no intention of going to sleep in this condition. Thanadir emerged wearing only a towel, which was unlike him, but then again Lorna was obviously lost to the world.

Without any threats of caterwauling, or as his diminutive friend thought of it, 'squicking', he paid his wife the luxurious attention he'd wished to for days. She was tiring, and he meant for her to sleep very well. But first things came first. She leaned against the tiled wall while as he kneaded her shoulders and back under the hot water, generally using shameless amounts of soap. He tended to her calves, legs and shapely rear end as well. _For all Lorna went on about assorted 'arses',_ Thranduil mused, _she clearly never considered female ones_. Earlene's was as firm and desirable as one could wish. By the time he worked his way from her full breasts to the place that carried his children, he was thoroughly aroused. He lifted her off her feet as she gasped in surprise, having visions of cracked heads in a shower stall (what a 911 call _that_ would be).

 _Estelio nin_ , she heard back with humor as she relaxed into his hold. He took his time, wondering how infinite the hotel's supply of hot water might be. He adjusted the spray so that the warm water fell on her breasts, that he occasionally indulged in giving more attention. He wondered if Earlene knew, of the delights her body would yet give her, as he imitated the suckling of an infant and immediately felt her clench against him. Eru had provided so many delights, and he admitted to yearning again for something he'd only enjoyed very few times; nursing at his wife's breast. To him it had been beyond erotic, and he felt himself hardening within her at the thought of it. Under his steady ministrations, Earlene was having greater and greater difficulty maintaining her silence. _Please_ , she said. _Though you tell me he is used to it, I have no wish to scandalize Thanadir. I hope to have better manners, but you are pushing me beyond endurance._

It was a fair request, and he was close to his own limit as well. He forcefully thrust into her as he kissed her fervently, their moans of bliss lost in each other. Earlene did not dare let go of her hold on him. He kissed her tenderly, all over her neck and face as she recovered in his arms.

 _I did not tell you this earlier,_ he heard, _in fact I do not know how to say this, because you will tell me it is to be expected. At the party, when you took us out of there; your intention to protect both Lorna and I was so...obvious. I have felt the same from Thanadir; a sense that he would give everything before he would allow me to be harmed. It is not...usual, in our world. There is no manner in which I have not felt loved, by you. Expected or not, thank you. Wife, subject, or not, that you would incur risk for me when I am mortal and you are not...I want you to know that I am grateful, my Lord._

For once, there was no lecture, no further discussion. Only soft lips against her own, kissing her deeply.

Lorna woke the next morning mercifully free of any sort of morning-after. Since she'd already taken a shower last night, all she had to do was braid her hair, get dressed, and pack up her laptop.

She'd been so deep asleep she hadn't dreamt, which was also a mercy; she'd been half afraid she'd have nightmares about Creepy McCreeperson, but there had been nothing of any sort. She just needed food and caffeine and she'd be good to go. Mostly. She was not going to enjoy being on the plane. It just wasn't going to happen, but she wasn't half so freaked out by it going back as she'd been coming in.

It being the last day, she and Thanadir between them managed to clean out half the pastry case at the bakery, and Lorna snapped some photos of the menu, because if anyone could duplicate these tasty bits of deliciousness, it would be Mairead and Siobhan.

It really was a good thing this was the last day, because the heat and humidity had soared, and the interior of the airport was so crowded the air conditioning wasn't doing a great deal. Still, she stuck close behind the elves, so nobody stepped on her. Ratiri had confirmed he was in fact picking them up in Dublin; her worries, theoretically, were all dealt with. The thought of putting the Atlantic between the lot of them and Creeper was quite a relief, too.

Getting on the plane, she was torn. It wasn't fair to deprive Earlene of Thranduil as a seatmate, but Lorna had got a vague impression that Thanadir didn't actually like her all that much. Whatever, they'd work it out among themselves. She'd be taking a nice long nap anyway, if she could get Thranduil to put her under, so she'd wake up with some energy when they got home. There were loads of things to give and show and tell Ratiri, and the souvenirs to sort and wrap for her friends in Baile.

Thranduil pondered what he was perceiving from Lorna and frowned. He could guess at the origin of her impressions of Thanadir, but her views were clouded by their differences in personality. Thanadir would give his life to protect Lorna, but it did not mean he was inclined to endure flying toast. It was not about 'like' or 'dislike', and it bothered him that she would feel this way. _And yet how to do something about it?_

Thanadir's head tilted to one side as Thranduil...informed him. His eyebrows raised, and while they waited to make their way to business class, he considered for a few moments before leaning down. "Lorna, would you mind it, if I sat near you?"

Lorna blinked, startled. "Sure," she said. "You go on ahead and have the window seat. I know you'd appreciate it a hell'v a lot more than me."

"Thank you, I will," he said politely. They settled themselves; it was all much the same as last time. Thanadir watched Lorna furtively as her eyes betrayed growing agitation that she worked hard to dissemble, as the flight attendants went through their 'if we need to make a water landing' speech. He kept on watching, until the were within seconds of takeoff, before offering his hand to her. "Hold onto me," the old elf said in his kindest tone of voice.

Lorna took it with only the barest trace of hesitation. "Not sure I'll ever like flying," she said. "Once we get up, I'll just pretend we're not up. A lot easier to do if I'm not seeing out the window." The 'water landing' was the worst of it this go-round, too. Thought of it...no. Just...no.

It was harder for him, much harder, but he had healing abilities of his own, and he did his best to let his sense of peace flow into her. That he did not understand her fear and anxiety did not mean he would ignore it. He rather enjoyed the sensation of the great machine roaring to life, and the sight of them leaving the earth. He looked out the window in rapt fascination as the great city of men was left behind; in only one minute they were so very high and far away. He remembered, with chagrin, to release her hand, and as he fiddled with his video monitor that gave him wind speed, altimeter, and miles to their destination, he considered what else he might say to her.

"What did you enjoy the most? I think like us, you have rarely been so far from home?"

Now rather more relaxed, Lorna half-smiled. "I've never been anywhere near so far from home," she said. "I loved it, until last night, but I'm glad to be going home, too. New York's grand, but it's not Ireland. I'm happy we're headed back to open spaces, y'know? It's like...it's like being in canyons, in the city, big deep ones. I think my favorite was the natural history museum. So much I'd never've seen at home." She didn't want to say that he'd seemed a bit overwhelmed at times, so instead she asked, "What's the oddest thing you learned, while we were there?"

He laughed. "That was definitely what happened last night, but I think this is not a place to discuss that. But aside from that…" he frowned. "I learned so, so many things. But these dinosaurs, and that film about the heavens above us, those were both strange and important to me. And maybe besides that….was Nonna at the restaurant." He grinned, clearly remembering the first time in his long life he had ever over-eaten.

"Christ, Nonna," Lorna said, fighting back laughter. She was only grateful the old lady had _patted_ his cheek, not _pinched_ it. "I still wonder how it is you can eat so much and be built like you are. I mean, I eat a lot for someone my size, but still. My Gran, she'd've loved you. She'd've taken it as her personal challenge to feed you too much. Little old ladies, especially grans and nonnas, are just like that. I just wish I knew what she'd said to you. We'll have to ask Earlene later."

"I know that it is...amusing to others, how much I like food," he confessed, while keeping his voice deliberately low in volume. "And I am not sure how this began. My family were Silvan; people that preferred to dwell in the forest lands. They came under the authority of Fionn's father. When I was young, food was not plentiful. Everything had to be gained by hunting, fishing, or foraging. There were no places for gardening, and it was much work. I remember feeling hungry, often, but it was not right to ask for more than my share. Later on, I was accepted into the service of Oropher's household and there was food to enjoy, wonderful food. I worked as Steward, and the leftovers were abundant. Plus, the workers in the kitchens liked me," he grinned, clearly lost in his memories. He shrugged. "I do not ever seem to grow in the wrong direction. You do not see me every minute of every day, but many of the things I do are physically demanding. I do not mean to seem...excessive, but food, especially food like we have eaten on this trip, and the food Earlene cooks...it is wonderful."

Just then the attendant appeared, to ask what drinks they would like to have.

Lorna ordered a rum and Coke, and considered this. "Earlene really is a bloody good cook," she said. "I didn't exactly grow up with a load'v food myself. Might be why I'm so damn short." There hadn't been any place for her to garden, either - their surroundings had just been very, very different. Stealing counted as foraging, though, right? Sure it did. "Can your lot -" she'd just barely stopped herself saying 'elves' "- even get fat?" Somehow, she doubted it.

Thanadir frowned, after also ordering a rum and coke along with water. "It should theoretically be possible, were we to eat such as the Holey Cream all the time," but since we do not, probably it would take great effort. I wonder if Earlene knows how to make donuts," he said wistfully.

He was so wistful that Lorna laughed. "If she doesn't, I'm sure she can learn," she said. "Mairead's got recipes out the nose. I tried to help her once and just wound up burning myself on the hot oil. I'm a rubbish cook myself, so staying with Earlene so often's been spoiling me. Then again, I'd probably die'v malnutrition if I wasn't around _someone_ who could cook. I actually managed to light pasta on fire a few years ago, and that shouldn't even be possible." Fortunately she'd done that at home, or Mairead would never have let her live it down.

Thanadir's eyes widened and he debated if he should swallow his pride in an offer of friendship. "I am not a good cook either. I tried, one time, to do the work in the kitchens, and it did not go well. Apparently there is more to baking bread than one would believe. All of my efforts were inedible, and finally I was asked to stop trying. That was very hard. I am not used to failure. Not like that," he shook his head, looking very sad. "I did not light pasta on fire but I found out that bread is flammable," he offered sheepishly.

She remembered what Thranduil had said, about his inability to bake, and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "God isn't there ever," she sighed. "Gran tried to teach me to make it the old way, in an oven like you've got at home. What I wound up with was a charcoal lump. I think it managed to burn to a crisp without actually catching fire, which I'm fairly sure violates the laws'v thermodynamics." Not that she knew much about those, but still. It didn't seem like it should be possible, and the thing had actually crumbled when she took it out of the oven.

"No, it does not, because after I caught one loaf on fire I did what you describe to the next." They looked at each other and some form of shared humiliation started them laughing. Thanadir looked out the window briefly, shaking his head before turning back to her. "I know we are not very similar, Lorna, but I do like you very much. I am not very good at coping with things outside of what I think they should be. I am not always easy to be around, and I am sorry for that. I want to apologize, because I am sure there have been times that I have been….what was it you said, the night we watched the movie with the sword fight? No fun. It has often fallen to me to be...no fun, and I know that I do not always know when to stop." The doe eyes were being deployed in full force, though not on purpose. It was not usual for him to speak like this, and he was sincerely sorry for his increasing awareness of how mortals tended to view him.

Jesus Christ, the doe eyes...they could be a god damn super-weapon. "You like 'seemliness'," she said, which was not a word she'd ever even heard of before she met the elves, "and I'm about as seemly as a bag full'v rabid weasels. I'd figured I was just grating on your nerves, since Christ knows I'm good at that. The only people than can really stand me being _me_ around them very long're my sister and my old boss, and even they call me childish sometimes. It's…" How the hell could she put words around this? Communicating with Thranduil was easy, because half the time he seemed to know what she was thinking before she did. Actually using her words was more difficult than it ought to be for a woman her age. "I've spent most'v my life just trying to have fun in the moment, because the future wasn't worth thinking'v. All I - hell, everyone I knew - knew when I was younger was that the future was probably going to be crap, so there was no point thinking or worrying about it. I'm not so bad that way anymore, but still. I'm kind'v used to people rolling their eyes and disapproving'v me, and normally I wouldn't give half a shit, because there's not that many people in this world I actually give a shit _about_. You lot, you're my friends." She shook her head, picking at the end of her braid. "I didn't have a childhood, Cian," she said. "I had a da who beat the shite out'v us, never enough food to go around - half the time, especially once I got older, it wasn't safe to go home, so I just went wherever I could take shelter. If I'm childish now, it's because I didn't get to be then."

The seneschal's lips parted at what he was hearing; it took considerable effort to not let his entire face betray his emotions. It was all so obvious, now. He had never asked his King why he invested such time in Lorna or what the reason was for his obvious closeness to her; it was in no way his place to do so. But to hear plainly now, that she had been treated by her own father as Thranduil had been treated by Oropher...it was horrifying. He would never forget the heartbreak of what he was forced to witness, or what it was like to hold the broken young prince in his arms as he tried to offer some kindness and comfort when it was safe to do so. "I am so sorry, Lorna. I did not know, and I hope you can forgive me. For a very long time, it was my role to do as I was asked to do, without questions. Everything is changing now, and I am slowly realizing that my old habits do not serve me well. I cannot promise that I will never become fixated again on what is seemly, but I will try to show more understanding. And, I would do anything to help you. You only need ask. You are strong, and have much spirit, but there are times all of us need others."

His sentiments were interrupted by the arrival of their beverages.

"You had no way'v knowing," she said, as gently as she was able, once they'd taken their drinks and the hostess moved on. "It's not exactly something I go around advertising, and I know Thranduil doesn't let on anything unless I tell him he can, which happens approximately never." She actually managed to give him a ginger pat on the hand, which for her was downright effusive. "And Christ knows what you've gone through, meeting the, uh, modern world. Must've been a shock and a bloody half, trying to get used to it, even before we went to New York. You've handled the whole mess'v it better than I probably could've, if we'd been in opposite places. Hell, you two've handled it better than I _did_ , when I first went to live with Mairead." She glanced down the aisle, making sure the hostess couldn't hear. "You want to know something pathetic? I'd never used a proper butter-knife until I was twenty-six. When my brothers and sister and I were little, we'd get soup in a big pot, and just eat it out'v the pot - sometimes we didn't even each have our own spoon. My table manners weren't so much awful as nonexistent, and my Gran drummed them into me by literally smacking my hand if I got something wrong." She couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "I'm doing what I can for you lot, too. We do sometimes need others, though that's been a hard lesson for me to learn over the years. Even if some'v us are bloody different people," she added, giving him a crooked smile. Hopefully Thranduil could untangle anything she didn't get across well, since God knew there was probably plenty.

He drank his water, and with a slightly mischievous grin swapped out her empty rum and coke for his full one. "I will not tell if you will not," he smiled.

It was unavoidable for Thranduil to hear all of this, as he held his wife's hand. He wished that he had done a better job of introducing these two to each other. Gazing out the window, he thought of the many, many times he had taken Thanadir for granted. He had been a part of his life for so long, that life without him had become unimaginable. And in these past months, he had been forced to realize how much he had overlooked that reality. His stern and eminently capable servant had thoughts and feelings of his own, in addition to great love for him. He could not see precisely where their lives were headed, any longer. There would be children, and the joys of family, to which he was greatly looking forward. And beyond that, later?

 _You will be shown the way home._

His head snapped around. It had been Earlene's voice in his mind, but the same strange light he had seen in her eyes many weeks ago was present once again. He hesitated to respond, to say anything.

He waved his fingers carefully in front of her unseeing stare that was fixed on him.

 _You do not yet understand. But you will, in time._

 _Understand what, meluieg?_ he asked, unable to stand this any longer.

Earlene blinked, confused. _I am sorry, my Lord. What are you asking?_

 _Meluieg, do you remember what you were thinking, just now?_

She shook her head. _I was going to ask you a question, but now I cannot remember what it was._

He smiled, hiding his concern from her as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. _If you recall what it is, I am here._

Nodding, she turned her attention to her video screen as Thranduil carefully watched her thoughts. He could see that she had a sensation of having 'skipped', of not recalling the last few moments, and that it puzzled her, but not enough to spend much time considering. He sighed. Frowning, he turned on his own video screen, and sought something to watch.

By the time they landed in Dublin, Lorna was a bit drunk and quite at one with the world. It was somewhat jarring to be arriving so late in the evening, but to smell the sea air of Dublin, to feel the nice, _cool_ temperatures, was bloody wonderful. The airport wasn't even as crowded this late at night, so finding their bags wasn't too much of a difficulty. (Though God was she glad she'd sewed on the ribbons; it made everything exponentially easier.)

"All right, we've not forgot anything, have we?" she asked, counting the luggage. "I'm half plastered, I'll not know it otherwise."

Thranduil cocked an eyebrow and frowned at his seneschal, who looked mildly chagrined. He had tried to be friendly to Lorna, and thought that giving her all of his alcoholic drinks in addition to her own would be appreciated. Perhaps six had been too many? The King elected to not interfere, but did hover nearby since he was not having her fall down or otherwise incur bodily harm until she was able to greet Ratiri. Thanadir and Earlene managed the bags easily on their own; that was the marvelous thing about luggage with wheels.

Ratiri was lurking in the lounge near the entrance, drinking a very large Thermos of tea and reading, unsurprisingly, a volume of the _Book of Lost Tales._ He stood up when he saw them, and Lorna was drunk enough that she pulled him into a sloppy hug when she reached him.

"You've got souvenirs," she said, grinning up at him. "Be afraid."

Given that this was Lorna, he probably should be, but he was just glad to see her in person again. "You've already sent me some terrifying pictures," he said, inwardly so very, very glad she hugged him so readily.

She had even more terrifying things to tell him, but that could wait until they were all safe in the Halls, since she wasn't actually the one who knew what the hell she was talking about anyway. "But there's so much more," she said.

"Your sister made me promise to make certain you hadn't murdered anyone while you were away. I assured her that if you had, it would have made the news."

Lorna burst out laughing. "Just wait," she said. "Where are you parked?"

"Car park, second floor. You have everything?" he asked, of the group in general.

"We think so," said Earlene. "And I'm truly sorry about this beastly arrival time. It's dismaying that we've been heading this way since 7am in another time zone, and now we'll have you up past two." She came closer to give him a slightly awkward hug in greeting and by way of thanks. So much that was so surreal had transpired in five short days that it felt like half a lifetime.

"The nature of the beast, half the time," Ratiri said. "I've got tomorrow off work, so it's no matter if I'm up all night." He led them out into the beautifully cool night, and helped them get their assorted bags and suitcases stowed. It was a damn good thing Lorna had bought a van, because even his Bronco couldn't have seated everyone comfortably.

"I guess you'd best draw straws for seats," he said, somehow managing to shut the back doors without breaking anything.

"Ride up front, Lorna. I will improve your clarity if need be," smirked Thranduil, climbing immediately into the place behind the passenger seat.

Thranduil was going to know how grateful he was without the bother of saying anything - though that was also still a touch disturbing, because one day, Ratiri was bound to think something he'd rather anyone else not know about. Oh well. Lorna had said that Thranduil kept everything to himself, unless given permission to do otherwise.

Lorna hopped into the passenger's seat, fumbling with her belt a bit. Once everyone was secured, it was off and outward. The good thing about the utterly shit landing time was that there was next to no traffic on the motorway at all - unfortunately, he'd been warned about his driving habits by Lorna, and was stuck driving like a granny the whole bloody way to Lasg'len. A hundred and thirteen kilometers an hour was just sad - but sooner or later he and Lorna could take her Charger out and see what it could do.

The village, of course, was completely asleep, not a single window lit as they coasted through the silent streets. It stayed silent right up until they pulled into the drive at Earlene's cottage, the engine ticking a little when Ratiri shut it off.

Lorna had in fact fallen asleep, and took a vague swat at him when he tried to shake her away, very much like a cranky but highly lazy cat. Mindful of what her sister (and half the rest of Baile) had said, he opted to find a stick to poke her awake with.

 _Ratiri, allow me to help,_ he heard from Thranduil. He opened the passenger door and laid a hand on her shoulder, before undoing the seatbelt and lifting her out of the van while Thanadir and Earlene quickly dragged their pieces of luggage into the front door of the cottage. Ratiri and Thranduil walked around to the back doors. It was a clear night, and not too cold. Thranduil handed Lorna off to Ratiri. _Take her, please. I will be just one moment. She will not wake._ The man looked surprised yet pleased when Lorna was transferred to his arms. At the very least, it could be said that he did not appear to mind. Entering the cottage, he tried to determine what the delay was.

"I am sorry, Thranduil. It is cold here, for me, and I was trying to get to my cloak but…" she waved her hand in frustration, because they had neatly blockaded that part of the hallway.

"Leave it be, meluieg. Thanadir or I will ensure you stay warm."

She knew better than to doubt, and at once turned off the light and made ready to leave, taking Thanadir's arm. The white light had just ruined her night vision; it would take many minutes now for her eyes to readjust. They began the walk to the Halls. _When you tire, Ratiri, tell me and I will take her from you. I know she is heavy to carry for such a distance._ The King's eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight, and they entered the forest path.

As happy as Ratiri was to have his armful of Lorna, he had actually been wondering how the hell he could possibly get her that distance by himself. She was tiny, yes, but seven stone was still a bit for any human to carry on a thirty-minute walk.

"Lorna sent me a number of somewhat odd photos," he said, quietly so as to avoid waking her. The great thing about Elves was that he didn't need to speak up. "Was your trip as mad as she made it seem?" The video of the mating lions, and that child's distressed reaction, had made him laugh so hard he'd shared it with everyone at the pub.

"Madder," said Earlene. "I do not know where to begin. Wait, yes I do. This is far from certain, but did she tell you about what I found out on Ellis Island?"

"She said your great-uncle was a Donovan," Ratiri said, trying not to stumble. Hey, it was dark and he had human eyes. "She thought it would be something to look into, once you were home." There would be an odd serendipity to it, if the two did turn out to be some how related. Family finding family, without even realizing it. This would be so much easier if Lorna wasn't completely dead weight, but he didn't particularly want to give her up just yet.

"Yeah," said Earlene. "We never knew why gran wanted my brother named Aidan. She insisted on it. Turns out that Aidan Donovan was my gran's brother, turned back at Ellis Island, shipped back home. If it really turned out to be a connection, it'd be amazing. And that wasn't the half of it."

Ratiri was fairly sure someone in Dad's family had gone to America, but he hadn't realized Ellis Island would toss people back. God, what a horrible thing, and especially for a child - for if he recalled correctly, Earlene's gran had emigrated as a little girl. "Ireland's a tiny island," he said. "I'd be surprised if there wasn't some connection there, however distant. And she sent a lot of pictures of the place, and you lot. What did you have to do to get her to pose by the window in the Statue of Liberty Crown? She looked ready to run away."

"I did not realize how much Lorna dislikes heights until this journey", said Thranduil. "But even she could not possibly fall out of those windows. It was over with quickly," he chuckled.

Earlene chimed in. "As I recall it she did well enough. Everyone was fairly occupied with learning about the three hundred different hammers used to build the thing," she quipped.

"She hates heights, and yet she likes to climb trees," Ratiri said, shaking his head. "Whereas I don't mind heights, but you couldn't pay enough to get up into a tree." He was too tall, and weighed too much because of it - and unlike Elves, couldn't break the laws of physics and allow himself to walk along slender boughs. (Or on snow. Seriously, _that_ just wasn't fair.) "But she didn't get herself arrested. Mairead owes me a fiver."

Earlene pursed her lips, wondering how close Lorna might have come to that, had she gone troddling off to Central Park the night of the 'incident', but said nothing. That entire story was best not told at after two in the morning. Thranduil allowed Ratiri to soldier on for awhile longer, but at the halfway point the poor man had more than exceeded expectations, and he took Lorna to carry the rest of the way. They all went first to their guests' rooms, to set Lorna into bed. Earlene gently removed her sandals and as the rest of her clothing was loose-fitting, decided to call it good. Thranduil pulled the covers over her and kissed her on the forehead, and Earlene dropped the curtains closed on her bed so that the elleth would not wake her in the morning. They said goodnight to Ratiri after ensuring his rooms were in basic order, and went each to their own rooms.

Thanadir entered his quarters with a smile and sat down at Lorna's sewing machine. He was just in a mood to work on a quilt square, for a short time. Thranduil and Earlene wasted no time undressing and going to bed. They did not make a drawn-out encounter of it, but did take full advantage of no longer needing to be completely quiet.

Ratiri, exhausted himself, changed into the strange, soft nightshirt the Elves had given him, crawled into the wonderful softness of his bed, and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	39. Chapter 39

Lorna woke the next morning quite pleased to be _home_ \- well, in her home-away-from-home.

She took a lovely bath, soaking in the hot-spring-fed pool, put on some of the human clothes she'd left here (including one of her beloved flannel tunics), and headed out in search of food.

She paused at Ratiri's door, debating whether or not she should knock, but they'd kept him up awfully late last night; if he wanted to sleep in, she'd let him sleep. God knew he deserved it.

Earlene and Thranduil never seemed to eat breakfast in the dining hall, and as none of the other elves spoke English, Lorna couldn't exactly eat there, either. Hoping they were both awake and not, uh, celebrating being home, she headed for their room, reassuring herself that they'd probably got _that_ out of the way last night.

Thanadir and Ratiri caught up with her; apparently the smiling seneschal had pressed him into duty, as he was bearing a large tray while Ratiri carried a large teapot. "Good morning, Lorna," Thanadir beamed at her. "I hope you are hungry. Today we have apples and raisins in the porridge." Apparently the produce orders were expanding, at least a little. At Thanadir's direction, Lorna knocked twice on the door and pushed it open to allow breakfast to precede her into the room. Earlene was sitting by the fire in their bedroom, reading to Thranduil. Or at least, trying to. She still could not remotely process the Tengwar at the speed of English.

"Good morning," Lorna said, giving the pair of them a grin before shoving open the door. "We've got food, if anyone's up for it. Did you sleep well? I crashed out like a baby."

Ratiri, bearing a paper gift bag, set it down on an end table. "This got put in my room," he said. "You might want to open it after we eat."

"I slept great," said Earlene. "It helped that for us, it was a 10pm or so bedtime. Can't even imagine how tired you must be, Ratiri. You're the one that really got kept up all night," she replied, carefully setting the book down on the sofa and joining them at the table, enjoying the sight of Thanadir meticulously setting the table. She could not resist coming next to the elf and giving a quick half-hug. It was so, _so_ good to be home. Moving around, she greeted Ratiri in the same manner. It really had been immensely kind of him, to haul their arses back here at such an ungodly hour.

Ratiri, not being nearly as awkward about physical contact as Lorna, returned the half-hug. "I was an on-call physician for many years," he said. "I'm used to it, and this bed is so much more comfortable than Indira's couch." He really did need to get a flat of his own in Baile, sooner or later; the dissonance between this lovely bed and that fold-out couch was too much. Though speaking of that… "Lorna mentioned that you were pregnant," he said, taking a seat beside Lorna, who had taken up residence on the sofa nearest the fire. "Twins. You're tall enough that hopefully that won't be too uncomfortable for you, so long as everything goes normally." He had seen pretty much every single way a pregnancy could go wrong over the years, but there were Elves.

What he _wasn't_ going to bring up yet - because there was no point - was that twins might necessitate a visit to a human hospital. No matter how wonderful Elven medicine was, he had a feeling C-sections were beyond them. Time enough for that later, if it looked like it was going to come to that. If not, no point in saying anything.

"Yes. April 25, this began. So, a little more than six weeks? I suppose I'll be a scientific curiosity, of sorts. I'm of the understanding that this pregnancy is unique in all the world; the first one ever of a mortal woman and an elven father. We've no idea what the gestation will be, outside of a likely time frame. But as there isn't anything that Thranduil can't manage, I'm not too concerned. Though, it'd be nice, if I didn't carry them the full year," she said with a smile. "And you already know too about Allanah. We should talk, soon, because while I doubt it will ever be needed, the government people will assuredly want to see that I have an established physician. I confess I would prefer that to be you, if you are willing."

Lorna, taking a bowl of porridge, watched Ratiri with undisguised - though affectionate - amusement. He was in Nerd Mode now, his grey eyes absolutely alight. "Are you the first mortal woman to carry a Peredhel child?" he asked. "Will your children... _default_ is the only word I can think of...as humans, or Elves? I'd always figured Peredhel started out as physiologically Elves because in all known cases, the mother was an Elf." He shook himself, and took some porridge of his own. "Of course I'd be willing. I worked at Great Ormond Street long enough that I'd look good on paper." It wasn't arrogance to say that; he'd worked for fifteen years in a very prestigious hospital. On paper, that did in fact look good, especially to an adoption service, or whatever one used to adopt a child that was already a blood relation.

"No, it's not like that, though please correct me if I'm not saying this right," she smiled at her husband. "They will be more like elves, regardless; the difference is that they will have the choice, of whether to be counted among elves or men. And yes; you've read the books that I desperately need to get going on. There were only three pairings of elves with mortals, and in each of those, the female was Edhel. I think Lorna told you, they will be girls?"

Three...three...he'd swear he'd read there were four. Beren and Lúthien, Idril and Tuor, Arwen and Aragorn...who the hell were the fourth? Mithrellas and...some Númenorian whose name was Númenorian, and thus too ridiculous to try to pronounce. "She did, yes. You're going to have three little girls running around." God help them. Give the lot of them tiny wooden swords and at least they'd wear each other out, even if they'd probably constantly go around covered in bruises (assuming Elves actually _could_ bruise). Poor Allanah might well wind up resenting the twins' durability, since it meant they'd be able to fall out of trees far more safely - not that they'd be likely to fall in the first place, because Elves.

"You may be correct, Ratiri," said Thranduil, enjoying his porridge. "If a fourth union happened in Númenor of old, it would have been outside of our knowledge. And, the harder part will be that our children will need to care for Allanah; they will develop much faster than she will in every respect but reaching maturity. Our people have the milestone of physical maturity at fifty of your years, and are considered fully adult at one hundred."

Wouldn't that wind up being odd...mentally much older than their foster/whatever sibling to begin with, but then still looking quite younger than her once she'd reached adulthood. To be the sole human child among Elves...well, he and Lorna would be around often enough. The kid would more humans around than just Mom, which would probably be a good thing, since God knew how inferior it would be easy to feel, living permanently as a human among Elves. "And yet they can run and sing by the time they turn one," he said, laughing a little. "I had always thought Tolkien just liked the idea of skipping dealing with babies. I don't know about Elf children, but human babies are entirely helpless and unable to communicate through any means but crying. I think every parent who ever was would wish their baby could speak so young." The crying, as he'd so soberly seen over the years, was a double-edged sword; yes, it let the parent know the baby was in distress, but far more than one sleep-deprived, post-partum-depression -suffering (immediately or by proxy) parent had snapped and shaken the baby to shut it up, only to accidentally kill it.

"My gifts will allow me to understand Allanah's needs, and ease her discomforts," Thranduil said. "Hopefully, it will be easier for her on account of this. And meluieg, when she is with us, we should see about helping your body to be able to feed her. I can only imagine what she is now being given," he said with a grimace.

"Helping…?" If that meant what Lorna though it meant, it was eminently practical, but also, to her, obscurely disturbing. _Why_ , she had no idea, because it shouldn't be. Thought of breastfeeding had always been unsettling to her, for no good (or understandable) reason.

Ratiri, however, was too much of a doctor. "You can _do_ that?" he asked. "Without impacting the pregnancy?" Maybe he sounded a bit too eager, but...doctor. Pediatrician. Of course he was curious.

"He can do anything, Ratiri," Earlene said softly. "He can heal broken bones with a touch. He could choose the sex of our children. He could repair my mind. I don't know how he does any of it; I assume it is beyond what I could understand. And so you know...you can ask me anything, about this process. I will tell you anything I can, of my experiences. You must be curious, you are a scientist."

"The trouble with my curiosity," Ratiri said, because he knew already this would be true, "is that I suspect the answer will most often involve 'magic', and I'm too much of a scientist not to wonder. How does it work? _Why_ does it work? I don't know how much _X-Files_ any of you have seen yet, but one character says 'Nothing happens in contradiction to nature-'"

"'-only to what we know'v it," Lorna finished, grinning. "Ah, but I'll raise you one: _Thor._ Magic and science are two sides'v the same thing. Theoretically."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "I could try to explain, but I lack the words for many of the...smaller? structures in the body. In the end, I am only influencing or rearranging to health what is already there. All of us have this gift, in some measure, though I am unusually able. You would ask me how I do it, and I would only be able to tell you that the life force of our kind, energy, if you will, moves from me to act as I wish it to. And likely, because this is nothing you could duplicate, it would be unhelpful. It is among the blessings given to the Firstborn." He dabbed his lips with his napkin, having finished his food.

"I couldn't duplicate it, but I'd love to learn anyway," Ratiri said, remembering that he actually had breakfast, too. After a bite, he said, "It's the curse of scientists. We want to know everything, however useless."

"How you lot ever sleep, I have no idea," Lorna said. She'd already almost finished her porridge.

"We often don't," he admitted. "We might preach about the evils of caffeine, but that doesn't stop us being addicted to it. Oh," he added, "I found this in my room. I think it was one of your birthday presents that got stuck in there by mistake." He handed her a rather garishly red gift-bag, topped with a froth of curly ribbon.

Lorna had thought she'd opened all her gifts. Oops. Setting aside her bowl, she pulled at the ribbon until the plastic gave, digging through the sparkly tissue paper.

Unfortunately, she made the epic mistake of pulling its contents out, rather than just peeking into the bag. What she found…

"Oh, fucking _Christ_ ," she groaned. This had to have been Siobhan's gift: a glittery purple vibrator. With bunny ears.

"Is that-" It took Ratiri a moment to figure out what he was looking at, and then he blushed scarlet all the way to his ears.

"Unfortunately, yes it is," Lorna sighed, stuffing it back into the bag. Her own face was actually rather hot, because Jesus, she'd opened the damn thing in front of _Thanadir_. This was possibly the least seemly thing the elf would have ever seen in his life. "I'm going to murder that woman."

Earlene started giggling uncontrollably, and when she could not stop, excused herself and closed their bedroom door behind her, knowing that Lorna would really, really not be happy about this. Which made it worse in a way, because her mirth was heard to only increase in volume, with the occasional shriek of laughter. "Excuse me," said Thranduil. "I believe Earlene cannot breathe…" he trailed off as he hurriedly left the table and followed her, closing the door behind him. He found her on the bed, clutching her stomach, trying to speak. "I'm sorry…" was all she could manage before more laughter came and tears were forced out of her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, and finding this undesirable for the children, he quickly took her into her arms, bringing calm over her. "I'm so sorry," she said, as her breathing returned to normal. "I did not mean to cause a scene."

"Meluieg, I do not understand," he said. "What was so funny?"

Earlene explained the purpose of the device in the most delicate terms possible.

"Oh by Eru, that Siobhan woman is _impossible_ ," he spat, now feeling very sorry for Lorna. There was humor, and then there was crassness. He would never, ever tease Lorna in such a manner. And, the beginnings of a plan were forming.

"Come, meluieg. We will return now." He led her by the hand, back to the table, where she sincerely apologized to Lorna for her inability to control herself, with a blush on her cheeks.

"Thanadir, could I prevail on you to clear the table? We will leave soon for Earlene's cottage," the King said, waiting until the elf departed before speaking further. Lorna and Ratiri were both deeply interested in their teacups. When the door shut at last, Thranduil continued. "Lorna, she has gone too far, this time. I wish to teach her a lesson, but I do not know how. But I am most definitely open to suggestions."

"She's impossible to embarrass," Lorna sighed, casting a glance at poor Ratiri, who was still red as a firebrick. "Seriously, we could send a male stripper into her bakery and she'd just smile and applaud. The whole village knows what she's like - she's not ashamed'v it. There's got to be _something_ , though."

"Go for something clinical," Ratiri managed, not looking at anyone. "There's nothing sexy about a gyno exam."

"You don't know Siobhan," Lorna said darkly. "Trust me. If she's not hit on at least one gynecologist, I'd be very surprised."

Thranduil sighed. "Well, maybe nothing presents itself now, but sooner or later…" he shook his head. "I do not appreciate seeing my friends embarrassed in this manner." Earlene turned a deeper shade of pink, at hearing this. She really, really wished she could not have laughed.

"Not the first time," Lorna sighed, shaking her head. "I know it's bloody hilarious, because Jesus, look at the damn thing. It's _sparkly_. Just... _why?_ And why rabbit ears, of all damn things? I don't think I want to know." She shook her head. "There's got to be some toy out there that'd embarrass even her. As long as Thanadir doesn't know about it, poor bloke. I can only imagine how horrified he'd be if he knew, given that you lot are...you lot."

"He did not know what that was," said Thranduil. "Nor do I plan on informing him. Enough of this; there are many other matters to discuss; we should return to the cottage."

This made Earlene feel better; she really had not wanted to make Lorna feel bad. And it was true; the rabbit ears _were_ what had done her in….

"And pick up that kitten, sooner or later," Lorna said. "I'm sure he's torn apart Mary's house while we were away. Assuming her three monstrosities didn't smother him, or drown him in drool." Those three...she liked cats, she did, but those three were a menace. A fluffy, fluffy, drooling menace. "What d'you want me to do with…?" She held up the bag, wincing a bit. "Y'know what?" She marched across the room, tossed the bag through the bedroom door, and shook her head. "Merry early Christmas." The pair of them could likely have fun with it, as much as she did _not_ want to think that thought. She had her own battery-operated friend that was not _sparkly_...oh fuck, why did she think of that?

Carefully not looking at Thranduil, she followed Ratiri to the door. Yeah, she knew he'd never say anything, but it was bad enough that he knew at all. Shit.

Back at the cottage, items and luggage were sorted. Earlene tossed a spare copy of the NY Times at Lorna, grinning. "Here, I kept one too. I knew you'd want a memento of the Amazons of Central Park," she smirked.

Lorna burst out laughing. "Um, yes," she said, tucking it into her bag. "I'll explain in the van," she added, to a very bewildered Ratiri. She wasn't actually sure if Thanadir knew the contents of that article, and if not, she didn't want to be the one to clue him in.

"If you say so," Ratiri said, just a touch dubiously. Sorting through the bags to find Lorna's luggage wouldn't take too long, though he dreaded what she might have bought for souvenirs. "We got all the bags out of the van last night, right?"

"Yes," Earlene said. "We put everything in here, just for safekeeping."

Somehow, the cottage didn't have that odd musty smell houses got when they hadn't been occupied for a few days. Lorna was quite sure hers would, so the first thing she'd be doing was open all her windows to air the place out. She'd check in with Big Jamie in the evening, once she'd got everything settled at home and had a chance to just relax for a bit.

Between the two of them, she and Ratiri got all her things stowed. "All right, you lot, I'll be back when you need me," she said. "One'v these nights I'd love to have you all out for dinner at my cottage. Ratiri here can actually cook, so I won't even be poisoning you."

"I would love that," said Earlene, and she meant it. She'd been disappointed, their first time in Baile, to miss out on seeing Lorna's cottage. That sounded so...charming. "We'll be in touch by email at least...drive safely, you two," she teased, as she waved them off with the elves. _Their first trip was really over, now...back to reality_ , she thought.

Earlene turned to Thanadir. "Would you like to go with me into town? I should get Tail, and groceries also. Or I can take my bicycle; it is only if you wish to take a walk," she said. His momentary hesitation was all she needed to see. "I will go on my own, Thanadir. I do not mind," she smiled, and went to change her clothes and deal with her other belongings.

As she approached Mary and Ian's (last stop), she hoped the kitten had left their home intact. An enthusiastic Mary smiled happily as she invited Earlene inside (a good sign), and hustled her into the living room, where Tail was happily asleep on top of Droopy. Her eyes widened, but as no figurines were apparently broken and there were still curtains, she counted it as an acceptable outcome. "How was New York?" Mary gushed, as she offered tea. Earlene declined, citing the need to do a great deal of post-vacation chores but did offer her the news of a possible link to Lorna's family, as well as the Nonna story, knowing it would delight Mary to know that it was possible to overfeed Thanadir. She also promised that they would come to the pub, soon, to share some pictures and stories, before she tucked the sleeping bundle of fur into her bra. Thanks to good planning, this one was not an underwire but rather one of those stretch to fit types; fortunately, her breasts were very firm and she could get by with less support on occasion. _For now_ , she mused, as she bicycled home, _until The Girls transform into udders._

"All right," Ratiri said, once they were safely on the motorway, "you've got to explain the newspaper."

It was a mistake, because Lorna burst out laughing, which didn't make for great driving. "So, Earlene and Thanadir went jogging in Central Park and got mugged, which isn't at all funny," she said. "The _hilarious_ part is that they fought the muggers off - burst their bollocks, actually, they'd been kicked that hard - and the muggers thought Thanadir was a woman. Check out this headline."

Ratiri took the paper from her shoulder-bag, reading the article with increasing disbelief and amusement. It didn't take much for him to dissolve into laughter, too. "That's...that's _priceless_ ," he said, staring at the paper. "Please tell me Thanadir doesn't know this."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't, so don't tell him," Lorna said. "Still not sure how they made that mistake. I mean, yeah, he's got fabulous hair, but any self-respecting mugger would've looked for tits, right?"

"I couldn't say," Ratiri said, trying to rein in his laughter and utterly failing. In truth, he actually could see how someone might mistake Thanadir for a very tall woman in the dark; the Elf did have a rather delicate, androgynous face, and some coked-up half-wit could easily make the wrong assumption. "I'm glad you're home."

"I am, too," she said, and didn't bother fighting a smile. "New York's a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Ireland's home. _Baile's_ home. And Christ, wait 'til you see some'v the pictures I took. I didn't send you all'v them, though you got most'v the best."

"I showed your video of the lions to the pub," he confessed. "Big Jamie laughed so hard I thought he'd choke."

"Why am I not surprised?" Lorna snorted. "Jesus, I thought _I'd_ choke." She paused. "D'you want to stay at the cottage for a bit, once I've got everything unloaded?"

"Of course I do. I've missed you," he said, a little more quietly.

"I missed you, too," she admitted. "It was fun and all, but I don't think I want to go anywhere far again for a while. You don't even know how many times I looked at something and thought you'd love it." It was a bit of an admission to make, but his smile made it worth it.

For the next many days, their routine settled back to something resembling the ordinary. Claire sent word on Monday; Aidan had already been into her office and signed everything, with a notary. And that he'd also marched in with a cashier's check for the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, with the funds being accessible to the attorney, Earlene and Allanah (with stipulations) when she reached twenty-one years of age. Paperwork had already been forwarded to the Office of Children and Family Services. She was recommending to retain counsel in Ireland, as well, since that too would come into play. "Looks like more work for Niamh," she sighed. Well, if there had been any doubt that Aidan was serious about all this, money talked. All of it was forwarded to Niamh, and after a moment's hesitation to Lorna as well, and she reclined back on her sofa.

This was going to be a new chapter. Her days would be spent caring for a child, and then children. She felt eager, ready. And yet, humbled, too. _I am going to have all kinds of help_ , she thought. _So many women have no such thing, which would no doubt transform what should be joy into abject drudgery._ With a sigh, she turned her attention to her bedroom, and frowned. From her gesture of impatience the lid of the laptop snapped shut, and she stood up to take a harder look at the spare room. And her bedroom. And bathroom. None of this would do, but what should there be instead? Who should do the work? That the elves had both the ability and willingness, she did not doubt. But there might be things like home inspections, and code inspectors, and….intrusions. And talented as Thranduil's people were, modern electrical and plumbing were outside of their experience. Her frown deepened. Contractors here would mean disruption and...the more this added up in her mind...she walked to the French doors and looked out. _We might need a whole other home, is what we might need._ She shook her head. This needed a great deal of consideration and planning. There was yet time. But it was already summer, and she did not wish to be building in the dead of an Irish winter.

Thranduil followed her thoughts from across the room, and saw the diversity of considerations in her mind. He sighed. It would be best, to speak first to Thanadir, and then perhaps they all should talk.

Lorna went back to her three days a week at Jamie's, and showed some of her assorted photos at the pub. (Siobhan got a slap upside the head, and a warning that she was going to regret the day she was born.) Mairead had barely dared touch her earrings for fear of breaking them, and Ratiri had been far too delighted with his dinosaur sculptures - he'd had to promise to build them at Lorna's cottage, because Doc Barry refused to have them in her house. Lorna intended for them to live in the Halls, if he wanted them to.

Ratiri helped her with the last finishing touches on her cottage, and one misty Sunday morning, she got an email from Niamh that made her grin. The subject line was "All Systems Go", and it told her that all was ready for Earlene and Thranduil - sorry, _Fionn_ , and it was still so hard to remember that, even after New York - to get married, right down to a date and time at the Baile registrar's office. She forwarded it to Earlene, and glanced around her cottage, because she'd be damned if she'd let anyone else give them a wedding-dinner. A second one. She'd given it a good going-over when she got home, but the kitchen floor could use a wash, and she had to plan out some menu or other for when the lot of them came over. That was what people did, right - plan menus? While she could always ask Mairead for help, she didn't want to. She'd put on her big girl pants and do this herself (okay, she'd ask Ratiri, but it wasn't the same thing. Honest.)

He came over as soon as he was able, bless him. "Don't get too ambitious," he warned, sitting at her kitchen table. "I can't manage very many things myself with any actual level of competence."

"Well, for one thing, we've got Thanadir," she said, sitting across from him. "I'm tempted to head to Kildare for a roast or something. I don't want him going hungry, but good Jesus you should see how much that one can eat. You know how Big Jamie can put away his food? Yeah, Thanadir's got him topped. I only saw him get actually full once, and that was because the gran at this Italian restaurant kept bringing him new dishes. He seemed kind'v disturbed to _be_ full, too."

That in itself was unsettling. "We can get fruit platters, or something," Ratiri said, "but we should at least make the main dish. I can just about manage a roast - Dad left me some recipe I've got in a box."

"You really need a flat," Lorna said, shaking her head.

"I know," he sighed. "One of these days I'll get around to it. But we can do a roast, and get nibbles from Big Jamie and whatever shop we hit in Kildare."

That sounded as good as anything else. While it wasn't Molly's fault Siobhan was such a pervert, Lorna still wasn't inclined to shop at the Market. She also hadn't yet come up with a suitable punishment for Siobhan, though she'd wracked her brain. Sooner or later, something would occur. No doubt Mairead would gladly help with dessert, especially once Lorna told her what Siobhan had given her for a birthday present.

"I've never had a dinner-party," she said. "Not just by myself. I helped Mairead, but I'm forty bloody years old and this is the first dinner party I've ever given. I'm sure that's sad."

"I helped Katherine give one," Ratiri said. "Just one. It was a disaster, but given that we were what, twenty-three? Something like that. It was no wonder it was an epic failure. At least nothing caught fire."

"Lack'v flaming bits is always a good thing," Lorna laughed. "Christ, even going to Kildare sounds like a pain in the arse. It's like I've used up all my store'v 'let's go somewhere' in just five days. Lasg'len's about as far as I'd want to travel, and I've not really been tempted to even go there yet." Unless she was much mistaken, though she'd be back to work out there again soon enough. It was good she'd had a break.

Earlene read her email excitedly. "Thranduil, we can be married now, in Ireland. Niamh's got it all sorted, and Lorna's invited us to take care of that in Baile and have a dinner with her and Ratiri." Then, in a sense of muted awe, "She didn't even tell anyone in town, so we can actually do this with peace and quiet." Her hand traveled down her belly. While it didn't actually matter in the least, there was just something about not wanting to go to the Registrar's Office visibly knocked up. There just...was.

He came behind her to read the email, and bent down to kiss her. "What exactly is involved?"

Earlene frowned. "Well, we bring our identification. Passports would do. We sign some things, and we both declare that we are free to marry each other. Which amounts to, declaring that we are not married to anyone else. Some fee is paid that I'd guess Niamh already cared for and...we recite some vows in front of a court official, sign some more papers, and that's about it, I believe." She thought. "Oh, and we will need two witnesses." They both turned their heads to look at Thanadir. The old elf looked up and smiled.

"Cian would be most honored," he said, "of course."

"What are these vows?" asked Thranduil.

Earlene frowned. "I've no idea," she said, reaching for her computer. But I might in a moment." She scanned and clicked and scanned some more. "From the looks of it, we declare in simple statements that we are free to marry each other, and that we accept each other as husband and wife. After that, it looks like it could almost be...anything at all of our own choosing of suitable….it says here, 'seemliness.' "

"We could speak our vows in our own tongue?" he asked, curious.

Her eyes widened. "I would think, though, it would likely be smiled on if they were also recited in English as well. There are such things?"

"Yes," Thranduil said. "Though the joining of bodies is the defining act of union, there are spoken vows, had we gone about this in a more...planned...fashion. They are not long, or complex. And I would very much like to speak them to you, if you would be willing."

"I would. I will do my best. I suppose it will be easier now that remembering what to say to you was before I knew a word of your language," she laughed softly.

"Yes. And I believe you would find a willing tutor in either of us," he said. The nodding of Thanadir's head gave confirmation.

"Well since I am outnumbered," she chuckled.

"When is this, meluieg?"

"Another good question. It looks like we are at Lorna's good graces on this. Niamh has somehow bypassed the usual notification of intention period and already has an appointment, one I assume we wish to keep. I will ask her what it is? And I can tell her to please not make a fuss?"

Thranduil nodded, pleased, and returned to his reading.

"I think we're good to go," Lorna said. "Bless Niamh, though Jesus we've only got five days' notice, and it's at bloody noon. It's a good thing they don't want anything huge. Christ, I ought to decorate." She actually still had some of the ribbon rosettes Thanadir had made for Earlene and Thranduil's _first_ wedding-party, and there was plenty in bloom in the woods behind her cottage.

"One thing at a time," Ratiri said. "That's the easy part. If we get a roast from Kildare in a day or two, we can marinate it for my Dad's recipe. It has to cook all day, so we'll have to put it in the oven at two in the morning." He did not look forward to that in the least, but the result was always worth it. "Before that, we get a fruit platter and a cheese platter, and whatever else you've got room in your icebox for, so we can actually feed Thanadir."

"You," Lorna said, almost accusatively, "are so calm." She leaned across the table and poked him on the shoulder. "It's not fair."

"I _am_ a doctor," he pointed out, giving her a half grin that made her insides do things she was not yet ready to admit to. "We do sort of have to be."

"Touche," she said. "Thank you, though. For helping me. I'd make a hash'v it on my own."

"You wouldn't, you know," he said, more seriously. "You'd be fine." He paused, reflecting on what he'd seen of her cooking thus far. "Well, all right, not with the roast, but you'd be fine with everything else."

"Gee, thanks," she said, but burst out laughing, unable to feign annoyance. "All right. We'll get this going."

Earlene heard the faint sound of the motor out at the road. "I think she's here," she said excitedly. It seemed a little silly, when they'd been wed now for months, but it still felt natural to look forward to this. They'd manage to do absolutely everything in this relationship out of order. Everything. It was not possible to make up anything so odd….meet (sort of), have sex, whoops we're married (according to Eru but not according to Ireland), celebrate said marriage, conceive children, get married in Ireland. The only thing they might be managing in the proper slot was, adopting Allanah after they were wed in every manner possible, give or take that they'd started that early too. Sort of. _Oh, what does it matter_ , she thought. _I have the most wonderful man I could ever want. Still, this is the only wedding I'll ever have so…._ A loud, cussed outburst in Irish and a slammed door declared that indeed, Lorna had arrived.

Earlene smoothed her hair, into which Thanadir had braided roses. He had also set what were apparently traditional braids into his own and Thranduil's hair; she rather liked them. A lot. The ellyn were always attractive in her eyes, but these added a certain flair that reminded her, a little, of the warriors of some of the Native American tribes. But only a little bit; no face paint, no feathers...for which she was grateful.

"All right, you lot, everything's ready!" Lorna called, making her way into the cottage. "Jesus, Earlene, you look lovely. Everything's set up with the registrar, and I even managed to keep the rest'v the bloody village from finding out about it. That's something'v a feat, in a village like Baile." Ratiri was still looking after the roast, which would come out of the oven once this lot got to the village. So far, nothing seemed to have gone disastrously wrong, but she was keeping her fingers crossed anyway. One never knew, after all.

They loaded up into her van, Earlene double checking that they all had passports and...it occurred to her, they'd forgotten something. "Er, Lorna, we were sort of hoping you might be willing to be one of our witnesses for this ceremony. I think it just means having some kind of ID on you, being willing to declare that we've not got other wives or husbands stashed in a closet and to sign off on the papers. I should've asked sooner and, well, at least we have Thanadir for the other half of this." _You really are slipping, Earlene. Honestly…._ she said to herself. _Is it too early to blame this on hormones?_

Lorna blinked, but rallied. "Sure, I can do that. I doubt Ratiri'll mind watching the roast a bit longer. He doesn't realize he does this, but when I'm in the kitchen, he hovers. It'd be annoying as shit if it wasn't kind'v endearing."

"Ha ha!" said Thanadir, appreciatively, because he decided that this was cute of Ratiri to do. Thanadir liked Ratiri. As they chugged along back to Baile, Earlene sat in back with the seneschal. It was a little weird, but it meant something to her, that Thanadir would be their witness while he wore her da's wedding ring, as he always did. It would be like a little bit of him was with her today. Though, she smiled, he'd like as not roll in his grave to know that his only daughter had quit being a lawyer and married a King of the elves. It just wasn't the sort of thing her family went in for. Gran, however...gran would've loved it. At least, if she could have made it past fearing for her immortal soul and all that stuff; even to the end she had held with her own brand of Catholicism.

For once, Lorna didn't resent driving like a granny. It was a special occasion, after all. Traffic wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible, either, and they made it to Baile without incident - though she did glance at her mobile a few times, praying Ratiri wasn't going to call her and tell her the cottage was on fire because the roast had spontaneously combusted. (She wouldn't be surprised; that recipe had proven more complex than she'd thought or Ratiri had remembered.)

"So I'm sure you all know what's up anyway, without me needing to say anything," she said, as she pulled off the motorway. "You just do you, and Ratiri and I'll give you a good dinner." Yes, even Thanadir. Mairead had been prevailed upon to make a cake, though not told it was a wedding-party cake. So far as she knew, it was just to make Lorna's first time playing solo hostess would be as painless as possible.

They exited the van at what was a very typical looking Civil Registration Service office and entered, feeling slightly clueless. The worst case scenario would be that the entire day would fall apart, which seemed vaguely reassuring. Thranduil and Earlene both removed their wedding rings and handed them to Thanadir, having agreed to at least pretend that they were not already wed for the sake of argument. They went to the correct window and an absolute prune of an older middle aged man glowered at them. Earlene fought down a terrible desire to giggle at him as she explained their purpose and their appointment time. He looked at her as though she were incomprehensible, whereupon Earlene turned to Lorna with a vaguely pleading look.

Lorna fought not to roll her eyes. "They're here for a wedding," she said. "It's all bloody arranged, Donal, don't you try to tell me it's not, unless you've gone and lost the damn paperwork. If you keep bungling shite they'll boot you on your arse, and I'll jam my boot _up_ your arse."

He grumbled something in Irish that she elected not to translate, and gave a vague wave toward a room at the end of the hallway. Lorna, muttering darkly, shook her head and led the little group onward. "Tell Jamie you'll be needing a pint and a charcoal biscuit, you look like shite!" she called behind her.

They stepped into a room that looked about as old as Baile; brickwork, worn wooden floors, and a simple dais with a small table available. The man sourly set out paperwork in neat stacks. "First the bride n' groom sign and date these," he indicated, pulling out something that looked like a stylus or a conductor's baton, take your pick. "Groom first." He tapped the precise location on the document and proffered a pen.

Trying not to smile, Thranduil did as he was asked. Since the original fiasco, he and Thanadir had practiced their assumed signatures a great deal. Some more taps followed. This time Earlene did have the presence of mind to inform them that this was _6-23-16_. Ahead of time, and everything.

"Now, Bride." Earlene smiled at him, convinced that he desperately needed a laxative. She carefully signed her name and added dates, in better than usual handwriting, surprised at how nervous she suddenly felt.

The man who was apparently Donal bent over, made a production of examining the writing and the fields, and then signed his own name to the document, obviously pained that there was nothing amiss.

 _Sure god, he's the anti-Thanadir_ , Earlene thought, as she arched her eyebrow. Terrified as she'd been the day she had to have the seneschal witness her vows to Thranduil, he'd been kinder to her than _this_.

He cleared his throat and leaned over his bifocals, and now launched into a speech he'd like as not made a thousand times. He launched into the purpose of the ceremony blah blah, reminded Lorna and Thanadir about rules regarding taking photographs or video (did it look like Lorna had a camera crew down her top?), and that they were only to throw confetti outside the Service office doors. Earlene fought very, very hard to not roll her eyes. And finally, looking meaningfully at their witnesses, he asked in his best tone of menace: "If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage they should declare it now." He looked back and forth at Lorna and the seneschal three times each, clearly disappointed that no one was saying anything. Lorna just glowered back at him, her eyes threatening something far more unpleasant than murder if he didn't get on with it.

 _He does not approve of males with long hair, meluieg_ , Thranduil offered in an attempt to help Earlene keep her sense of humor. A twitch at the corner of her mouth indicated that it had been a wise choice. While at the same time, she wondered what he _did_ approve of.

"You will please answer the following questions: 'Are you, Fionn, free to lawfully marry Earlene Rhiann?' "

"I am," said Thranduil clearly.

Donal now turned to Earlene, who noted the involuntary twitch at the corner of his eye. "Are you, Earlene Rhiann, free to lawfully marry Fionn?"

"I am."

He seemed satisfied, because now he went back to Thranduil. "Fionn, repeat after me: I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Fionn, take you, Earlene, to be my wedded wife." Which was managed easily.

Earlene too, did the same, after waiting patiently for Donal to drone through it. "I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Earlene, take you, Fionn, to be my wedded husband."

"The groom's ring for the bride?" Donal inquired dourly, looking at Thanadir, who handed it over to Thranduil. "You will place the ring on your bride's finger, and recite your vows." This was his favorite part, because it was usually where he got to watch people flounder.

The King made great efforts to keep his face unflinching, though in truth he rather wanted to bop the man at this point. Thranduil looked at Donal before he made a move, and said rather clearly, "We will be reciting our vows in the language of our people first, then repeating them in English. This is acceptable?" He was taking no chances. At first Donal frowned, but then nodded.

 _More chances for them to muck it up_ , he reasoned.

Thranduil now smiled and turned to Earlene, who blushed as he returned her ring to her hand. He spoke clearly, his eyes locked on hers as he held her hands. "Im Thranduil Oropherion, a Fionn, Aran Eryn Lasgalen, im annon vi meleth uireb anlen. Gur na 'ur, rhonn na ronn, fae na fae; im gwedhon. Lasto i 'weth nîn, Eru Iladar, a mentho i 'alu lîn am ven. I, Fionn, give myself to you in love eternal. Heart to heart, body to body, spirit to spirit; I bind myself to you. Hear my oath, Father of all, and send your blessing upon us."

Earlene smiled, placed his ring on him, and carefully recited the same. They'd had quite a conversation, about these vows. Both felt they should pledge their undying love, for that much would be true. But in a concession to the realities of their union as mortal and immortal, they did not include a declaration that each belonged to the other forever, as elven vows usually would. Out of love for him, Earlene did not wish his chances for future happiness to be impeded, once her time was gone. It was important to Thranduil, too, to speak his vow to Earlene before Eru using his true name, in whose sight they were joined. What was said in English mattered far less to them, and as for what was said in Sindarin; this officious dimwit would never know the difference.

Donal, now clearly annoyed that no mistakes were made, grudgingly said a few more words before finally stating, "I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Thanadir and Lorna politely clapped, and as Thranduil claimed his kiss, Earlene could have sworn she saw Lorna's foot lash out and kick Donal's shin. This seemed supported somewhat by the fact that the lemon-puckered man began clapping as well. They were allowed exactly fifteen seconds before with another glare, he took out his stylus once again and presented a new round of papers for the signing of the Register.

Lorna had decided that Donal was going to be very, very unhappy next time he went to the pub - if he was smart, he'd delay that for a while. She glowered openly at him, silently promising retribution before looking at Thanadir and rolling her eyes. Oh, if only she could communicate with _him_ telepathically; whatever he was thinking about Donal was probably gold. The man was the worst sort of bureaucrat one was ever likely to find, and she wondered just what kind of fight he'd had with Niamh over this. It had probably been at least semi-epic.

The signed everything, multiple times, and were told that their official certificate of marriage would arrive in the mail (they did get a decorative one to take with them right now) but really barely heard that part. Earlene simply felt very happy, in spite of the surreal ceremony (that was almost to be expected, anymore). Thranduil was hers now, in every way possible, acknowledged by her world as well as his. Though it had been a formality, she glowed with contentment, remembering her manners long enough to thank both Lorna and Thanadir for being their witnesses.

"You're welcome, you two," Lorna said. "Now c'mon - there's tea that's actually dinner at my cottage, if Ratiri's not burned it down with that roast." That was that now, for them - they'd have a piece of paper and everything. She'd had hers and Liam's laminated, but they'd probably do something classier, like actually frame it.

She led them all back down the steps and out to the van. "I want pictures, too. You'll look brilliant in the trees out behind the cottage." With part of her ridiculous salary, she'd bought herself a Nikon digital camera, so she could take actual professional-ish pictures. It would be put to good use now.

"That would be lovely," Earlene said, still in a rose-colored haze. "Besides, I'd far rather have photos without that prune of a solemnizer in them. Where on earth did he come from? You know him?"

"Everyone who's ever had to deal with the registry office knows Donal," Lorna snorted. "Apparently my gran tanned his hide as a boy for getting into her vegetables, and now he hates Mairead, me, and anyone remotely connected to us. So, sorry about that." She tried not to laugh. She really, really did, but she utterly failed as she fired up the engine. "Word round the pub is that he hasn't taken a shit since nineteen-seventy-two."

"You've got my official encouragement to get the man a batch of Ex-Lax mint chip ice cream. Send me the bill," she said drily. They puttered a long, Lorna being in excellent humor, until they pulled up to a charming cottage in a woodsy area, the sort with predominantly birch and beech.

Lorna snorted. "Christ but it's tempting," she said, parking out beside the cottage. Nothing smelled like it was burning, which was an encouraging sign. She led the three of them around to the front door, which was standing open and letting in the summer sunshine.

"Oh Lucy, we're home!" she called, in a rather terrible attempt at a Desi Arnaz accent. "Everything still in one piece?"

"Astonishingly, yes," Ratiri said, giving them all a wave. The kitchen was fairly cramped to have so many people in it, so they'd turned it sideways, letting it stick out toward the lounge. Every single surface had been scrubbed and/or polished, so the hardwood floor gleamed like new. The rafters were, mercifully, just high enough that Thranduil wasn't going to have to bend to avoid cracking his head, and she'd thought to remove the bunches of dried herbs that usually hung from them, so he could avoid getting smacked in the face by lavender. "Everything's just about ready. All we have to do is take the fruit and cheese out, and we can dish the roast whenever we feel like. Has anybody got tea preferences?" Lorna had multiple canisters, all loose-leaf, because Gran had considered bagged tea an abomination not fit for human consumption.

"I like most kinds," Earlene said. "Maybe nothing with much licorice taste, though?" She smoothed out her dress even though it didn't need smoothing, and wove her arm around her husband's waist, pulling him close.

Thranduil smiled, and put his arm around her. He had done enough reading, enough looking at photos, to know far more about what mortal weddings could be like since the day he'd first asked her about them. Very elaborate, fancy, beautiful parties they were; ones that reminded him more of the formal affair when he'd wedded Alassëa. And Earlene could have had similar, but none of that had mattered to her. All her excitement, all of what she'd truly enjoyed today, was that he belonged to her, and she to him. His heart swelled to think of how he loved her. Later, he had a little surprise of his own planned. But for now, he leaned down to kiss her head, careful to not crush any of the red blossoms that beautified her dark hair.

Ratiri busied himself with the tea while Lorna led the other three into the lounge. The afternoon sunlight played off the row of prisms hung across the top of the window, casting little rainbows over the stone walls and the tall, oak china cupboard Granddad had built for Gran when they married. Between the sofa and armchair she already owned (still so freshly reupholstered in 1940's-period brocade), she'd only had to borrow one extra armchair from Mairead, so all the taller people actually had somewhere to sit. "You pick your spots, the lot'v you," she said. "I'll get the nibbles out. Mairead's made a cake for afters."

Earlene chuckled at Thanadir's broad smile. She would make herself eat some, but honestly didn't feel that hungry. It truly surprised her, that she felt like a teenager in love right now, and how much the quirky but very real ceremony had meant to her. But Lorna and Ratiri had obviously worked very hard at fixing them a treat, and she would stuff herself, to the best of her ability. Earlene chose a chair better suited for a smaller person, leaving the better options for the ellyn and Ratiri.

Lorna brought out the fruit and cheese platters, setting them on the coffee-table along with a stack of Gran's china plates (white bone china, that Gran had freely admitted had been stolen by some relative working in England in the 1890's). "The roast's just about out, but it's got to cool before we can actually dig in. I've got wine, Guinness, and a bottle'v what's either poítin or paint thinner, but I _think_ it's poítin. I drank it last night and didn't go blind, anyway, so there's a good sign." She was mostly teasing. Mostly.

The kettle screamed, and Ratiri followed her with a tray bearing mugs, tea strainers, and an assortment of leaves. "I stuck with softer things," he said. "This is Irish Breakfast, and this one's some kind of lemongrass, I think. Lorna doesn't keep her jars labeled."

"I like to mix them up and play Tea Roulette in the morning," she said seriously. "Dish up, the lot'v you," she added, though it was Thanadir she looked at.

Earlene decided that Random Lemongrass had its merits, and tried for that one. She was not going anywhere near anything that might be paint thinner. Just, no. While her peredhel children were doubtless hardy, she was not about to test that on anything Lorna could not identify, thank you very much. Thranduil began filling his plate from the trays, gesturing for Thanadir to do the same. Earlene passed her plate to her husband with silent requests, which he happily cared for. _The way his eyes look, today...good grief, you've got a bad case of it_ , she teased herself. Thanadir was making what looked remarkably like a Dagwood sandwich out of cheese slices and fruit, much to Ratiri's amusement.

"So, if you're willing, I'd love to get some pictures'v you lot in the trees out back," Lorna said, while Ratiri went to deal with the roast. "I've been working on a scrapbook for months now - two, actually, one for me and one for you. Even if nobody in the village'll ever know it, it's the first elf wedding we've ever had, and it ought to be commemorated." She filled the strainer and stuck it in the teapot, checking to see everyone had napkins and the like. She'd seen Mairead do this dozens of times over the years; she could handle this 'hostess' thing. It made her feel like a real grown-up (at forty bloody years old); she'd had her own home for several years now, but it had really still mostly been Gran's. Working on it made it truly _hers_ , and the fact that she'd done much of the work by hand only made it more so.

It would never compare to Thranduil's grand Halls, nor would anything within it, but it was hers. She'd had so little to truly call her own for most of her life, but she had a home and a car and a life not entirely confined to Baile. She had a situation a great deal of Tolkien nerds might literally murder her for (apparently there was this thing called fan fiction that, given that she actually _knew_ elves, she wasn't going to touch with a ten-foot pole). She had Ratiri, who somehow managed to be the most gorgeous yet utterly dorky man she had ever known, sweet and yet as awkward as she was herself. And for once, finally, she could let herself be happy without being afraid it would be taken away from her.

They went outside and took several variations on every kind of photograph. Group photos, individual photos (Thanadir was shown how to operate the camera to take some of Lorna with her friends). And then much to Earlene's surprise, some "artsy" shots of her and Thranduil holding hands, looking at each other, and even one that involved a tasteful kiss. Lorna had laid heavy emphasis on the word 'tasteful,' which caused the couple to burst into good-natured laughter. Earlene found herself looking at the trees again and again, when a completely outrageous idea popped into her head; something she'd seen on the Internet. Later she took Lorna aside, and the words 'dinosaur' and 'Photoshop' were among those whispered quietly. Lorna's face immediately brightened in a grin of pure mischief as she nodded. Without more explanation Lorna set them up for one more photo, this time with the camera on a timer. "When I say 'Go', everyone act like you're running toward the house. Don't ask why, just do it." The shutter clicked, and she was satisfied with the result. Finally, they were allowed back indoors.

The roast, Ratiri pronounced, was done to perfection, and Lorna was happy to let him and his surgeon's hands dissect it. (He was a doctor, she had to call it 'dissection', dammit.) It certainly smelled perfect, spicy and rich; she'd hope so, given the effort that went into the damn thing.

"Well, what d'you think'v my cottage?" she asked. "There's more to it, but not much more. I had a new bathroom put on so I could have a proper tub, though I'll never match anything in the Halls." She'd got the table itself set, inviting everyone to sit wherever they felt like, brewing more tea while she brought Mairead's cake over as well.

"I like it here very much, Lorna," said Thanadir, admiring the furnishings. He could see that by mortal standards, many of these objects were a little older; unlike the shiny new and very artificial objects in their New York hotel room. Here he could recognize real wood, and fabrics; the same kinds of materials he himself would choose. He ran his hand admiringly along the oaken cupboard. "This is very well-made," he said. Which coming from an elf, was high praise indeed.

Thranduil gently ruffled her hair as he walked past. "Your home is lovely, Lorna. I will no longer worry about where you dwell, when you cannot be with us. To be here feels...wholesome," he said, gazing approvingly around at not only the construction but the nearby trees as well.

Earlene simply nodded, unable to improve much on what the others had said. Though she did add one thing. "It's incredibly special, to have your family's home. Everything is charming, and doubly so because it means something to you."

Lorna did a slight double-take; she hadn't realized Thranduil worried about her when she was not with them. Maybe they really were a bit more similar than he was willing to let on, because that was very much something she would do. "Great-great-Grandda was stonemason," she said, turning this new knowledge over in her mind. "It's probably the only reason the family's still here, and not America. Well, that and Mairead and I are pretty sure Great-great-Gran killed the tax man, but Gran never would confirm one way or other. Given that she chased the next generation's tax man off her lawn with Grandda's shotgun, I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. Great-great-Grandda built this table not long after he built the cottage - it's over a hundred years old. He didn't like working with wood so much, as I understand it, but it didn't stop him. He did the floors, too, and the garden-wall out back. Gran always kept a vegetable garden, but I've not been so great about that myself." Which was just as well, given that she often spent days on end away from home now. "I had all the wiring redone, since it was older than my Mam."

"And that was one of the few things we didn't do ourselves," Ratiri added, bringing out a bottle of wine and glasses. "That and most of the plumbing."

"I would very much like to see your garden, later on," piped Thanadir, though he was largely ignored beyond a nod and a word of promise from Ratiri.

"Funny you mention that," said Earlene. "I'm finding that I am in the beginning stages of thinking about what to do with my own cottage. A year from now, there will be three children added to our family, and while one extra room as a nursery might do for a short time, that won't last for long. Nothing about how the cottage is used now fits the original plan, which was simply for me to live there alone. I'm thinking about remodeling, I'm thinking about adding on, and I'm even thinking about whether a whole other home might make better sense. And while I'm no less capable than you, I worry about the government busybodies that will maybe want to keep their noses in Allanah's welfare. I'd prefer it if the elves cared for all of it, but somehow things like 'building inspector' and 'code violations' and other annoyances keep coming to mind. Yet I'll be damned if any 'modern' home is being built on that parcel," she groused.

Thranduil still offered no comment; Earlene trusted their relationship enough by now that if he had firm desires or directions, that he would speak.

Her tone was so sour that Lorna almost choked on her slice of roast. "Let me look into it," she said, trying not to laugh. Of course she utterly failed. "I'm sure I can find you a construction company that'll give you what you're looking for. You don't want some big outfit - you'll be wanting a family business, I think, but if they're licensed and bonded, any government busybodies ought to be satisfied. I...oooh, there's an idea."

"Your tone makes me less than sanguine," Ratiri said, and he did indeed look rather wary. "You don't usually sound like that unless you're about to do something...less than advisable."

"You mean 'stupid'?" she asked, grinning at him. "No, this isn't stupid. My mate Orla - she's another from the old gang - her legit business is construction. If you write me up the general specs of what you want, I'll pass it to her and see if she can do it. If not, she probably knows someone who can."

"Do I even want to ask what her _non_ -legit job is?" Ratiri asked.

"Computer hacking. She's got more money than God, but she has to have some demonstrable way'v earning it. She did her stint in prison, too, and decided she liked both computers and building shite. Odd combo, but she's an odd one."

"You're kidding," said Earlene, sipping from her wine appreciatively. "This could serve more than one purpose. While I'm not technologically illiterate, neither am I remotely at the level of people like that. I'll be honest, since the minute we got that creeper's name in New York, I've been tempted to search him, but, I've not done it. I desperately want to know that anything I might try to do from the cottage can't be traceable, and I know just enough about computers to realize that savvy, wealthy people with unusual aptitudes might have the means to do just that. I worry about that man finding us, for all I know Thranduil protects everything inside his borders. He already knows we're in Ireland, and my name, which is bad enough. I don't want to be the one who left the trail of crumbs, so to speak."

"She'd take that as a challenge," Lorna said. "Trust me, Orla's...well, as I say, she's an odd one. She'll do something just to prove that she can. She's the one who does all Niamh's and Shane's systems, and Niamh especially needs a secure one." She twitched a little, pouring herself some wine and knocking it back. She still hadn't got over being so skeeved out by that son of a bitch's pale eyes. He probably _had_ wanted to turn her skin into a person-suit. (Except he'd need like three more peoples'-worth, or he'd get, like, person-shorts.)

"Who is this creeper?" Ratiri asked.

"Some bloke we met at Earlene's fancy lawyer-party," Lorna said, "except he's not a bloke, because he's not human." She looked at Thranduil, who was the one who actually knew what he was talking about.

Thranduil sighed. This conversation was inevitable, and, it was perhaps overdue, given how many days they had been home. "You asked me when we first revealed ourselves to you, Ratiri, whether or not there were other beings still on earth from the earlier ages of this world. I told you I did not know, which was true. But when in New York, we encountered one of those beings. A _raug_ , or perhaps better known to you as a _balrog_." He held up his hand at the look of wide-eyed horror that greeted him. "These words do not only mean those who took on the form of shadow, and flame, for as you likely know they were of the Maiar; their physical forms were often only bodily manifestations. What defined them was their spiritual corruption on entering the service of Morgoth. This one had taken on the form of a human man, but there was no mistaking its power or its menace. It was the last thing I ever expected to encounter. He recognized Thanadir and I immediately for what we were, for he spoke it to me in my thoughts. We left the party at once, but I would be naive to think that the encounter was the last of it. Though, a part of me very much hopes it was just that. Earlene obtained the name of this man before she left from one of her associates; beyond that, we have taken no further action."

Ice seeped through Ratiri's veins. If such a thing was still wandering around on Earth, it wasn't just going to let the Elves alone. Not unless something else diverted its attention, and what could possibly do that? Nothing. But, so far as Tolkien had ever written, killing a balrog had also meant the death of all but one of those who killed it. That, however, was with swords; surely modern weaponry could give them some kind of edge. He hoped. "You found a balrog," he said, rather helplessly, "in New York City. You found a _balrog_ …how do we kill it?" It was, he was sure, the only way to deal with the damn thing, because once it found them, if it found them, it wasn't going to just go away.

"Bit like a zombie, that one," Lorna said, shaking her hair and pouring more wine. "Those eyes'v his...Jesus bloody Christ. Wouldn't've been surprised if he'd followed me into the toilet, broken my neck, and eaten my brain."

Thranduil smiled. If nothing else, his mortal friends had...how did the humans say it?...grit. "You are not quite correct. They can be killed; Tuor of Gondolin killed a number of them and he yet lived. And, I can do nothing, unless it seeks us out. I will not go searching for it, beyond educating ourselves as to what it is doing in the human world. My duty is clear; it is to protect my people. Should it indeed come to us, though, we are not defenseless. And yet he is a foe beyond mortals. He is dangerous, if only because he can hear your thoughts as easily as I. And unlike me, who would never search your minds deeply without your explicit consent, I very much doubt if he would have any such scruples. Earlene is protected from such intrusion by her necklace; at the party, he could not access her mind. But the necklace acts as it does on account of the bond Earlene and I share; I do not have any means of shielding others unless they are in physical contact with me."

"Yeah, well, trust me, all he got off me was how creepy I thought he was," Lorna said, dishing herself up more roast. Christ was it good. "I mean, I said your name, but you know how much I mangle that on a daily basis as it is. Otherwise I just wanted out'v there before I sicked up everything I'd eaten. Which would've been a damn shame, given how good that Scotch was." Because of course Lorna had her priorities.

"I can't...bloody hell." Ratiri wasn't sure what to do with that little piece of information. "What's he been _doing_ all this time?" It was not at all a pertinent question, and yet he wondered.

"That's what Orla'll find out," Lorna said. "If his name's attached to it, she'll find it." She wasn't certain she wanted to know, since she wouldn't be surprised if it involved torturing small baby animals for no actual reason.

"If John Oehlert thinks he's a piece of work, that's all I need to hear about his character," said Earlene. "And that he was even there tells me that whatever he is doing, he is doing it at the pinnacle of wealth and influence and likely in a way that bodes no good for anyone."

"Well that's brilliant. Can't say I'm sorry we've got the Atlantic between us and them." Lorna shook her head, smiling a little. "Aren't you glad my accent's so thick I can't even pronounce your name right?" she asked Thranduil. "Hard to figure your name out when I don't even say 'thran' right."

He chuckled, with a twinkle in his eye. "You may never hear me admit this again, because you do rather drink more than I would wish, but that and your significant level of inebriation were doubtless a salvation of sorts. I can imagine that whatever he tried to find within you, what he actually took away was particularly unsatisfying. I confess I find that aspect of the encounter extremely amusing." His open appreciation of Lorna being Lorna was unmistakable.

"That reminds me," said Earlene. "I have two emails to forward to you, which I confess I've sat on for a few days for purely selfish reasons. Two different people from the party want to hire you. They'd move you, all expenses paid, to New York, and pay you obscene amounts of money. Your management of the drunken spectacle of Iris attracted a great deal of favorable notice," she said, before adding in much softer words, "it's just that I'd be sick if you left. But you deserve to decide that for yourself."

Thranduil's eyebrows arched. This had escaped his attention entirely, and a very worried expression darkened his own face, before he had the presence of mind to dissemble.

Lorna laughed, though she sobered at Earlene's words, genuinely nonplussed. Rich people, she decided, really _were_ weird - but then, they didn't know what she'd actually _said_ to Iris. "I doubt they'd be thinking so favorably'v it if they knew I'd told her her husband had married her for her tits," she said, shaking her head. "Earlene, don't take this the wrong way, but you couldn't pay me enough to live in New York. It's nice to visit, but I'd go mad within a fortnight if I actually _lived_ there. You lot're family to me now, even if it's in no normal way. Christ, I need to do some digging, actually, because you and I might _actually_ be family, somewhere back up the tree." It warmed her in ways she couldn't express - of course, because she couldn't use her damn words - that Earlene thought so of her. "I'm not going anywhere."

They didn't carry on, but the look of unabashed relief on the part of both Thranduil and Earlene was unmistakable. No one was certain Thanadir had even heard the conversation, because he was extremely occupied with his food. They enjoyed all of the food, and the cake was another evolution of Mairead's talents. Earlene definitely ceded credit to this woman; she might be a touch annoying but sure god she knew her way around a cake. Thanadir went with Ratiri to look at the garden, and tilted his head. "I could help, with this," he said. "If it would be welcome. Then you could have vegetables while there is good weather." The idea was greeted with extreme enthusiasm.

When they were done, Earlene sighed. "This has been such fun, but I feel we should get out of your hair. It's an hour back and then another hour for you to return." Wistfulness came over her. "We really need another movie night. That was so much fun."

Thranduil groaned. "Was not every night in New York a movie night? You two are dangerous. We need a film for which you do not have all the dialogue memorized."

Earlene looked at him blankly, but Lorna saw this as some manner of challenge. ""I haven't got anything going tomorrow," she said. "Movie night'd be grand tonight, if you'd like. With your wine," she added to Thranduil, "which you promised we could have if you gave it to us." She gave him rather shameless kitty eyes - she doubted she could top Thanadir, but still. She could try.

Thranduil's eyes widened while Earlene suppressed giggles. Ratiri piped up. "I've no plans tomorrow either. But what's the problem with a 'movie night'? I feel like I'm missing something," he said affably.

"I would really like that, to keep on celebrating awhile longer with our friends," she said to Thranduil. Her voice was respectful but her wishes were very clear.

The King sighed. "Valar preserve me, I can see I am outnumbered. May I at least know the movie you wish to view?"

"Jurassic Park," grinned Lorna, without a minute's hesitation.

Thranduil's eyebrows knitted together. "And that is about…?"

"Dinosaurs," said Earlene. "Like the ones we saw in the museum. It is a very good movie and I promise you that I only know two quotes. At least, I think that's all…" she trailed off.

Thanadir's face broke into unrestrained enthusiasm. "I would very much like to see dinosaurs," he said to Thranduil, with a note of pleading.

"Very well," he relented, though his smile ruined his attempts at sternness.

With five of them, the sofa was strained to capacity but they made it work. Earlene made popcorn for them, and brought out cookies she'd made and frozen previously. Tea was provided all around, and they were ready to begin. Lorna was crammed precipitously between Ratiri and Thranduil, who were both obviously trying to not crush her. Earlene perched somehow on the elves' laps in a configuration that looked improbable but was one with which they obviously had some comfort level. Lorna raised her eyebrows at them, but as the alternative was to be in a different chair at a ninety degree angle to the screen, she remained silent. _This place really does need to be bigger_ , she thought. If it was this crammed now, she didn't want to think about what it would be like with three toddlers. But there was nothing else for it, it was a cottage, and no better configuration was going to be possible under the current circumstances.

As promised, Thranduil retrieved and prepared the wine for Lorna and Ratiri, offering Ratiri what amounted to five drops of it undiluted for him to taste.

It was, Ratiri discovered, by far the most delicious liquor he had ever tried in his life, not too sweet but not bitter, rich as chocolate.

"Be careful with it," Lorna warned. "It'll hit you like a brick. Wrapped in lemon."

His eyebrows rose. "I see what you did there," he said, while she sipped, very carefully, at her own.

"You can also expect to feel a bit stoned, as well as drunk," she said. "Which is bloody odd, because it's not _quite_ like feeling stoned, but close."

Ratiri eyed his glass. "I would love to do a chem analysis on this stuff."

"Meluieg," Thranduil said, "I must give you a choice. Because of the strength of this and your pregnancy, I must either dilute this to the point of being what you would feel is lightly flavored water, or you must do without, or choose a mortal alcoholic beverage. I am sorry."

Earlene shook her head. "Thank you, but I am fine with tea. I expected to not have anything at all, so what you have allowed me has been a treat. Do not worry. It is worth the inconvenience," she said, her eyes full of love.

The King kept back more of what he had prepared for his friends, while offering some to Thanadir, who declined. Not wishing to consume what they could not have in front of them, he too opted for just tea. "Here we go," said Earlene cheerfully, as she pressed the button on the remote.

The alcohol was already doing enough of its job that Lorna didn't mind so much being squashed while the offloading of the velociraptors went terribly wrong. "God, so I saw this in the cinema, and this whole opening freaked me right out," she said. "I mean, what a way to go."

"It was probably fast," Ratiri said, "if the thing got his leg. Cut a femoral artery and you're bled out inside of seven minutes."

"Yeah, assuming it didn't eat his spleen before then." Yes, she was already nice and warm and kind of floaty.

"I could never figure out how they screwed up so badly," Earlene said. "A bazillion staff, hydraulic equipment, enough weapons to quell a military coup, and one...you know...still does all that?" She broke off. "Ha ha! The lawyer. You know, he has a lousy suit."

"He rather does," Ratiri said, with a level of disapproval that made him laugh, given the state of his own wardrobe. "He must not be a very good lawyer, for all he works for some random rich people. His suit doesn't even fit right."

"It was the nineties," Lorna pointed out. "Everyone wore their clothes too big. The real question is why the hell he was wearing a suit out there to begin with."

Earlene giggled. "Sadly, it's expected. If you're an attorney, that's what people feel you should look like, just like Ratiri probably has to wear a lab coat or scrubs. One time, I had to tour a rendering plant in a suit and heels. You don't even want to know. Though at least I had the brains to wear my cheapest one, because there was no getting the smell back out of it, ever."

Lorna wrinkled her nose. "Oh God…"

"This bloke's a bit of a spoon, though," Ratiri said. "Given what happens to him, and all."

"Spoon?" Lorna asked. "Does that mean the same in Scotland as it does here?"

"I don't know. There it means someone so stupid they can't be trusted with sharp objects," he replied.

She burst into a fit of giggles that she had to muffle against his shoulder. "Yup," she said, still muffled. "Same thing."

"Hush!" hissed Thranduil, who was in reality trying to work out what in Eru a chaotician was supposed to be. Earlene giggled, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. And because that side of his face was hidden from Lorna, she also took a second to flick her tongue against the edge of his ear. This seemed to distract him, for a moment, because he shot her a sidewise look that warned her she might not wish to light that fire just yet. _We would not wish to be unseemly, meluieg._ But his voice held affection, and humor. She squeezed his arm.

That only made Lorna giggle harder, though she mostly muffled it against Ratiri's T-shirt. "Rock star," she muttered. "Except, y'know, nerdy." The lift of the helicopter, and then the drop, made her twitch a bit, just because she could only imagine how freaky that would be in reality. Christ, she loved this music, too...so epic. Though why they focused on the arse of the guy opening the helicopter door once it landed, she didn't know. Especially since it was in baggy khaki, and its owner in a salmon-pink polo shirt.

But when the lot of them saw that first dinosaur...it had given her chills in the theater, and even yet it still did a bit. They sure as fuck knew how to shoot scenes back then. "Though of course the blood-sucking lawyer thinks they'll make a fortune with it."

"Sadly, that's what they pay us to do. Though, _that_ guy totally had shares of stock in the place. It's the only thing that could explain that level of enthusiasm," she opined.

"That, or cocaine," Ratiri said, entirely deadpan, but lost it when Lorna did, bursting out laughing. At least he mastered it before she did. "And even though all of this science is essentially junk, it _sounds_ so good." It had pulled him in entirely as a teenager, before he knew better, and even now he was willing to suspend his disbelief.

"Life finds a way," said Earlene.

Thranduil glared at her.

"I said I knew two quotes," she said softly. "Don't I get my two quotes?" Her cheek nuzzled against his.

A sigh of mild exasperation was his only answer, but there was a smirk along with it.

"The bloodsucking lawyer!" Earlene said.

Thranduil turned his head and kissed her soundly, running out of ways to silence his mortal.

 _But that was the second one_ , she protested, while pondering the silliness of such a desirable form of discipline.

"Grant and these kids...poor bloke," Ratiri said. "He's got no idea, and they know it. I just can't get over Samuel L. Jackson. I retroactively keep expecting him to say something about motherfucking snakes on a motherfucking plane."

Lorna dissolved into laughter again, finishing her glass. "Thanks for that. Christ, though, the T-Rex...I just about pissed myself in the cinema. I think everyone else did, too."

Thranduil rolled his eyes and poured them more wine. Perhaps _that_ would stop them talking. Though he was careful to not give too much more.

The scene where the lawyer ran into the toilet stall began, which was perhaps the most exquisite humor in the film, but Earlene felt her body tense involuntarily. All these years later and that T rex looked very, very real still. Thanadir recoiled, the moment the animal broke through the roof of the car, tightening his hold on her. Somehow, she did not mind. It did not get spoken aloud, out of regard for her husband, but all she could think was, _that man's got stainless steel balls, to actually attract that thing toward himself. And from a man who says he doesn't like kids._ She wished she could reassure Thanadir, but could do little more than hold onto his arms. Having not warned him about the 'suspense' genre, this would be quite the next hour.

Lorna really didn't wonder why those children looked so fucking terrified. With that thing bearing down on her, she would, too, whether it was real or not. Thranduil didn't seem predisposed to enjoy commentary on this one, so she leaned up enough to whisper to Ratiri, "That thing cost like half the film's budget, and some'v the circuits got wet filming, so every so often when it wasn't being used it would move on its own, and you'd hear some random person screaming bloody fucking murder."

Ratiri smothered a laugh, but barely, and eventually it bubbled over anyway, though he tried to muffle it in her hair. "I'd brick it," he said quietly, and then both of them had to fight the giggles.

The film ran on, and then came the other sequence that always gave Earlene hives; the velociraptors in the kitchen. Of all of the uncomfortable ideas in life, being hunted by an alpha predator was among the worst. It gave her a sudden and unusual sympathy for rats; things that killed and ate other things were not known for their compassion or consideration for methodology. The shudder that went through her brought Thanadir's hand up to rub gentle circles into her back. Which was not what she wished him to feel compelled to do, but it was very pleasant nonetheless. And finally the damn thing got locked in the freezer.

"Fair play on those kids," Lorna said. "I'd've pissed myself and got eaten by now. Y'know, those raptors were all lads in suits? I saw a picture once'v someone in all of it but the feet. They had trainers on instead. It was surreal, to say the least."

"Yeah, but if it'd really happened, think of the therapy bills," Earlene mumbled.

This time Thranduil did not rebuke his wife. Even though none of it was real, it was _very_ realistic. Finally the end came, with the final scene of the fearless but rather outmatched velociraptors attacking the tyrannosaur, and the banner "When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth" floating down past it in a last, supreme irony.

It was nearing dusk when they hauled themselves off the sofa. Earlene pushed some fruit and cheese at her clearly happy guests. She envied their enjoyment of the wine, but that would just have to wait. As it was, they were very cute to watch. Taking little Tail along with them, they began the walk toward the Halls.

Lorna, giggling and not quite steady, wove her way along beside an equally unsteady Ratiri. It was early yet; they needed to watch another movie, but what? "Has anyone else seen _Mad Max: Fury Road_ yet?" she asked of the world in general.

"I love that movie," Ratiri said. "And apparently most of it was actual practical effects."

"Which would be why it actually looked real. I want a guitar that shoots flames," Lorna said, almost wistfully.

"I hope I won't offend if I take a pass on that one," quipped Earlene, for which Thranduil felt most grateful. Thanadir kept near to the mortals, to ensure no one fell. At the Halls, this was more so; each of the ellyn rather insisted on offering their arms to Lorna and Ratiri, respectively on the arching walkways so far above the ground. Which while perhaps not completely necessary, was definitely in the "safe not sorry" category.

"So, my laptop still should be pretty charged," Lorna said, still feeling so rosy and at one with the world. "I just wish I had better speakers. We'll have to watch it in my cottage someday. I stuck the TV and the sound system in my room, so I wouldn't ruin the lounge with modern shite. I've got enough bass to shake the roof off."

"That," Ratiri said, a little muzzily, "sounds like too much fun. Annoying, but fun."

"You lot have fun," Lorna said, once they'd reached safety away from the aerial walkways. She gave them something that was a bastard cross between a wave and a salute. "We won't burn the caverns down, I promise."

Thranduil rolled his eyes but continued on his way with Earlene, clearly having other interests on his mind. That and, even Lorna could not burn down a stone cavern. He hoped. Thanadir had disappeared to places unknown, for he was nowhere now to be seen.

Getting through the door was more difficult than it ought to have been, because Lorna's fingers seemed to have all the dexterity of sausages. Once inside, she managed to light the lamps without setting anything on fire, and poked up the fire itself. (How had it not gone out? Did some elf just come in and poke it up periodically throughout the day? Wouldn't surprise her.)

"How did you manage New York?" Ratiri asked, while she hunted her laptop down, opening it and bringing up the movie. "I mean, you're so…"

"Don't say it," she warned, pointing at him. "Don't even."

"But you _are_ …"

Setting the laptop aside, Lorna hopped up onto her bed, standing to face him. Like this, she was actually rather taller than him. "You were saying?" she asked, poking him in the chest.

"You're still tiny," he said.

"No, you're just the size'v a tree. You and the elves, it's not natural." She sat, pulling her laptop across the mattress, and Ratiri sat with her.

"You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the one that looked like an elf," he admitted, shifting her pillows so he could lean against the headboard. "You were like some fae that snuck into the human world, but you couldn't quite mask what you were."

Lorna looked at him and burst out laughing. Oh, the irony… "Why fae?" she asked, fussing with the other pillows.

"Because you're tiny," he said. "And your eyes don't belong anywhere near a human face. And all this hair...that was before I realized you were essentially Cousin It when it was free."

That only made her laugh harder - hard enough that she lost her balance and crashed into him, knocking her forehead against his. "Cousin It?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, you're a very _pretty_ Cousin I-"

Lorna attacked his sides before he could finish, tickling everywhere her small fingers could reach. Ratiri rewarded her by flailing, utterly helpless. "I'll wee myself if you don't stop," he said - or rather, gasped, his breath stolen by laughter. "This bed's too nice to be wee'd in."

She sporfled, giving up, giggling so hard she had a stitch in her side. "True. Wee in your own bed."

"I'd rather not wee in anyone's," he managed, still chuckling. "Just, on principle. Wee's not actually sterile, you know. It's filled with bacteria."

"And that is the single least romantic thing anyone has ever said to me," Lorna said, too drunk to realize what had actually come out of her mouth. "Hey Ratiri? Would you be pissed if I kissed you?" Aaaand _that_ was out of her mouth, too.

He looked at her, and though his grey eyes were somewhat clouded with alcohol, they were still clear enough. "Pissed? I'll only tell you I've wanted to kiss you for the last two months if you'll promise you won't thump me for it."

"You," she said, suddenly feeling very warm, "just did." And yet she hesitated. "Um. So, I haven't done this in almost twelve years, and not _too_ often before that. I mean, Liam and I, since we traveled, a lot'v the time there wasn't much in the way'v privacy-"

Ratiri leaned over and shut her up - rather handily, with a kiss.

It was a rusty kiss, hesitant, and yet it did all sorts of very pleasant things to her insides. "It's been fifteen years for me," he said. "I think we're both in the same boat."

Lorna ran her fingers through his hair - Christ it was soft, with a slight wave to it, black as coal. "Then let's see if we can work this out."

At least they managed to get the laptop out of the way, though there was quite a bit of fumbling and laughter, culminating in her braid somehow getting caught in his fly. They had to put everything on hold to rescue it, because even drunk, Lorna wasn't letting scissors anywhere near her head. She didn't have sexy lingerie - plain boy shorts and a sports bra she probably didn't need - but he didn't seem to care. Rusty he might be, but Ratiri was a doctor; he had very deft hands, and he learned fast. Granted, not without issue.

" _Jesus_ , that tickles - no, wait - that's better. Oh _damn,_ that's better."

"How can that tickle? Just... _how_?" he asked, disbelieving.

"My nerve endings're weird. C'mere - you taste good. I think the wine tastes even better when it's second-hand."

Ratiri laughed. "Somehow, that is the most erotic yet disgusting thing I've ever heard."

"Shut it," Lorna said, dragging him down for another inexpert kiss.

"Bossy, aren't you?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "You've got _no_ idea."

Thranduil smiled, as Thanadir took his leave, and took his wife to their rooms, where they sat by the fire. "You are happy, meluieg?"

Earlene nodded, looking into his eyes before she spoke. "I did not know it was possible to love anyone as I love you, Thranduil. If we are to be like many couples, I know that times may come that are difficult, or in which we feel less harmony. I will always give my best to bring us back to the place we are at now. Your happiness means everything to me. Our lives together have barely begun, and... _and that I am privileged to spend mine with you is more than I could have dreamed. You did start out as a dream for me, and now that dream is real._

Thranduil reached for her, as tears sprang to her eyes from the emotion that overwhelmed her. He held her tightly, his own eyes growing moist. _Earlene, I think it is time I told you something that I have withheld. It did not seem to matter earlier, but today I vowed that I bound myself to you body, heart, and soul._

She backed away from him, a questioning look on her face.

 _It is about my first marriage._

Her eyes widened. Suddenly she felt fearful. _Was there some...elven thing...that was now about to impede their happiness?_

 _No meluieg, it is nothing like that,_ he said, _kissing her brow. While we both live, we are joined in the eyes of Eru and the Valar. This is meant to be a sacred bond. And yet as you know, I have had another wife._ He looked away for a moment, before returning his eyes to hers. _The day you asked what Alassëa looked like, and I brought out her portrait, you saw in an instant what it took me far too long to ever realize. Her visage was haughty, cold, distant. And there was yet another occasion on which you wondered if my wife had no longer wanted intimacy with me, and yet you rejected that possibility out of hand as something incomprehensible. And that is what I need to tell you. My first marriage was not brought to its end only by the physical separation we experienced. Long before she set sail for the Undying Lands, she wanted little to do with me. Both my body and the affections of my heart were rejected._

Earlene's lips parted in disbelief. But even she knew that relationships were rarely one-sided failures. With a heart full of pity, she let him continue.

He smiled wanly. _Your mind already perceives that this was likely not only the fault of my wife. When I think back, I try to be honest. I was consumed by the duties of being a King to my people, just as she was consumed with the advantages that marriage to a King could provide. Our early years were happy; we took delight in each other much as you and I do now. There was pleasure, and the enjoyment of companionship. Perhaps we stopped seeing each other as valued partners. Perhaps we each became too mired in our own wants. Perhaps we took our bond for granted. I will not pretend to lay all the blame at her feet when it would be unfair of me to do so. But by the time we sought to have the blessing of a child, there was already distance. I only can say for certain that the day Alassëa conceived was among the last times I was permitted to express physical love to her. We loved our son, and raised him as best we could. Every effort was made to give Legolas the appearance of loving parents; we never fought or disagreed in front of him, and yet some part of me doubts that we erased every trace of the tensions between us. I would imagine that in all this long stretch of time, he unavoidably came to be aware of the truth of the matter, and I can only imagine what he thinks of me. The dissolution of a marital bond is so rare among our kind…_ He shook his head. _Distance became resentment, and resentment became antipathy. In the end, she was bitterly unhappy that I would not sail with her, and I was bitterly unhappy that she would not stay at my side. You see, meluieg,_ as a tear rolled down his cheek as he stroked her face with his fingers, _she was never like you. You face a span of years so brief, and yet your only thought is how you can use all of them for my happiness. She had eternity, and her thoughts were for herself, and for me; to slowly turn increasingly toward the former, with the passage of time._

 _I will not make the same mistakes, Earlene. I will not fail you as I failed her. I will honor you, as you honor me. I could not live with myself if I ever caused you to doubt my love. I wanted to tell you these things because I want you to understand how priceless the gifts you have given me are, in my eyes. I know the pain of losing these, the pain of feeling that the one you believed held your heart now rejects you._ He hung his head. _I have been given a second chance with you, Earlene, and I am so grateful._

His words felt very real, very honest, and even without her powers of perception, it was palpable, how badly he needed to say them. "I am so sorry, that this terrible experience was yours, Thranduil." Leaning forward, she gently kissed his tears away. "You found me a virgin. Not only bodily, but in every way. It is not usual, for a human, to reach my age and not ever have had any manner of romantic attachment, however brief. So I had no experience with love, and relationships. But I did have eyes and ears. I watched what others did, and saw their marriages and their partnerships. I saw the many that failed and the few that succeeded, and I hope I learned a few useful things. In real life I have not been tested; I will not pretend that I have, husband. But like you, it is very much on my mind not to fail. I belong to you; there will be no other. I think, I hope, that with this as a priority, that the rest will keep as it should. Do not let the sorrows of your past steal your happiness now. Our love is new, and strong."

Leaning into him, she held his face in her hands, placing soft kisses on his cheek, and throat, as she felt him relax from her attentions.

"What did you learn?" he said, gently catching her hands. "Your thoughts are diffuse. I would like to know," he said with great sincerity.

"Well, it seemed to come down to C's. Or rather, words beginning with the letter C." She sat back a little. "The couples that succeeded knew how to compromise. How to listen to each other and to find solutions to problems which allowed both to genuinely be content. They communicated. They spoke their hearts to one another. Of course with you, there is little choice for me," she teased, smoothing back a strand of his hair. "And choosing. As in, choosing your battles. There are times that one person or another feels so very strongly about something, and compromise is not possible. One mate must capitulate to the other; there is no middle ground. Not doing this very often, or not doing this except at great need; that mattered." She chuckled. "But there again, you are King, and therein have greater power. Yet you have not made my vows to you burdensome," she said with a shrug. "I have been very happy. You, Thanadir, even Lorna and Ratiri."

Thranduil tilted his head. "You feel greater affinity to Thanadir than to your human friends?" he asked, wishing to be certain of his impressions.

She nodded.

"Can I ask, why?"

Earlene regarded him carefully. "I have no way of saying this in a manner that will not sound… No. Let me preface this by saying, I do understand what can and cannot be. The answer to your question is, my spirit is at home with you. With elves, I mean. I would rather be one of you. Not for your gifts or your immortality, but for your hearts. I would rather walk among the trees, or climb in them. When you sing at night under the starlight, it is as if I have everything I ever wanted. When Thanadir teaches me, my spirit feels hungry for the wisdom I hear. I find with every passing week that the world of humans means ever less to me. It is difficult for me to explain. I wanted to go to New York in part, because as Thanadir put it, I was no longer certain who Earlene is. And while I still am not fully certain, I now feel very clear about who Earlene is not. I will not wish to go to New York again, Thranduil. It is over, for me. My life in your forest, and in your Halls, is what I wish to have. To give you children, see your joy, and appreciate our family. There is peace here. Out there." she gazed into the fire and gestured in an encompassing wave,"...the more things change, the more they stay the same. And not in a way that gives me happiness."

His eyes widened, to listen as she spoke like this. He had seen flickers of it, yes, but to hear this articulated so clearly...he did not know what to say. Their future was ultimately veiled to him, but now Lorna's words to him in New York rang in his ears. That a woman of her astonishing achievements from a great city of the edain would somehow come to this exact place, and be in possession of her gentle and pliant nature?

"Thank you, for telling me," he said, running his hands through her hair, unable to resist leaning forward to kiss her lips gently. "I love you Earlene, with all I am."

She returned his kiss, her heart lurching as she remembered the day she initially believed she would never hear those words from him, that he would never feel able to speak them to her. _Len melin, Thranduil._ Feeling an overwhelming desire to show him attention, she took his face in her hands once again, running her hands through his satin hair, aching for his body. But she refused to rush. Relishing the taste of his skin, she kissed and teased, appreciating every curve of his throat and neck as her dexterous fingers unbuttoned his tunic until his chest was bare to her. Her eyes admired the perfection of his body as she sampled every bit of skin she could manage to find with her lips. With her tongue and lips she pulled gently at his nipples, wondering if it felt the same for him as it did her. The moan that she elicited told her that it at least did something beneficial, which caused her to smile. As her mouth worked its way to his smooth navel, she heard him speak.

"Please meluieg, may I have you?" His hands reached to her waist, and the look of pleading in his eyes was not one she could refuse. Without comment, she rose and unlaced the bodice of her dress, until it was loose enough for her to remove. Standing next to her, Thranduil helped slide it over her head, and laid it on a chair. Her hands eased his tunic off his shoulders; catching the fabric easily as she stepped behind him. Her fingers quickly glided around to undo his breeches, exposing the evidence of his desire. Boots and what remained on either of them were quickly removed, leaving them to face each other in open admiration of their beauty.

Earlene offered her hand to him, tilting her head as she smiled. "Do you remember what you said to me, after you fully claimed my body for the first time?"

He swept her up unto his arms, holding her close to him. His warm smile was tinged with the sweetest hint of chagrin. "I believe you are referring to my telling you, that you were mine?"

She nodded. "I am yours, my Lord. By the laws of your people, and now by the laws of mine as well. You are my King, and my husband; I freely give you all that I have, today and for all my tomorrows. Take my body for your desire, for your comfort, and for your joy.

Thranduil laid her on the bed carefully as he admired her. His hand caressed her belly as he parted her legs. The sight of her desire beckoned him and his pale hair draped across her thighs as he tasted her, intoxicating his senses. He, too recalled their first time, and the thought of it made his need almost unbearable. His hand swept over her belly and he gasped in delight. It was very early yet, but he could unmistakably feel a slight swelling. His daughters were growing, and strong. "Meluieg", he paused, his eyes shining with delight. "I can feel them. Just barely."

She slid her own hand down, and could also detect a firmness that was not present before. "Thranduil," she said, her eyes shining with love and joy as she looked up at him. He could wait no longer, and guided his manhood into her welcoming passage. With a catch to his breath, he had to pause. So great was his excitement, his orgasm was ready to burst. Earlene guessed the cause. "Let yourself go, my love. I know you will not leave me wanting. Let me enjoy the experience of your pleasure." He looked hesitant. "Please?"

Relenting, he leaned down to kiss her tenderly as he backed nearly out of her before thrusting deeply. He groaned, gave another, and his body went rigid as she felt him pulsing inside of her. She found it erotic beyond belief, to so clearly feel and watch his enjoyment in the absence of her own. He felt the tension increase in her strong thighs as her arousal increased. As he breathed heavily, he found that this release had done nothing beyond take the edge off of his lust. Tonight, he wanted a great deal more. He arched his back to reach her breasts, suckling at them. First the right, then the left. They were perfect, shapely, firm.

 _Why does that feel so good now?_ She could not speak, as she pushed her breast against his mouth, for the enjoyment it gave her.

 _Your body is preparing for children, meluieg. This will help speed the process; I will do this often now. Relax, let your mind imagine you are feeding our daughters. Imagine milk flowing from your breasts. Embrace with your feelings the pleasure this gives._

She did her best to imagine. It was hard, to imagine what she had never felt before. But she did remember gran's cow, the way the animal could hold in the milk when she was upset or when she wished to express her discontentment. And also how the milk would leak from her udder, flowing right into the pail, when she was relaxed and happy with her calf nearby. Letting her thoughts go free, she did as he asked, almost not noticing that he was now gently moving inside of her. The stimulation did not let up, and she clutched at his arms, the bedclothes, even his hair as her sensations added and multiplied. A soft 'click' distracted her, and she felt more of the slick lubricant drizzled on the breast he was not nursing at; soon the gentle and steady massage of his hand was tending to that nipple as well. Perhaps she was about to discover if it was possible to burst from feeling too good. When her heat was reaching a fevered pitch, he left off and placed this same slickness on her other breast. Lowering himself against her, grunts of appreciation bespoke of his own delight in feeling his chest slide over her breasts. "I love you, Earlene," he repeated as his lips brushed against hers, asking. Her mouth opened to admit his sweeping tongue as he gently but steadily drove her to orgasm. Her euphoria left her delirious, as her fingers twined in the hair behind his neck, thanking him over and over before pausing.

 _Are you near to more pleasure, for yourself?_

He smiled, and nodded, while she frowned in concentration, trying to squeeze down on him as she tugged at his hips with her hands, insisting.

 _Meluieg, I do not need to…_

 _I do_ , he heard back. With surprising strength, she held him and rolled both of them over still joined, so that she was on top, her breasts swaying temptingly near. With a moan of capitulation he latched onto her as she drove down on him. She could hardly get enough of this, or of the extra suction he seemed to apply as he reached his second release.

He folded his arms around her, pulling her close as he felt radiant joy. "Eru has blessed us, Earlene," he whispered.

Earlene had been reading. On the computer mostly, but also she had begun in earnest, already finishing the Hobbit and was well into the Lord of the Rings. Words tumbled out that would have stunned her, even a few months ago. "The Valar as well, my King." It was no longer possible to deny the evidence of her life; the gift of everything about the elves, who did not lie. Her children...just, everything. She had never believed in anything, but now truly believed in this.

"The Valar as well," he echoed softly. He played with a strand of her glossy hair. "Your hair is longer now," he said appreciatively.

"I felt you would wish that I stop cutting it," she nodded. "None of you seem to, and I would prefer to be as you are."

He sat up, easily bringing her with him, carrying her to the pool. They spent many minutes there, quietly conversing, giving tender caresses, and relishing their closeness. Finally he lifted her out and dried her, wrapping her in a soft robe. "I have something for you, Earlene, a gift. Two somethings, actually, but for the other we must wait until tomorrow."

Her face fell. "I have nothing for you, Thranduil...I did not think…"

"No meluieg," he said, kneeling in front of her. "Earlene, you are all the gift I need in this world," he said, kissing her belly. "This is something small, something I hoped you would enjoy."

He brought her to the next room where a stack of bound leather volumes rested on a table; she'd not taken note of them earlier. "These are for you," he said. "I hoped we might read them together."

"Complete works of….oh, my," she said, realizing now what this was. "Tolkien."

"Ratiri helped me order these. He was very excited," Thranduil smiled. " _Very_ excited."

Earlene chuckled, able to imagine all too well. "Thank you," she said, sincerely delighted. "This is very thoughtful."

"I believe we will all understand some things more clearly, after these are learned. Or at least, I hope to."

"I am growing tired, but maybe just a few pages?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded, and swept her into his arms again, with the book held against her. Opening it, she frowned; there were words written in Tengwar around the borders of the page but she recognized few of them.

 _"There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad."_

"Ilúvatar?" said Earlene, confused.

"Iladar, meluieg. I would guess that much of what you will see here will be words in Quenya, the language of the Noldorin elves."

Earlene nodded, and continued reading.

Lorna did know from experience that trying to get clothes off while drunk was a somewhat awkward, proposition, but at least she got Ratiri's off without actually ripping any of them. He, naturally, had been far more careful.

In spite of everything, she couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. She no longer had the dent in her side, or the scar on her chest, but she also had next to nothing for a figure. Christ, at forty years old she still wore a damn training-bra.

Even through his alcohol-induced haze, he managed to notice this. "Didn't I tell you you were like a fae?" he asked, looking down at her. "Fairies don't have curves. They wouldn't be at all aerodynamic."

Lorna burst out laughing, all unease forgotten. It was such a _Ratiri_ thing to say, and it made her run her hands up his chest, smooth and brown and surprisingly hairless for someone who was half Scottish. "Why am I afraid you'll someday try to design me actual working wings?"

"Because you know me," he said, and kissed her again. They were both learning, figuring each other out, and if it involved a few bumped noses and one clash of teeth, it was worth it.

She _was_ smart enough, even drunk, to worry a little about the Tab A into Slot B end of things, because she was tiny and he was...very much not. Add in now long it had been for her…

"Don't worry," he said, when she voiced her uncertainty. Jesus, his voice had dropped to a register that made her toes curl. "If I'm good at nothing else, I _am_ good at this." He worked his way down her body, and yes, he managed to tickle her sides again, but she didn't mind. Her wine-addled brain actually didn't take his meaning until he reached his destination, and then - _oh_.

"Jesus bloody…" She couldn't finish the sentence, because while she'd thought his fingers were talented, they had nothing on his tongue. Lorna had never exactly been vocal during sex, but holy _shit_. She'd already had a battery-operated friend at home, but it wasn't a patch on -

Her vision quite unexpectedly went white, almost agonizing pleasure hitting her out of nowhere. She was pretty sure she pulled some of his hair out, but good _grief_...he could be such a shy man that she wouldn't have expected he could do that at all.

"Where the hell did you learn _that_?" she asked, shivering.

Ratiri smirked at her. "I _am_ a doctor," he said. "I know how anatomy works."

"Evidently," she said, trying to catch her breath. "So, okay, how the hell are we going to do this? Because you're giant-sized, and I'm…"

"Wee," he finished for her. In truth, he hadn't thought that far ahead; he couldn't think that far ahead, not with this lovely, hazy warmth in his mind. "We'll just have to get creative, now won't we?"

"There's a sentence that never ends well," she snickered. "All right, doctor. Let's get creative."

Even drunk as he was, Ratiri knew he had to be very careful. He wasn't going any further until his fingers had had a chance to do a little more work, and since Lorna seemed to enjoy kissing him without expectation of more, kiss her he did, stroking and exploring. Yes, she bit his lip at one point, and yes, she really did seem to like pulling his hair, but the sounds he drew from her throat were worth it. And yet, in the background, things exploded on the computer screen, a strange counterpoint that was, he had to admit, oddly erotic. What that said about him, he didn't want to know.

He jumped a bit when Lorna broke the kiss, a trifle breathless, and latched onto his neck, tasting him with a fervor that momentarily made him forget what he was doing. Oh God...he was going to have the hickey from hell tomorrow, and he didn't care. At all.

"You," she said, "taste good. Really, really good." And he did - spicy and clean and male, some odd combination that was purely Ratiri.

"Please don't rip my throat out," he groaned, resuming his ministrations, though they were somewhat more unsteady now that she insisted on distracting him like this.

"Blood doesn't float my boat," she assured him, moving to the line of jaw. Her breath, wine-sweet, was hot against his skin, and he shuddered, wanting nothing more than to just get on with things, but she was tiny and she'd gone without for eleven years. This was not going to be a swift process.

Unfortunately for both of them, the laptop chose that moment to ring out with, "MEDIOCRE!" in the strident voice of Immortan Joe, and both of them burst out laughing, quite jerked out of the moment. Lorna flailed a bit and shut it, scarcely able to breathe she was laughing so hard.

"So," Ratiri said, wheezing, "I have an idea. Come with me." He rolled off the bed, and Lorna took a moment to appreciate that his arse was indeed incredibly fantastic without trousers. He picked up a lamp, and she followed him, confused, as he led her into the bathroom.

"You haven't done this in so long," he said, setting the lamp on the counter and leading her into the tub. "Hot water relaxes many things."

She arched an eyebrow, her arms winding around his neck. "Oh _does_ it?"

"Yes," he said, fingers back at work as he kissed her again, "it does."

It did feel more relaxing, and she explored the expanse of his skin almost lazily, tasting where and when she felt like it. The pace of his fingers increased, and she abruptly bit his jaw when a second climax took her by total surprise. Mercifully, she hadn't made him bleed, but when she leaned back, there were definite teeth-marks. "Sorry," she cringed, running her thumb just beneath the mark.

"Don't worry about it," he groaned, and she felt him shiver. Wait, did he _like_ that? She filed that bit of speculation away for later. "Are you ready?"

"I'd better be," she said. "I think I'll lose my bloody mind if we stop now."

Ratiri kissed her forehead, and looked at her seriously. "Lorna, I want you to tell me if this hurts," he said. "I mean it. Don't ignore it and think it will go away. We can go as slow as you need to."

His concern warmed her more than the water, and she ran her thumb along his cheek. "I will," she promised.

They _did_ have to go slowly, because Lorna's battery-operated friend had been for external use. Internal use hadn't happened in over a decade, and it probably took them a good ten minutes to get there, and another ten of stillness, to give her body the chance to adjust. Their height difference wasn't so great it kept them from kissing, so kiss they did, slow and lazy, though the urgency grew when he finally, carefully, moved. Even then they went slowly, but oh Christ, Lorna had forgot what this felt like, this union. She was going to be sore as hell tomorrow, there was no way around that, but she sure as hell wasn't sore _now._ She wanted to go faster, harder, but even through her intoxication she knew that was a terrible idea.

Slow they went, but his deft doctor's fingers made up for any lack of pace, and this time she sank her teeth into his shoulder, her blunt nails digging into his back. This climax was shockingly strong, so much more so than the others, and she felt rather than heard him groan, brought over the edge by her.

"I was hoping I could hold out longer than that," he said, the words a warm breath against her hair.

Lorna leaned back to look at him. "Ratiri," she said, beyond sated, "you got me off three bloody times. Don't beat yourself up."

That seemed to mollify him a bit. "If you say so," he said, helping her from the tub. Fortunately the elves kept her stocked with more towels than any one person could sanely need, and soon enough they were dried off. Ratiri sat and combed her hair before the fire, a soothing action that he enjoyed quite a bit as well. He'd wanted this, wanted _her_ , and never dared hope he had a chance.

He was sober enough now to wonder if she would want him to stay, but she didn't leave him wondering long; hair combed, she grabbed his hand and led him to her bed, plastering herself against his side like an overgrown cat once they were beneath the covers. It wasn't long before sleep had pulled them both into darkness.

Lorna woke the next morning with a surprisingly mild morning-after, though she froze when she realized she wasn't alone, momentarily unable to remember just what the hell she'd done last night.

Memory hit her like a truck, and with it, terror. _She_ didn't regret what had happened the previous night, but what if Ratiri did? They'd both been drunk. Maybe he'd done something he hadn't actually wanted to.

By the sound of his breathing, though, he was already awake. Halfway dreading what she'd find if she met his eyes, she raised hers anyway.

There was awkwardness in his, yes, but no regret. "Hi," he said, and winced at how inane it sounded. Fortunately, Lorna giggled.

"Hi," she returned, stretching, and winced a bit. Oh, yep, sore. Not terribly so, given how careful they'd been, but the fact remained she'd had something rather large in an area that hadn't had anything but a tampon in it for twelve years. No way around a little soreness.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No. It was just a bit'v stretching I'm not used to, if you take my meaning."

Incredibly, Ratiri actually _blushed_. Oh God, that was beyond precious. He was a cinnamon roll, too pure for this world. "Sorry," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"Don't be," Lorna said, arching an eyebrow. "Trust me, it was worth it."

Something in her tone made him burst out laughing, but Lorna winced a bit. "Oh God," she groaned.

"What?"

"Thranduil's going to know what we did. He won't tease us, but he'll _know_." Then again, given the rather impressive hickey she'd left Ratiri with, _everyone_ was going to know. She really wasn't glad she hadn't drawn blood when she bit him last night.

That only made Ratiri blush even darker. "Oh, wonderful," he groaned. "Hopefully he won't say anything. I can't handle being teased and questioned. This is...ours. Not theirs."

"Let's see if we can keep it that way," Lorna said, rising and wincing a bit. "If we don't get dressed in a hurry, whoever comes and deals with the fire in the morning's going to get a nasty bloody shock."

Earlene woke with something soft wiping on her nose over and over. "Mmmstill sleepy, Thranduil," she murmured, stretching luxuriously while snuggling further against his warmth. Wipe. Wipe. Wipe. "Please, myLrrrrd?" she said, sighing.

Thranduil, who cradled his sleeping wife in his arms, began shaking with laughter. Earlene had not opened her eyes. Wipe. Wipe. Wipe.

"I will wake up," she said with more conviction and a deep sigh, since it seemed to be his obvious wish. Wipe. Wipe. Her eyes opened and crossed, to see an orange paw about to swipe across her nose. "Ohhhhh…." she moaned. "I should have known. My little mischief maker." Reaching out with her finger to caress his still small (but growing) face, Tail erupted in ecstatic purrs, stepping up and down as he treaded blissfully on the soft coverings.

He could contain his mirth no longer and openly laughed, covering her face with soft kisses. "Good morning, sweet one. My lawfully wedded wife," he said, with a countenance full of joy.

She returned his kiss, already hearing the clinking of tableware in the outer room. Hugging him again, she grunted. "I had thought that once I was pregnant, I might not want you so much. I did not know what to expect. I want you more than ever", she confessed, looking at him hungrily and yet knowing that Thanadir had brought their meal.

"I had pleasure twice last night, you only once," he said quietly. "Allow me just a moment." With a gentle nudging aside of the kitten, he swiftly evened the score.

"You are nothing if not considerate," she joked, with gratitude at the warm satisfaction in her loins. "And good at math."

Laughing again, he helped her into a less elaborate dress than the one she'd worn yesterday, and quickly combed her hair for her. Thanadir's roses had, alas, fallen victim to last night's time in the bathing pool. Radiant with happiness, they walked out to greet the much-loved seneschal.

"Good morning, my Lord," said Earlene, sincerely glad to see him as always. "Did you know about the beautiful books I was given, Thanadir?" she said excitedly. "I hope to be far less ignorant, soon."

He stopped what he was doing to quickly hug her, in a gesture of familial affection. "I did see them, and I hope to read them as well. They are lovely." Something about the way he was smiling at her seemed...odd, but, this was Thanadir. One rarely knew what was in his thoughts, exactly.

Thranduil smiled. "I believe Lorna and Ratiri will be here in a moment," he said, as he took it upon himself to begin pouring tea for everyone. In a few moments the two knocks came, and their friends ambled into the room, smiling. Thanadir was just moving around the table to distribute the elven sporks (was there actually a word for those? Because Earlene was fairly certain it wasn't 'sporks' in Sindarin) when he looked up to greet them and dropped all of them onto a plate with a clatter.

"Ai!" the seneschal cried, rushing to Lorna and dropping to one knee to carefully embrace her, tears springing to his eyes. Earlene watched him, wondering if he'd lost his mind. _Thanadir? Hugging Lorna?_ Ratiri's expression seemed to betray the same worry. In the next moment, with tears in his eyes, the old elf rushed from the room with something very like a muffled sob escaping him. Earlene looked to Thranduil with helpless confusion; Lorna had frozen in complete bafflement. The King stood up, his eyes wide in amazement, as he stepped around the table, looking from Lorna to Ratiri and back again.

Still frozen in bewilderment, Lorna asked, "What in God's bloody name was _that_?" Thanadir was always courteous with offering his arm, but he'd never come anywhere close to actually hugging her. Was he drunk? Had he lost his mind? Could elves even _lose_ their minds? Ratiri looked like he was wondering the same thing.

"Lorna," Thranduil said softly, his eyes shining with happiness. "You are pregnant. With twins. Allow me to be the second to express my joy to both of you." He knelt down to kiss her forehead briefly, understanding that she did not know. Had not known…

Lorna felt all the blood drain from her face. She'd been told, years ago, that she'd never be able to get pregnant again. It was the only reason she'd been willing to do anything without a condom. She cast a look at Ratiri, who looked as grey-faced as she was sure she did.

Both of them sat - her on the sofa, him on an armchair, unable to speak. Far too many thoughts swirled through Lorna's head, none of them pleasant: she was forty years old, she'd already miscarried once, but _what the hell was she going to do with twins?_ She knew next to nothing about babies, and Ratiri - Jesus, they weren't at the point where they were ready to be parents. Not yet, not so soon. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he'd be there for her, but kids in any relationship changed things, and theirs had just started. Oh, she wanted these children, because she'd wanted children ever since she lost Saoirse, but this was both totally unexpected and totally terrifying.

Ratiri, for his part, was beyond frightened, and for partially the same reason: Lorna was forty, and twins had a higher rate of miscarriage than most knew, because it usually happened so early on in a pregnancy the woman might not even know she was pregnant. Often they just thought they were having a slightly late, unusually heavy period.

Lorna, however, looked like she was about to have a panic attack, and he had practically no idea what to do about it. He was so stunned himself that he was all but incapable of speech; all he could manage was to lay his hand on hers, hoping he could reassure her that he was not going anywhere, ever.

Thranduil saw. And heard. He hurried to kneel in front of Lorna, carefully taking her hand. "Please forgive me," he said, with great sincerity. "I did not think about your perspective. If you never believe another thing I ever say to you, please believe this. You have my promise that I will do all in my power for your health and the health of your children. We are here for you, both of you. I would never allow any harm to come to you, Lorna, if I could prevent it. More than anything I want to see you feel the joy you deserve, my friend." His hand reached up to carefully caress her cheek, afraid to say or do too much, but wanting so badly for the shock and fear he saw in her to be assuaged.

Lorna had only one question. "Can you promise me I won't miscarry?" Terrifying as this prospect was - because she was so damn unprepared, so far _beyond_ unprepared - losing them would destroy her.

That was the foremost thing on Ratiri's mind, too. A miscarriage at her age wouldn't just be devastating, it could be dangerous.

He reached his hand toward her, and then hesitated. "May I touch you?" he asked. "On your lower belly," he clarified, waiting for her response. "I would need you to move your clothing down, just a little."

She did not appear utterly happy with the request, but did as he asked. So small was her body, he laid three fingers over her womb and closed his eyes, concentrating. "Your body is as sound and whole as could be wished, here," he said, "and the fae of the children are strong," he smiled. "Lorna, I cannot promise you that there could not be an accident; a physical mishap when you are elsewhere. I can promise you that I will oversee the health of your pregnancy on each occasion you are with me, and heal anything that was amiss. I cannot control every moment of your existence, though. I can only promise so far as what I can actually...do."

Relief washed through her, so intense it was almost dizzying. "If everything's as it should be in there, I ought to be okay," she said. "Christ. Thank you for that - I'd never be done worrying, otherwise." She didn't think she need worry now, though. The women in her family tended to handle pregnancy and childbirth well; Mairead had had four, and their mam had five, all without incident. But they had told her, in hospital, that she'd never conceive again...she gave Thranduil a look that bordered on suspicious. Happy, yet suspicious. "I bet you fixed that and didn't even know you were doing it."

"Side-effect healing?" Ratiri questioned, much of his tension draining.

The King's eyes widened. "I did not ever...I did not know that you had been told this, nor did I seek to heal this about you. But...there has been a great deal of intervention from me and it is not at all out of the realm of possibility," he confessed. "For your joy, I am very happy. For what I now realize is perhaps not the timing you had wished for…." he shrugged, helplessly. "We are all in this together?" he said, rising. "Allanah will have playmates," he said, his eyes lighting up with eagerness.

Earlene rose up, having sat in stunned silence for much of this time. "I am so happy for you," she said, going to Lorna. This time, she was getting a hug, issues or not. That Lorna hugged her back, caused her to blink back tears. She went to Ratiri next. What a wonderful two days this was turning out to be!

Thanadir returned, having apparently regained his composure. His face was beatific. "Five little ones, Thanadir. Are you sure you can manage?" Thranduil teased.

"Manage?" said Thanadir, incredulous. "I am overjoyed. You know I love children," he said, half indignant.

Lorna burst out laughing, mainly at his tone. "You don't know what I was like as a child, Thanadir," she said. "If these two're anything like me, you'll want to tear your hair out. We are - I guess we are in this together," she added, looking from him to Thranduil to Ratiri. Ratiri, who...oh dear. She groaned. "You are going to get so, _so_ many Shovel Talks." Oh, this was going to be a nightmare if she didn't nip it in the bud straight off.

A little of the color drained from his face. He knew Baile, by now; it wouldn't just be empty threats. "Oh brilliant," he said. "What sex are the twins?" he asked Thranduil. "Lorna, do you want to know?"

"Yeah," she said. "I need to know if I've got to get workers back out to my bloody cottage."

"A male and a female," he answered softly.

"Four girls and one boy?" said Earlene. "Oh, that poor lad…" she sighed. "Well, that's final. It's time we discuss what we are doing here, as well. My cottage is officially sunk. There has to be a place with room for all of us. And I mean, all of us. Everyone in this room, Allanah, and probably three or four others I don't know about yet."

"But...there is room for all, here," said Thanadir, not understanding.

"There will be people from the government. The children might have human friends. The children will require the trappings of a human home, in order to be able to function with the outer world. I do not see how to avoid needing a second dwelling place. I am afraid I am faced with either completely remodeling my cottage to add on many rooms, or constructing an entirely new dwelling to serve the needs of our growing family," said Earlene.

Thranduil nodded. "Earlene is correct, Thanadir. The Halls are for...us, alone. There must be a place for us to exist for...human needs, so to speak. A place large enough for us to live there, when we are not living here. This is our sanctuary, but it does not serve every purpose. But we have much time, in which to consider these things, and our breakfast should be eaten," he said, inviting all of them to the table. Today there was a...they were a bit like crumpets, and they were delicious, served with butter and a fruit compote.

Earlene bit into hers. "This butter…" she said, as her eyes widened. "This is wonderful…" _Had they ordered dairy, on the last produce order?_ She frowned, not understanding. Thranduil and Thanadir and Lorna exchanged sidewise glances, which Earlene did not see.

"After breakfast, meluieg, I want to show you the rest of your present." She looked up at Thranduil and smiled, and forgot all about her crumpet.

Quite abruptly, crumpet halfway to her mouth, Lorna groaned. "I can't drink," she said, horrified. "I _can't drink_." That...well, _shit_. Yeah, she'd been off it while she was pregnant with Saoirse, but she'd only _known_ she was pregnant for two months. She certainly hadn't spent nine months basically forbidden any substances that were actually fun.

"I am sure you will live," Ratiri said. "If it will make you feel any better, I'll abstain, too. We can be miserable teetotallers together." Coming from a Scottish man, that wasn't an empty statement. He was still slightly in shock, the full weight of this revelation not yet having fully sunken in. This was a massive, irrevocably life-changing thing that had come out of _nowhere_ , and while he wanted those children every bit as much as Lorna, he had no idea what this meant for them - and didn't know how to ask. She always claimed she was the one who was bad at using her words, but he was not, at times, much better at it himself. He knew what he wanted, but he needed to know what _she_ wanted, and he had to ask without coming off as pushy. She was as unprepared as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was smother her.


	40. Chapter 40

Hello :-) This is a reminder/apology...for those who don't know, myself and my co-author Spamberguesa also publish this story on An Archive of Our Own fiction site, where we have the exact same user names. A chapter is released faithfully there every week, whereas there are often delays publishing new content here because of the extra hoops through which I must jump. We both have far more content to read...not here. Either way, we thank you for your time and hope you continue enjoying our story!

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"Your present is back at the cottage, Earlene," Thranduil said with a hint of mischief.

"You really didn't have to get me anything, Thranduil. You've given me everything I could want," she smiled, her hand moving down to the slight bulge that she relished now being able to feel. "Though, I really do like the books. Which I hear were in part your doing, Ratiri, so thank you as well," she said kindly. "Orla is coming this morning to look at the electronic security, don't forget."

Thranduil nodded and grinned at her, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, not that she blamed him in the least. It was shaping up to be a glorious summer day, and she was looking forward very much to thinking about...housing. And nurseries. _Five children. Throw in the cat, and they were the Brady Bunch, albeit a rather warped and multinational version._ The thought made her giggle a little, as she glanced at her husband. Who obviously did not know what the Brady Bunch was, and fortunately seemed willing to forego finding out, at least for the moment. When they emerged from the woods, Earlene took the usual path toward her back door, only to have Thranduil tug against her.

"This way, meluieg."

"My present is in the barn?" she said, baffled. Three of the five of them were nodding heads at her. "Ah. A conspiracy, I see?" Furtive looks from Lorna caused her to chuckle until she entered the barn door. "You got me more chicks?" she guessed hopefully. "I'd been thinking that what we have won't be…" The words died on her lips. "Oh!" she said, her mouth agape. A beautiful, dainty Jersey cow was standing in the barn, which had been transformed with a thick bed of straw and heavy wooden railings for a pen. And at her side was an even more adorable little heifer calf, that did not look more than three weeks old. She hesitated, not wishing to startle the animal.

"Go ahead, she is very gentle," said Thanadir. "I will go with you."

Earlene gracefully climbed through the rails to let the animal smell her, as the limpid dark eyes considered her with mild interest, searching out a treat. The seneschal pressed a small apple into her hand, which was taken by the dextrous tongue with the expected amount of slobber. "She is beautiful," she sighed, besotted. "What is her name?"

"Buttercup," said Thanadir softly.

Earlene and Lorna looked at each other and said in stereo "The Pwiiiiiiiincesssss Buttercup," before giggling uncontrollably.

"Oh, by Eru," said Thranduil, exasperated.

Laughing, Earlene returned to him, kissing him full on the lips. "I promise, no more Princess Bride jokes when you are near," she said, at which he looked mildly mollified. "The butter at breakfast….?"

The King laughed. "I told you she would figure it out, meldir," he said to Thanadir, who smiled in defeat, nodding.

"I think tea is in order, while we talk about cows, babies, houses, and milking duties," Earlene said, smiling, eagerly looking forward to asking a great many more questions. "And thank you, so much. I hope we all will enjoy what she will give us."

"There are already many who will help, Earlene. I did not expect you to care for her alone," the King said. "Them, alone. For soon enough there will be two to milk, or so I am told."

"You have a little while yet for that," she smirked. "But...real milk. It's...orgasmic." And it _was_ , compared to that shite in the cartons, in her estimation.

Passing behind Thranduil, Lorna muttered, very quietly, "Mostly dead is still slightly alive." Behind _her_ , Ratiri fought a snort, and lost.

Outside an engine could be heard pulling into the drive. "That'd be Orla, I think?" asked Earlene. A work van with a company logo could be seen out the window, but Earlene decided it might be wiser to let Lorna greet her. They were friends, after all.

Lorna hadn't actually seen Orla in years, but the woman hadn't changed much. She stood a full six feet tall, well-muscled, tattoos of various sorts coiled around her arms, with a short ponytail of hair as pale as Thranduil's. Her eyes were a blue so dark it was jarring, especially given how pale her eyebrows were. She wore jeans and a man's tank top, and she was already eying the available land.

"Either you've got taller or I've got shorter," Lorna said, and made a rather undignified squawking sound when Orla pulled her in for a hug.

"Maybe both," the woman said. "Now, you said you've got more than one job for me." One of those white eyebrows arched, and the glee of a challenge, one Lorna had seen all too often as a teenager, lurked in her eyes.

"I do," she said, "but I'm not the only one. C'mon and meet everyone." She led Orla into the cottage, first checking her boots. "You lot, this is Orla - she and I go way back. Orla, this is Earlene and Fionn - they're the ones that own the cottage - and Cian, who's Fionn's brother." She gave Thanadir a somewhat pointed look, communicating as best she could that he needed to stick to the script. Orla wasn't an idiot; you didn't get to be as good with computers as she was by being a dim one.

"Grand to meet the lot'v you," Orla said, her eyes traveling over them one by one, cataloging absolutely everything. She'd always been their lookout when she was a teenager, because she noticed things. It was only a mercy she was such hard-headed skeptic, and would write off anything she thought of as impossible.

"Pleased to meet you too," said Earlene, immediately taking the measure of Orla, approving of what she saw. This one paid attention, very careful attention, and Earlene liked that a great deal. Thranduil and Thanadir also shook her hand. It was a foregone conclusion that tea would be accepted.

"So what's it you're in the market for?" Orla asked, as direct as Lorna remembered. "Lorna here says it's a double job."

Earlene nodded. "Yes. We met someone on a recent trip to the States who is a very dangerous individual. Wealthy, powerful, connected. We have reason to fear we might not have seen the last of him. I worked over there as a lawyer, and know just enough to realize that someone good can cut through the usual electronic protections like a knife through butter. I want two things. I need information on this bastard not traceable to us here, and I want this place to be as impervious as reasonably possible to...excuse my not knowing all the right terms, but 'cybersnooping' seems to fit what I mean. And we might want a house built, but, one thing at a time," she grinned.

Orla returned the grin, though hers was positively wolfish. "Lorna'd said it was something like that," she said. "Two seconds." She went back to her van, and Lorna glanced after her somewhat nervously. She knew that expression; _someone_ was going to have a very bad day, but at least it wasn't going to be them.

When Orla returned, she had a somewhat dingy cardboard cardboard carton. When she opened it, it showed what looked like a modem built by Doctor Frankenstein, the plastic casing removed to allow for a mass of wires and more than one chip of some sort. "This is your new best friend," she said. "Anybody who tries to lock onto your signal will have it bounced back to them, but if they even come anywhere near your wifi, I've not done my job right, and that's never yet happened. You'll be cycled randomly through servers and ip addresses around the world - nobody'll trace you. It'd be a wild goose-chase." She set the thing on the table. "I'll get it hooked up for you, and if you give me anything at all you know about this bastard, and I'll find all I can. Might take me a week or so, given the legit business and all, and going at it a more roundabout way."

"Not a problem," said Earlene. "We're just grateful to have someone who can manage this." She handed Orla a piece of paper that had very little written on it: _Raoul von Ratched. Approx 6' 5" tall, pale blond hair, extremely pale eyes. Business associate of Michael Sandgraust, New York City, NY._ "That's all I have, but I will be astonished if that is not more than enough."

"It's more than enough," Orla said, folding the paper and tucking it into her pocket. "If I've got the one associate, I can find the rest. Twat won't know anyone's looking for him if his name isn't what's getting searched for."

"Good luck," Lorna said. "Don't get caught."

Lorna passed her hand over her stomach, still uncertain if she was excited, uneasy, or some tense combination of both. There was so much to think about - not just the cottage, or baby supplies, or anything like that, but...well, shit. How were she and Ratiri to do this? She liked him immensely, yes, but they weren't at the 'in love' stage just yet, and she hoped he didn't feel like he had to try to rush into that or anything. It would make sense for him to move in with her - Christ, he spent so much of his free time at her cottage anyway - but would he want to? Could she handle it if he did? She'd lived alone for the last five years, and Gran always said that people who lived alone got weird and set in their ways - and she'd know, since she'd done it for twenty years. Just...oh, Jesus. At least her family lived to be as old as the damn hills, so they wouldn't wind up orphans by the time they were thirty.

But, most pressingly at the moment, she couldn't drink. God dammit.

Aloud, she said, "Real milk really can't be beat. Old Dermot, he's almost the age Gran was when she died, he has a side-business selling raw milk in the village on the sly. It's not legal to sell in Ireland, but like that stops him. Only trouble when I lived with Gran is she always scooped all the cream off for her tea unless I beat her to the bottle in the morning."

"Your grandmother sounds more and more like mine," Ratiri said, squeezing past and out into the lounge. He wasn't used to being around many people who were even close to his height, let alone as tall as him, and maneuvering in a smaller space took some creativity. Poor Lorna, so terribly short compared to all of them. Big Jamie had told him that was why she liked staring at blokes' arses a lot - she had a good view from so far down. Ratiri had laughed until he nearly choked, especially when Jamie went on to add that she gave his a perusal every time he wasn't looking.

"I like your gran already, and Dermot too," Earlene said. "I won't even want food anymore, just park me in the barn with a glass. And a teacup." She beamed with happiness. _All this lovely food!_

But as she looked at Lorna, her thoughts shifted. "I'm not going to say a word to anyone else until you say it's ok, just so you know. I wanted some time to settle into the idea and you deserve the same."

"We can't realistically tell anyone for about another month and a half," Ratiri said, looking from her to Lorna. "Under normal circumstances, it would take about that long for you to work it out naturally. What terrifies me is your sister."

"My sister terrifies everyone," Lorna sighed. "She'll not give you too much grief, though. God, I don't know why I'm scared'v this, but I am, a bit. Earlene, you actually planned yours, right? You had warning?"

Earlene looked at Thranduil. _Do you mind?_ A smile and a shake of the head that he did not gave her permission.

"More than that. He kept me from getting pregnant. When we began our relationship, he promised me that if I wanted a child one day he would give me one, but that it would be my decision. I'll be honest, what drove this into the forefront of my mind was Allanah. You saw Aidan. I...I couldn't live with the idea that I'd be saddled with his child, and not one of my own. Don't get me wrong, I will love that little girl to the best of my ability. But Aidan and I have too much history, you haven't been told the half of it. So I made my decision, and, well, here we are," she smiled. "But even though I knew what was going to happen, it still took time to get used to the notion. If it is any consolation, what made me just as happy that day was seeing Thanadir. He responded the same way to me as he did with you. Though, come to think of it, you might have gotten a bigger reaction," she teased. "I think he had more sporks to drop."

Surprised, the seneschal looked up and smiled at her, not realizing she'd felt that way.

"Wait, _wait_ ," Lorna said, eying Thranduil. "You've basically got at-will birth control? Jesus you lot got the long end'v the stick, didn't you?" She was a little disturbed by Earlene's language, the 'being saddled with' in particular, but then, it was Aidan. That gobshite was the poster-boy for gobshites, and the kid had his coloring. Hopefully she wouldn't look much else like him, or she'd be a right ugly little one, poor thing. "This...I don't know how long it'll take to get used to it. I didn't think it was even _possible_ , so...yeah. Bit freaked out." And she wasn't about to admit that Thanadir hugging her seemingly out of nowhere had only freaked her out even more. Poor bloke was just being happy.

Ratiri wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm still bloody terrified," he said, looking down at her. "That won't last. Every parent with a surprise baby feels that way at first. Trust me. At least neither of us fainted - and yes, I've seen that happen."

Thranduil decided that silence was golden in this instance, and held his mug with a genial expression on his face.

Earlene sipped her tea. "I can imagine it would be...startling. But...forgive my forthrightness, you two will be great together. And...you've got Lorna's place, you've got a home here...hell, soon maybe you'll have two homes here. Or...at least I figured you'd both move in together soon anyway?" Matter of fact as she tended to be, it did not even occur to her that she was managing to blunder into a topic the two of them needed to discuss and rather dreaded, because neither one of them knew how to start such conversations.

Lorna looked at Ratiri, who looked back, and appeared every bit as petrified as she felt. "We hadn't exactly talked about it," she said, "but it would make the most sense. I mean, sooner or later, y'know? Especially now that it's all fixed up - though I'm going to have to add on another bloody bedroom," she added, pained.

Ratiri had hoped, oh so much, that she'd say that. "We have time," he said. "Nine months." More like probably eight, given twins were almost always premature, but no need to freak her out over that just now. "And...well, it's not like I ever did find a flat in town."

Lorna choked on a laugh. "There's no flats to be had in town. You'd've been living on the Doc's sofa until the end'v time." A certain amount of pressure in her chest eased. "Though I'm not so sure I'll be terribly fun to live with, once the hormones kick in. Also, Liam always told me I kicked in my sleep."

"Where _will_ you put another room, in your place?" asked Earlene.

"Honestly, I don't know," Lorna sighed. "If I was feeling ambitious and felt like waiting and saving money, I'd just build up on the attic and make a second storey. Orla'd be able to at least look at it and tell me if that's a feasible idea, if I'm calling her anyway. If I go and stick another one somewhere on the outside, it'll look weird."

"High ceilings," Ratiri said. "Depending on whose height they get."

She mock-scowled at him. "If there's a short joke somewhere in there, it'd best _stay_ in there," she warned, poking him in the ribs.

"Wouldn't dream of uttering it," he said, with a solemnity that was just as false.

Just then the sound of a Star Trek transporter came out of Earlene's closed laptop. All of them went quiet and looked at it as pink-faced, she walked to the sofa. "I changed my email notification sound," she confessed. "I found a website that had downloadable...nerd alerts," she said, turning even redder.

"Send it to me," Lorna and Ratiri said, almost in unison. Which made her feel less hopeless. She grinned and nodded, opening the screen.

"THAT COMPLETE AND UTTER GOBSHITE!" she shouted, suddenly enraged. There was no thought, no anything. She ran out of the house, because if she didn't, something was going to get smashed. The only thing that felt like it could keep that from happening was running. Before anyone knew what had happened, she had disappeared into the trees. Or, before almost anyone. With only a few seconds' hesitation, Thanadir had gone after her.

Lorna, naturally, went to see just what the hell had set Earlene off like that. Tilting the screen so she could better read the email, she saw that it said: _Earlene! I'm sure you miss Allanah, which is why I've decided to bring her for a visit. Don't worry about putting us up, I've got that all worked out. See you in a day or three. -Aidan_

"That _gobshite_ ," she growled. "The fucking arrogance'v-" From there she descended into Irish invective, backing away before she could do something stupid, like smash Earlene's laptop. "I ought to gut that son'v a bitch like a trout." She actually feel her blood pressure climbing, an unfortunately clear image of doing precisely that rising in her mind. _Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why_. No, not killing him. Never that. The dead didn't suffer, and this cretin, this _cretin_ -

Ratiri looked at Thranduil, totally unsure what to do. She looked, as her sister would put it, ready to rip someone's head off and shit down the hole. "Lorna, what is it?"

"Earlene's fuckin' brother," she growled. "He's going to try to dump his kid off on Earlene early. He's going to abandon that beautiful baby girl and wander off to be a man-whore and he _doesn't fucking deserve it._ I want to cut off all his goddamn limbs and make him _eat_ them."

Thranduil did not often find himself not immediately perceiving what to do, but this situation had gone from a pleasant conversation to a train wreck inside of seconds. He had to think, quickly. He'd seen Earlene's thoughts, and while part of him wished she would have turned to him instead of running out the door, he did not blame her. He saw her rage, and what she'd made of her brother's words. Lorna had swiftly reached the same conclusion. Her rage, spiralling out of control, rather alarmed him more. Earlene would be watched over by Thanadir. _Ratiri, I will help Lorna...but it might be good if she were taken from here. She has no means by which to insulate herself from this circumstance, and her emotions are a risk to the children._

The man met his eyes in complete agreement, especially on that last part.

Without warning, Thranduil came from behind and laid his hand on Lorna's shoulder. "Lorna, I would rather not have to do this, but I promised you I would care for you and your children. Your anger is not good for your little ones, my passionate friend. I know you will wish to drink, and you must not do that either. This is the only gift I can give you." She fell back in his arms, still awake but extraordinarily disconnected. He gently lifted her, carrying her to the van with Ratiri holding doors for him. "Take her home," Thranduil said. "This will wear off in a little more than an hour. She may have trouble remembering why she was angry. Or that she was angry. She will remember the cow, and drinking tea. Distract her. Watch a film. I will have to face the consequences for doing this at a later time, and hope she forgives me." He sighed heavily; he so very badly had not wanted to damage his friendship with this diminutive woman, and knew that his actions had probably crossed a line. "It is likely that when you return here next we will have Allanah, and then Lorna will grow angry all over again. If you have some way to help her reconcile this without experiencing these feelings, it...would be good. You are skilled in the healing arts of your race. I will do most anything for her, Ratiri. That I have done this, that I had to do this, grieves my heart, in not asking her consent before I acted. My gifts are not a solution, to her rage and anger," he said with a defeated and broken expression, his voice all but breaking on the final word.

"I'll try," Ratiri said. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure she'll forgive you. I'll make sure she knows why you did it; while she might be angry, if she knows it was for the good of the twins, I really doubt she'll hold it against you for long." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll take her for a walk in the woods behind her cottage; she always seems to find that soothing, and so do I." He shook his head, and gave Thranduil a helpless look. "How can anyone do that to their own child?"

"I could answer that question, but the answer would leave you with less peace than you feel now," said Thranduil, carefully setting Lorna in the passenger seat with a happy and oblivious grin, belting her in, and adjusting the seat so she would stay in place.

"I've seen it - and things like it - for the last fifteen years. Abandonment, abuse, neglect...there's more than one reason I came to Ireland. I couldn't stand watching what the world did to its children, so I went and hid in a tiny Irish village, and I met Lorna, and then all of you. And yet even now, there's yet another who wants to toss their baby away."

He looked at Lorna. "But she's got hers. _We've_ got hers. Ours. Lorna's anger, though...I wish I knew what to do about it. With everything I've heard about her life, I don't wonder where it comes from - and oh God, what'll she be like when the hormones start in earnest?" Not even Thranduil might be able to control that. Yoga. They would learn yoga together, and she could laugh at him when he failed at it.

"Earlene practices that exercise," said Thranduil. "Let us hope it can help. And Ratiri, I sincerely am joyful for you as well. You will both find your way. We will tell you what we know...when we know anything," he said, shaking his head. "If you will excuse me, I should see to Earlene. She is apparently giving Thanadir quite a run; I do not wish her to break my seneschal." With an attempt at a halfhearted grin and a clap to his shoulder, he turned and ran elegantly toward the woods.

Ratiri shook his head, climbing into the van. One thing was for certain: his life was unlikely to ever be boring.

He glanced at Lorna, who sat rather vacant. He did not look forward to dealing with her once she worked things out; she'd likely be furious, at least until she understood why Thranduil had done it. Ratiri was just grateful he _had_ done it; extreme spikes in blood pressure were never good for a pregnant woman, and that sort of rage guaranteed one. Time in her woods would calm her, and maybe they could work through just why this infuriated her so. He had a very good idea, given he knew she'd lost a child already, but for it to make her react this strongly was...odd. It was odd, and she needed to tell him why, if she at all could.

The venom Earlene felt for Aidan poured into every stride, giving her power she'd never before experienced. Some rational side of her might had guessed that she was working off of adrenaline, except that this component of her personality was at the moment bound, gagged, and locked in a closet. Her feet flew, her legs propelled her forward like springs, and her anger blazed. Before college she used to run cross-country, and that beckoned to her now. Though there were paths of sorts in the forest, she'd left the one she was on some minutes ago. Over logs and streams, around trees, swiftly and nearly silently. _Goddamn him, goddamn him and his money and his arrogance and his gobshitedness straight to hell._ What pierced her like a needle was what she herself could not reconcile...for all that she was doing this for that beautiful little girl, _he was getting his way. He was dumping what he saw as his 'inconvenience' on her and he was winning. And he did not even have the fucking grace to see the process through in the socially accepted manner. Oh no, he had to have it his way. Wait a week or two and then let's make a bombing run on Earlene so we can go find someone else more fuckable without a baby in the way. After all those things he said about me. After all those things he must have *thought* about me...thought about me.._.her eyes widened as she suddenly connected some completely revolting dots, and she now ran even faster because in speed, perhaps she could leave behind her sense of violation and disgust. _Is this what drives people to do illegal things? Why do people like him even get space on this planet? Why?_

All these thoughts cycled through her mind as she ran and ran. She did not slow, and nothing about what she was doing was helping her. But she knew that soon she would tire; at least, she would if she kept on at this pace. This small piece of reason began to at least try to make an argument when she heard him. _Meluieg, I wondered if I might ask a small favor?_

Startled, she slowed a little. She had forgotten everything, and everyone, in the depths of her anger. _Anything, beloved_. Earlene now wished he were here, except, her feet were the reason that was not the case. _Oh, damn it all._

 _Do you think you could allow Thanadir to catch up to you? His pride is being injured, meluieg, and soon I will have to deal with an aftermath I would prefer not to. Please, for me?_ His voice was plaintive.

 _As you wish, my King._ He knew what that phrase meant, now. _What did he mean, 'let Thanadir catch'...oh, no._ With a groan, she understood, as she slowed to a walk. How could she not realize, he would have followed her? And here she had... _oh Valar, no_. Distracted and embarrassed, she buried her face in her hands and the next moment was on the ground, pain shooting through her ankle. "You have just got to be fucking kidding me," she whispered. Standing up, she saw the uneven hole she'd just stepped in, that caused her leg to twist out from under her. There hadn't even been a hard landing, she just sort of...collapsed. Rising and attempting another step caused a searing throb of protest; the only thing she could do now was sit down. "Damn, you, Aidan," she said, reaching her emotional limit. "Just...damn you to all fucking hell." There were too many feelings, and too much anger. She burst into tears, and in seconds was crying about crying while her ankle throbbed.

Thanadir found her quickly, which caused her to sob harder. "I am s-sorry, Hîr vuin," she wailed, clinging to him even as she wondered what in fuck was the matter with her. "Goheno nin," she whispered, feeling completely miserable.

Truthfully, the seneschal had been more than half-ready to give Earlene a lecture, one increasingly motivated by his growing ire that she was outdistancing him. _Was this being done on purpose?_ And regardless of intent, _how_ was she doing it? This was absolutely galling his sense of inherent superiority. Yet finding her on the ground, in tears, was not what he expected. One look at her told him he was out of his depth, and that he needed to make the effort to understand what had happened. The turmoil he found in her thoughts, and the reasons why, were not expected. Her behavior had not been motivated by anything having to do with him. What _was_ on account of him was her injury, earned by her distress and inattention once she had been made to realize he was pursuing her without success. Which for now, he would ignore.

Moved to pity, he examined her ankle and held it in his hands. He could not do as well as his King to heal her, but he could reduce her discomfort. "Better?" he asked, as she nodded through more tears. Taking her in his arms, he held her close, carrying her effortlessly as he walked. _I am not angry with you, Earlene. Your feelings are understandable. There is nothing to forgive._

She felt too confused and overwhelmed to argue, and held loosely onto his neck, moving his glossy brown hair aside so she would not pull on it. But try as she might she could not stop her tears. They were coming for too many reasons. Thanadir carried her to the Halls, through an entrance she'd not yet seen and would never find again on her own. In another minute she found herself seated on a table in one of the practice rooms. The old elf gently kissed her forehead. "Earlene, do you understand why you are crying?"

"Yes, and no," she said quietly, looking at him through eyes that were becoming red and swollen.

"It is because you feel powerless. You have had your choices unfairly taken from you and have been left with a difficult path to walk, one which will ask you for much sacrifice. Raising a child is a labor of love. Raising a child not your own is to give a great gift to another. But having the raising of a child forced upon you, by one whose heart is corrupt; that is something for which the Valar themselves would praise your selflessness. I cannot change your circumstances, but I can help you to feel better, if you will trust me. Will you try?" he looked into her eyes with great sincerity.

"Yes, Hîr vuin," she said softly. The moment she answered, he placed the hilt of a blade into her hands.

"I do not have the skills of our King, but I will try to help your injury again," he said, taking her ankle in his hands and closing his eyes. The same beautiful light came over him as she watched, and she could not help forgetting her troubles in the face of his love and efforts on her behalf. It humbled her, that he would try so hard to help her. This was beyond a job description; this was done out of generosity, and friendship. The sight of this, and the peace it brought, eased her turmoil.

"Try to stand now, Earlene, and walk."

A twinge could still be felt, but not the significant pain of earlier.

"Now this is the motion you will use. First the footwork, and then the use of the blade."

With a shout of aggression, she buried the sword deep into the mannequin, under his instruction. And if that mannequin had red hair, in her mind, she felt no one could blame her.

Lorna wasn't aware of when she got home, or how, or why she'd gone. She remembered the animals, and the tea, but there was a rather large blank gap, and even as relaxed as she was, that disturbed her. Immensely.

She couldn't bring herself to ask any questions, even when Ratiri helped her out of the car and led her into the woods. Sunlight dappled the ground through the leaves, the scent of warm earth and fresh greenery enveloping her. The only thing she was remotely sure of was that Thranduil had to have done something to her, and she very much wanted to know why.

It took her a while to be able to voice the question, and when she did, Ratiri sighed. He had to be completely honest with her, or this would only end in tears, and they weren't likely to be hers. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and was relieved when she leaned into him.

"Earlene got bad news," he said. "Her brother is coming with his daughter, and she's convinced he means to abandon the baby with her. When you found this out, you got furious, and Thranduil...calmed you, somehow, because he was afraid of what your anger would do to the twins."

He actually _felt_ the rage stab through her, felt the sudden tension in her shoulders, heard the sharp, harsh breath she sucked in.

"He wouldn't have done it if not for the twins," Ratiri insisted. "You looked ready to, as your sister would put it, rip someone's head off and shit down the hole, but there was nothing to take your anger out on. Please don't hold it against him, Lorna. He didn't do it for no reason."

"He had no right to do that," she growled. The rational part of her knew that was a very, very good reason to do such a thing, and that she ought to be grateful for it, but he'd done it without asking her. He'd sent her loopy and then sent her home, and hadn't asked her leave for either. That...that was actually less infuriating than it was horrifying; she'd known all along he could do things like that, but hadn't thought he'd ever do them to _her_. He'd never, to her knowledge, manipulated her mind without her expressed consent; he'd always been very careful about asking her first, and receiving her permission, before he did even minor things. This...wasn't minor. To hijack her will like that, no matter how noble the reason - it made her twitch.

"He should've asked," she said, glaring at everything and nothing. "He knows I don't - that I don't go _blank_ anymore, he made sure'v that himself. He should've _asked._ I'd've said yes. He should've asked, and he bloody _didn't_." Part of her wanted very much to go rip him a new one - except for one, that would be the last thing in the bloody world Earlene would need right now, and for two, Lorna actually wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be near him at the moment. Not if he was willing to fuck with her brain without her consent, even if he did have good reason to.

Ratiri, bless him, said nothing - just pulled her into a closer half-hug. They walked together in silence, across a little stone bridge her great-grandfather had built over a burbling creek. Her fury and her horror were a half-step removed from her, and she actually hated it. She needed to feel, if she was ever to move past anything, and she couldn't, not like this. It was numbness, yet not quite; enforced peace, perhaps, entirely at odds with her true emotions.

"He's getting away with it," she said at last. "Earlene's brother. He's getting just what he wants, and I wish there was some way'v making sure he pays. I don't know all that much about him, but I don't need to. Thranduil says he's a bit'v a sociopath - he didn't use that word, but it's the only one that really fits - and he's throwing away his child. That's enough to make him worth nothing more than becoming a smear on the motorway, but Earlene hates him so much it's got to be much worse than I already know. Thanadir and I, we sat apart when she and Thranduil went to talk to him - Aidan, that's his name - and I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Christ was Earlene pissed. When she gets angry, she gets...neutral. Must be a lawyer thing, since you can't exactly give out at someone in court. She exploded later, but just then, she was neutral, except her eyes. I think she wanted to murder him more than I did. How the fuck the two'v them are related, I can't fathom."

Ratiri rubbed his hand along her arm. "Sometimes it happens that way," he said. "So many good families have a black sheep, often for no fathomable reason."

"This one's getting just what he wants," Lorna said, an odd ghost of rage twisting in her gut. "Exactly what he wants, and sure Christ do I want to make him _pay_."

"Karma will get him," Ratiri said, with complete conviction. "I've seen it often enough that I'm a firm believer in it. Sooner or later a person's deeds catch up with them, and he likely has a lifetime's worth of bad ones."

He paused, looking down at her. Mairead had told him she felt things with unfortunate intensity, and that she never had properly learned to govern what she did with her emotions. She was much better than she'd been when she first came to the village, but no one had ever accused her of tranquility. One of her nephews was fond of Americanisms, and as he put it, she had no chill. His exact words had been, 'She's about as chill as a bottle of beer at the center of the sun.'

"Lorna, I'd like to teach you meditation," Ratiri said. "True meditation, not the odd sort the western world has picked up. You don't actually have to sit still to do it." Sitting still, he knew, was just not a thing Lorna did unless she was working on something. "And...before I left, Thranduil told me he expected to catch hell for this, and looked wretched about it. Truly wretched. He didn't want to have to, but he felt he needed to."

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn't fully with him. He'd seen her angry before, but he'd never seen her this...troubled, for lack of a better word, and it was more worrisome than her fury. He wasn't prepared for it, and didn't know what to do with it.

Still Lorna stared at nothing, though she wrapped her arm around Ratiri's waist. She got why Thranduil had done what he did. Hell, he'd promised, little more than an hour before, that he'd do what it took to take care of her children. He'd thought it necessary, and he'd probably even been right; the logical part of her, the one she'd been developing in Baile all these years, knew that, and knew that if she was at all sensible, she'd be grateful for it. Part of her even was. But to her, logic was acquired, not innate. The intrinsic, primitive part of her, the part that wouldn't be governed by rationality, felt strangely betrayed. She _shouldn't_ , yet she did. And until she'd processed this, she wasn't going anywhere near that forest. Between this and the fact that she was _pregnant_ , which was a whole other jar of bees - it was all too much, but at least the woods were peaceful. She could work through it in here.

She ought to email Earlene when she got back to the cottage, and make sure everything was okay. It more than likely wasn't, but she needed to know Lorna and Ratiri were thinking of her, and that they'd do what they could to help.

Though if it involved going to the forest in the next few days, Ratiri was on his own. She'd cough up some excuse, and let him believe it was a legit one. If he did, Thranduil wouldn't know otherwise. She needed a little time to process this like a rational human being, and rationality did not come easy to her. She couldn't go back to that forest until she was certain she wouldn't fly off the handle, because that would help absolutely no one and nothing. Lorna was an adult, god dammit. If ever there was an occasion to act like one, it was this.

Meanwhile, she would wander, and then she would knit. She was going to need baby clothes soon enough.

Aidan pulled into what occurred to him as a sad excuse for an Irish town mid-afternoon. The cobbled streets and nondescript buildings struck him as solidly lower middle-class, if that. "Some spot you picked, little sister," he muttered, frowning. "Ennyn-En-Eryn, West Lasg'len Road...where the fuck?" Then he remembered, she'd mention she lived _outside_ of town, just at the same time he was passing across from The Spotted Dick. Glancing over at Allanah in the rear-view mirror, he smiled. "What say we stop in for a drink, little bundle? Then I'll be able to say we did at least one thing as father and daughter," he snorted. _Aidan, you appall even me sometimes,_ he said to himself, quickly followed by a shrug. _Get used to it,_ he answered back. Parking, he lifted his daughter out and opened the heavy door to the pub, needing a moment for his eyes to adjust. A moment later, he made out a man behind the bar, polishing glasses with a sour expression.

"Hello," he said in what he thought was a suitably friendly manner. "I'm Earlene Sullivan's brother, on my way to visit her, and thought I'd get a drink first. I don't suppose you know exactly where she lives?" he asked hopefully.

John eyed him steadily. "We're not open yet," he said, completely unwilling to serve this man, even for the sake of that little girl. Earlene hadn't said a great deal about her brother, but she hadn't needed to. What she _did_ say was more than enough. "She lives up the road - just keep going along it and it'll take you to the woods. Her cottage is right at the edge." How in God's name could such a one be related to Earlene? It was a blessing he was abandoning that wee one. Better she grew up with those who'd love her.

Raising his eyebrows in suspicion, there was nevertheless not much he could do or say about the refusal of service, since he did not actually know if this was true or if he was being fed a load of shite. With a crooked smile, he thanked the man and retreated, returning to the car, before looking up and seeing plan B. With a broad smile, he walked to the liquor store. " _They're_ open," he said aloud to himself, as he marched in and bought himself a fifth of Scotch. Returning himself and baby to the rental car, he looked both ways and saw no one, at which point he tossed back a very generous few slugs of the liquor, relishing the burn of it as it warmed down to his belly. "Alright, Bundle," he said. "Time to face the Ice Queen," he quipped. "Whoops! I mean, your Auntie. Soon to be your mother, or any damn thing she wants to call herself." With an obscene grin, he drove off.

"Ennyn-En-Eryn, there you are. What in fuck kind of name for a place is that?" he wondered as he peered at the empty driveway, but not too much. Hearing the bellow of what was quite obviously a cow as he opened the door, he snorted. _Only Earlene would trade in a good life in the city for kicking shit and living in the middle of nowhere._ A sharp knock on the door was answered swiftly by Fionn.

"Aidan," Thranduil said, looking neither welcoming nor rejecting. "It seems you are expected. Come in. I will not insult your intelligence by pretending that this is not happening quite a lot sooner than we originally anticipated." The rebuke was not nearly as sharp as it could be, but it was very much present.

The man's only answer was a grin, though his very clear thought was, _ah, but it works fine for me!_ The arrogance was still astonishing. Stepping inside, he saw Earlene sitting next to…."Hi sis," he said, before speaking to Thanadir. "I'm sorry, I don't recall your name from seeing you in New York?" Uncharacteristically, the seneschal did not move.

"That is Cian, my brother," said Thranduil.

Earlene continued to say nothing, her face unreadable. The silence was deafening, as Aidan looked around the very tiny place. "I see you weren't kidding about the size of your home," he said. "At least there is remodeling," he breezed.

"Let's cut through the crap, Aidan," she said. "You're done waiting around, and you've no intention of seeing the paperwork process through, do you?"

"Your keen insight never ceases to amaze, Earlene," he grinned. "We both know where this is going to end up. No authority in their right mind is going to take her from you, not with all those papers already signed. I can live with being accused of child abandonment by Irish authorities; I hardly intend to show my face in this charming corner of the world again."

With thinly veiled disgust she rose from the sofa, and walked near him, holding out her arms, forcing him to close the distance between them to take Allanah. Her arms wrapped around the baby in a manner that suggested he would be risking death to pry his daughter back out of them. _And for the love of all there is, was that alcohol she smelled on him?_ Giving her all to control her mounting rage, she spoke with a voice that still remained level."What of her things? Of which I am sincerely hoping you brought at least _some?_ "

"They're in the car," he smirked. "Back in a moment." He returned with a suspiciously modest carrying-bag of items, and Allanah's car seat, that she took from him and placed on the table. Now she was sure, she _definitely_ smelled booze. Some diapers, two feeding bottles, a tin of powdered baby formula (she grimaced to see that high-fructose corn syrup was the first ingredient), three clean sets of clothing, and two thin blankets. "She was fed just before I came here," he offered helpfully.

"I see," Earlene replied, returning his stare levelly. _What is one supposed to say at a time like this? Just, what?_

Thranduil saved her the bother. "I suspect you know she will be cared for. We will not lie to her, when she is old enough to understand, she will be told as near to the truth as a young one can hear, and everything when she is of age. Your choices are your own, but she will not be denied knowing her parentage."

Nonplussed, he stared back at Thranduil. "You just reminded me of one more thing," he said. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a small album. "Here," he said, handing it to the King. "These are photos of her mother. Madison's friends made this for Allanah. I think you'll find their contact information in there as well. They would like to know how she does, if you're willing."

 _The implication being, that they would and you would not, you complete and utter gobshite? Our mother and gran would spit in your face and twist off your nuts if they had lived to see this moment…_

Thranduil looked nervously at Earlene, sensing she was within inches of her breaking point. "Aidan, you have our contact information. I see no need to prolong this moment. It would be for the best if you were on your way," he said quietly.

With a twinkle in his eye the man looked from Fionn to his sister. Her body language revealed nothing, but he knew. He smirked, and said, "Goodbye, Earlene," before turning and walking out. The door clicked behind him.

Thranduil turned to his wife. "Meluieg, go to Thanadir," he said kindly but directly, as he walked toward the door himself.

Earlene obeyed, feeling almost completely numb. She held her niece securely, as tears streamed out of her eyes and Thanadir took her into his arms, saying what he could in Sindarin to soothe her. What calm of spirit he could impart to her, he gave gladly. He did not need to join to her mind to know what she must be feeling, after what he had just witnessed. Even he wished to kill the man, which in and of itself was an unsettling thought for an elf. In moments, Thranduil heard the car engine roar to life and leave, and the last of the man's celebratory thoughts faded as he crossed the borders of the forest. He seated himself on the other side of his wife, and with his seneschal closed a protective circle of loving arms around Earlene and Allanah. No one moved or spoke for many minutes.

 _Meluieg, we spoke of this necessity earlier. Are you ready?_

Earlene nodded, and with a sigh loosened the laces of her bodice.

 _You may feel a slight soreness, but it will pass quickly,_ he said, laying his hand over her sternum.

A few moments later, she handed Allanah to Thanadir, rose up, walked to the can of formula, and threw it with decisive aim and great force into the trash.

Lorna wasn't pleased to be called back to Lasg'len, but Mick needed her help with something only hands as tiny as hers could deal with, and she couldn't exactly say no without being a giant bitch. Ratiri had rather wisely given her a small dose of Xanax before they drove to Lasg'len; one time, he felt, couldn't hurt the pregnancy - and certainly less so than any stress she might experience from heading that close to the forest again so soon.

It took less than five minutes, and almost wasn't worth the bother of coming all this way - she had to jam her hand into the engine of an Oldsmobile and extract a few bits of corroded Christ-knew-what - but Mick was Mick, and she'd do much worse for him.

She and Ratiri stopped in at the pub, though she agreed not to actually have anything to drink. God, this made her feel weird...she'd forgot what Xanax was like. She'd taken it a while after Liam died, to get her through the worst, and it made everything very...even. Steady. Unnaturally so.

"No drink, Lorna?" John asked, and he looked almost concerned. But then, she'd been such a regular drinker while she stayed here that she supposed it did seem rather odd.

"Stomach upset," she said, by way of explanation. "Don't want to go making it worse." That wouldn't be the truth for a while yet, but if this pregnancy was anything like her first, she'd be miserable for a bit come around the second month.

"You just missed Earlene's gobshite'v a brother, not fifteen minutes ago," he said, scowling like thunder. "Like a snake, that one. Told him we weren't open. Didn't want his arse polluting my barstools."

Lorna burst out laughing, surprising even herself. "You've got a way with words, John," she said, but she looked at Ratiri.

The shriek of skidding tires broke her thoughts, followed by a crash so loud it rattled the glasses behind the bar.

John had just enough time to say, "Wha-" before there was a second crash, this one slamming right into the front of the building. The entire lot of them twitched, and Lorna dropped her mug, cider splashing and dribbling off the counter.

Ratiri made it out the door before she did, but barely, and what they saw froze them both.

The car that had been hit was unfamiliar to Lorna, but the one that had T-boned it was an ancient, wheezing, rust-spotted Dodge Dart she knew belonged to Sean. Of fucking course it did. _It_ scarcely had dent in it, but this other car, this silvery new thing she couldn't identify and didn't want to try, had been entirely caved in on the right side. There would be no getting at the driver that way - not that there was probably much point. If there was anything more than pulp left, she'd be very surprised.

The Xanax certainly served her well here; she ignored the frantic Sean, instead prying open the passenger door. Ratiri wasn't going to fit through here, not with the roof twisted like it was from the impact. With that unnatural calm, she looked at the driver's face, and paused.

No. Fucking. Way.

There was so much blood on his face that at first he was impossible to recognize, but that haircut and that ginger hair - Aidan. This was _Aidan_.

Panic cut through Lorna's haze. She didn't give two shits about him - Christ, let him die - but did he have that little one in the car? A look at the backseat told her he did not, and she nearly sighed with relief. She pressed her fingers to the side of Aidan's neck, and to her surprise found a weak pulse that slowed even as she felt it.

She had a choice. If she told Ratiri, he'd feel bound by his oath to intervene, despite the fact that he hated this piece of worthlessness. He'd feel he had to, though even she, being no doctor, could tell _that_ was an exercise in futility. A person's neck wasn't supposed to bend that way, and the sheer amount of blood, shockingly red, that poured from some head wound...it streaked his face like obscene war-paint, staining his parted lips. His eyes were open, but vacant; the lights were barely on, and certainly nobody was home.

"God hath given you blood to drink, you gobshite," she whispered into his ear, and crawled back out of the car. "He's dead," she said, and felt no qualm in the lie. He'd _be_ dead by the time an ambulance could get here, especially if he was left like that. He would die, and be no one's problem, and stop wasting the Earth's precious oxygen.

Was there anyone who would mourn him? Lorna doubted it. And that...she could think of fewer things more tragic.

"Are you sure?" Ratiri asked, looking uncertainly from her to the wreck of the car - also ignoring Sean.

"I am," she said, and it was possibly the first truly convincing lie she'd ever told in her life. "Has John run for the police?"

"He has," Ratiri said. "Not that I think Sean there's going anywhere." Indeed, the lad looked so stricken he was about to be sick, yet Lorna felt a perverse urge to thank him.

Ratiri, unfortunately, had to try to squeeze himself into the wreck to check Aidan's pulse himself, but that didn't actually wind up working - the roof of the cab was too badly dented. Flailing blindly at the side of the man's face was not a good way to find a pulse, even if there was one to be found. Lorna could fit in there easily; him, not so much.

"We should tell Earlene," she said, with a somewhat chilling dispassion. "She'll probably want to celebrate."

That she could be so calm about this, even on the Xanax, disturbed Ratiri more than a bit. He knew she'd seen some nasty things in her life, but he hadn't thought any could have inured her to _this_. There had to be something she had not shared with him, or she wouldn't be able to be as oddly cold as she was. Yes, Earlene probably _would_ want to celebrate, but that still wasn't something that ought to be said aloud. Maybe he'd given her too much Xanax, though he'd given her a small enough dose as it was. She looked just a touch glassy-eyed.

"We should," he said, "but I'm driving."

"Why drive?" she asked. "We could just call her." It was the most sensible thing to do, after all; it kept her from going near the woods, it kept Sean from running off - not that he looked likely to do _that_ ; his brain seemed to have blue-screened on itself - and Earlene would have some very happy news.

"Lorna," Ratiri said, slightly pained, "that's not the kind of news you give someone over the phone. Not if you're so close you can literally drive there in five minutes. We'll have to come back once the coroner and county police arrive, though that will take a while.

Lorna pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay," she said, though she really, _really_ didn't want to go anywhere near that cottage. _For Earlene_ , she told herself, heading to her van. She let Ratiri drive, which was entirely unlike her, but she had to try to pack everything in before they arrived. Earlene didn't need the stress that would come with knowing Thranduil and Lorna had...issues...and he'd never say anything, so neither would Lorna. But she had to be able to shut it away.

Ratiri, mercifully, didn't speed along the way; he gave her time to do what she needed to do, and said nothing when she lingered in the van a moment after he got out.

He rapped on the door, wondering just how the hell he could tactfully put this. 'Your brother's so much pulverized meat' was hardly appropriate, yet it was quite honest.

Thranduil opened the door, his eyes wide. He had already heard their thoughts. Stepping back, he allowed them entrance, and did not try to meet Lorna's eyes, his gaze was directed at the floor as he desperately tried to think of whether or not to interfere with what Earlene was about to hear. Interfering had already come at a high price, and regardless, his wife had the right to know.

Lorna, for her part, stayed well away, reminding herself that they were here for Earlene. Still, she'd let Ratiri do the talking; he actually had tact, which was not a thing she was in noticeable possession of.

"There's no really easy way to say this," he said. "Sean T-boned Aidan's car outside the pub. He's dead." Very dead. So dead, and he and Lorna were going to have to go deal with things neither of them wanted to, sooner or later. No, they hadn't actually witnessed anything, but they'd heard it.

Earlene stood up, with Allanah in her arms, as disbelief came over her and she tried to think. Thranduil walked to her side and put his arm around her; it was obvious that a silent exchange was occurring between them.

"Police will come. I'll take Allanah into the forest before I hand her over to any one from the government. The paperwork isn't finalized," she whispered, terrified. "I don't know how anything is done here."

"Meuieg," the King said softly. "No one will take her from you. I will not allow it." Which was true enough; he could cause anyone who came here to forget there even _was_ a baby until they looked at their clipboards back in Dublin.

Earlene nodded, now pacing back and forth before looking at Ratiri. "What….happens?" she asked.

"The police and the coroner will come," he said, "and take statements. They'll take the body, presumably to Dublin, and most likely run a toxicology report. You being his only next of kin, you'll likely have to settle a few legal details and, I'm sorry to say, be the one to decide how to deal with his body."

"Niamh can help," Lorna said, leaning against him. "With Allanah, and with the police. She'll know what to do."

"It's such cut-and-dried vehicular manslaughter that they shouldn't bother with you much, not past the formalities," he added. "You're Allanah's only blood relative, and you were already in the process of formally adopting her. Realistically, I can't see anyone trying to take her, especially since she's not an Irish citizen. I'm sure it will hang in legal limbo for a while, but it's easier on everyone involved if she stays with you."

Tail, all oblivious, scampered out, and decided scaling Lorna's jeans was a fantastic idea. He was getting a bit too big to be doing that, and she had to pry his tiny claws loose so she could hold him. He purred like a chainsaw, headbutting her, and it cut through a bit of the Xanax-fog.

Earlene, noting Lorna looked somewhat disconnected, addressed the rest of her questions to Ratiri - though being Scottish, he couldn't answer them all, and said they would need to defer to Niamh.

Thranduil slipped away from the group of them to the barn, which was easy enough. Between the baby, this shocking news, questions, everything, there was enough distraction afoot that his absence would not be noticed for a time. And one advantage to being King was the ability to tell one's seneschal that a matter needed attending to, and have that go unquestioned. He knew Lorna's every thought. The consequence for his actions of some days previous was a price he knew he must pay, though he'd been left with no choice. That he had not taken more time to carefully frame his promise to her was something he was deeply regretting. Of the spirit of his vow, he was glad; he truly would do almost anything to help her and her children. There was almost no one else he wanted to see find happiness more than his tiny friend. But that the cost of his promise could _be_ their friendship; that part, he had not thought through. He had broken her trust by the choice he'd made, and so he had lost everything between them. And this was the grief that was so very difficult to bear, today of all days. It would be another of the sad requirements of his long rule and even longer life. He would miss her, terribly, though she would never be far away in body. But in spirit? She might as well be across Ireland. Lorna did not visibly have the capacity to forgive; he had known this from the beginning. Reaching down, he carefully picked up one of the chicks that stood alone, away from the others. It appeared somewhat forlorn, and he held it close to him and sat on one of the wooden benches against the tall poles that held up the barn roof. From time to time the little bird would peep, perhaps feeling somewhat heartened by the attention. He leaned his head against the heavy timber, as tears streamed from his closed eyes. The occasional catches in his breathing were the only sound that betrayed the depths of his sadness.

Lorna, kitten still in her arms (and under her chin), wandered aimlessly out the back door, not quite numb enough to avoid unease. She hadn't planned on coming back here, not anywhere near so soon. She was unsettled, and in spite of her best efforts, she was still somewhat angry, and the Xanax was just holding it all half a step removed from her.

Something rustled in the trees, and Tail squirmed free of her grasp before she could stop him, taking a few strips out of her chest while he was at it. "If you get eaten by whatever you're chasing, it's your own fault," she muttered. There were other fuzzy baby critters to be found - the chicks in the barn were still tiny and downy - and she made her way around the side of it, wondering when they would be able to go home.

She hadn't expected - and certainly hadn't _wanted_ \- to find Thranduil here, but find him she did, and he was….what. _What_. Was he seriously-?

All right, even if she hadn't been doped on Xanax, she wouldn't have had any idea in hell what to do. Lorna never had learned how to deal with crying people, but leaving him like this would just be shitty, because she hadn't thought he _could_ cry. Why - _why_? He sure as hell wasn't unhappy Aidan was dead. Had something else happened meantime? "Um," she said, but couldn't think of anything to follow it with. Brilliant.

His blue eyes flew open with what could only be described as halfway between panic and having been caught completely unawares. He froze, though his expression of misery did not change as he looked at her.

"I left so that you would not have to be near me," he said quietly. "Why are you here?" That part genuinely made no sense to him.

Lorna blinked, thrown. "I...what?" Apparently that was the only word she was really capable of. "Thranduil, I don't, y'know...I don't _hate_ you or anything." It was true. She didn't hate him. It didn't mean she'd wanted to _see_ him, but she didn't hate him. "Why…?" She couldn't actually ask him aloud why he was crying, for some odd reason. It was so jarring to see it, because it was the last thing in the entire world she would expect. "I came out here because I needed air. And something fuzzy to hold."

It seemed to take him longer to answer, as though he were the one full of Xanax and not her. "I never meant for you to see this, and for that I am sorry." He looked down at the mix of soil and sawdust and hundreds of years of...barn...at his feet. "I know that you do not hate me. I equally know that nothing will ever be the same, Lorna. I have broken your trust, and I know that you cannot forgive me. And I will miss...you, more than you can know." More tears splashed from his eyes, with these words.

Okay, this… "For Christ's sake, don't apologize for me stumbling over you while you were having a cry," she said helplessly. "I...look, I understand why you did it, I do, and the part'v me that's actually smart's grateful for it, but...Jesus, Thranduil, why didn't you just _ask_?" That was the crux of it, the entire problem - the part that disturbed her, and yes, it had hurt her a little, too. "I don't go blank anymore, you know that." She never, ever would have thought he'd could be torn up like this, at least by something so...so...unimportant, in the grand scheme of things, and she had no idea what to do. Seeing him like this was so far beyond wrong, but she was terrible with emotional things at the best of times.

He raised his eyes again, to hers, making a halfhearted effort to wipe his cheeks dry. In the end, he ended up staring into the pen of chicks. "There were two reasons," he said woodenly. "The first is that I made you a promise, and I did not believe there was time. The life within you is new, fragile. If there is a time when the children could be susceptible to serious disturbances from the body or emotions of their mother, it is especially then. I did what I felt I must, regardless of the cost. The second...my wife had just run into the woods, carrying this news in her mind, Thanadir left, and then there was you...I believe you humans call it 'a lot happening at once.' Earlene is pregnant as well," he said in a tone that spoke of helplessness and making necessary decisions in a split second. "I am not immune from making imperfect decisions. Though...even had I had more time to think, I do not believe I could have in good conscience chosen differently."

God that last...that hurt. A lot. Knowing that he'd basically had too much on his plate and screwed up actually made the whole thing easier to reconcile, since God knew she'd done more than her fair share of fuck-ups when there was too much going on to handle. Probably nobody held up well under pressure one hundred percent of the time. But to hear he'd have done it even if he'd had more time to think…

"I wish you hadn't said that," she sighed. He was her friend, and most of her wanted to forgive him, but she had no idea how - especially because she had never figured out if there was any way for her trust to be repaired once it was cracked. "Thranduil…" Jesus, why did any of this have to happen? "Look, Thranduil, I am going to do my best to get over this, but don't you fucking _dare_ ever do that again. You're my friend, but I'll not lie - I don't trust you right now. I want to. God dammit, I _want_ to." Her eyes burned, but unlike him, her tear ducts just didn't want to function.

An undefinable cry of anguish came out of him as he looked at her. There was sadness, and exasperation, and some anger too. "Don't ever do that again?" he said, incredulous. "Have you heard nothing I have said, Lorna? Would it be preferable to you that I waited to ask while your womb changed, allowing your children to pass by instead of remaining in your body, while I asked your permission? I made you a _promise_ ," he choked out, his voice rising in volume. "One I will keep even if I _do_ cause you to hate me in the end. Do you think I make oaths of this nature to just anyone?" His head dropped. "I hoped, when we met, that I could give something to you that I was often denied. I…." he fell silent, because anything else that might be said seemed only likely to make this conversation more ruinously painful than it already was. He leaned forward, releasing the little chick back into the pen with a peep of protest. "I do not hold your feelings against you, Lorna." With a set to his jaw that seemed to indicate a determination to stop talking, he said no more.

Even through the Xanax-haze, some things were starting to make rather more sense. It didn't fix everything, but it _explained_ quite a bit, and possibly in ways he hadn't even intended. Sighing, she sat beside him, tripping a little trying to avoid stepping on a chick. Looping her arm through his, she rested her head against his shoulder, and sighed again. "You are such a gobshite," she said, "and you really are so like Pat it's not even funny." She paused. "Well, all right, it _would_ be, and probably will be, later."

"I am not a gobshite," he said stonily, though he could not help looking down at the sight of her arm in his, and paying a bit more attention to the state of her thoughts. He hesitated. "Lorna, is everything...well? You are different, in your mind." Even in this mess, he could not help the concern he felt for her.

Lorna looked up at him, swatting a bit of his hair out of her face with her free hand. "You really are," she said, but there was something akin to affection intermingled with the exasperation in her tone. "Someday I'll try to explain why. For now just accept it, and know being a gobshite isn't always a bad thing." She sighed a little. "Ratiri gave me part'v a Xanax," she admitted. "Which is probably the only reason I didn't sick up my entire lunch when I saw what was left'v Aidan. Who, by the way, was still alive when I found him, though I doubt he lasted long."

" _That_ man is a gobshite. Was a gobshite. And I did not just hear that," he said, before pausing. "Can I hug you?" he asked quietly, not believing until it was rather too late that he had just said that aloud.

" _Yes_ , you gobshite," she said, trying to muffle her grin against his shoulder. "Aidan was the bad kind'v gobshite. There's gradations, y'know."

Carefully bringing her into his lap, he held her like an oversized doll, his eyes squeezed shut in hopefulness. He would not let himself believe that this was fully repaired, but that she seemed to _want_ to repair it...it was something. _I feared I had lost you,_ he thought to himself, as he sighed. A small tremor ran through him, in his sense of relief. "Thank you," he said. "I would imagine the next few days here are going to be….." he sighed and shook his head against hers. "Thank you for lightening one burden of my heart. And...Lorna, while Earlene completely despises her brother, try not to say those things yourself. It will not happen yet, but it will happen. Earlene will not grieve losing Aidan. But she will grieve losing the brother she desperately wanted and never had. That part is going to be much worse. And now she is an instant mother, with no time to have prepared. She will need all of us." With some reluctance, he let her go, smiling to see that her feet did not touch the ground even though he was seated on a rather low bench.

Lorna looked up at him. "Thranduil," she said, with uncharacteristic seriousness, "it'd take a hell'v a lot to drive me off for good. I'm about as unforgiving as they come, but family's different. My older brother, he always did have it worse off when we were kids, and would try to protect the rest'v us even when it did nothing but make his life even worse, and thought it was his duty to care for us whether we wanted it or not...does any'v this sound familiar?"

Tears began to pool in his eyes again and he quickly buried his face against her shoulder. "Maybe I _am_ a gobshite," he said. This conversation was becoming both surreal and so very close to things about himself he had barely discussed even with Earlene. Probably only Thanadir understood the full scope of what his experiences had been in the course of his emotionally difficult life. That he had been given the strength to manage those difficulties had not made the experience of them any less unpleasant. "I am not the same person as your brother. I never had a sibling. But yes, I understand your point." His head lifted up again, his features restored to order before once again twisting with the difficulty of speaking. "I think you are perhaps seeing that I am not fully what I appear to be, on the outside. I hide many things away from others. I would have hidden those from you too, except that you seem to have a knack for doing the unexpected," he grimaced. "And come to think of it, that too sounds familiar."

Lorna burst out laughing. "Hate to burst your bubble, Thranduil, but though I can't read you _well_ , I can read you better than you'd think. I figured _that_ out during our first actual conversation. Didn't occur to me right off, but in some ways you and I really do think alike. Which is kind'v disturbing, given you're an elf-king and I'm an ex-convict, but what the hell."

His features slowly spread into a grin. "That _is_ disturbing," he agreed, while at the same time obviously relishing the statement.

"I won't tell if you won't," Lorna said. "And with Allanah, Ratiri knows all about dealing with human babies. Pediatrician and all that. Earlene'll have help, as best as we can give it." She eyed him, even while she cracked her ankles. "I think it's time you get a nickname: Trasfheisteoir Báirbre. I'll let you figure that one out on your own. Now hold still." Fortunately she had a packet of tissues in her pocket, because she pulled one out and reached up to wipe his face. Once finished, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Don't tell anyone I did that."

He was certain he did not want to know the (probably disrespectful) translation from her abominable native tongue, choosing to focus instead on the unexpected kindness of her gesture. A thought came through to him. "It would be very wise of me to help my wife right now," he said, as the faint cry of a baby reached their ears. "Someone is hungry." Rising, he stepped out of the chick enclosure and waited for her to extricate herself as well. "I will not say a word," he added. He would not ruin the moment by commenting on it, but the sparkle of joy more often seen in his eyes had returned and spoke for itself.

Earlene looked at her niece in alarm as she transformed from sleepy to rather animated to unleashing an appalling wail a moment later. Both Ratiri and Thanadir said, almost in stereo, "She is hungry."

Her lips parted. _Of all times, where in the world had Thranduil gone?_ _I have to…? Not in front of two males, not the very first time_ , she thought, not feeling certain how much more she could take today. Putting on a brave face, she smiled and said, "Excuse us, then," and disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Loosening her bodice quite a lot more, it was at the least obvious that the baby needed a nipple. _Did this hurt? Would Allanah know what to do?_ Tears were pooling in her eyes as her anxiety mounted. This was not, not what she envisioned for her first experience. And every second Allanah cried was broadcasting to the world, 'Earlene does not know what she was doing'.

At that moment the door opened, to admit her husband. _Help me_ , she pleaded. _I feel so embarrassed; I have breasts and no idea how to use them._

Thanadir was instantly given a request. He looked nervously at Lorna and Ratiri. "I hope this does not offend you but...I am asked if we could all go for a brief walk?" and in a much softer voice he added, "Earlene has never breastfed, and having an audience is not helping her do what needs to be done."

"Ah," Lorna said. "Yeah, let's go." She let Thanadir lead them out, taking Ratiri's hand as they went.

Thranduil sat with his wife, taking the infant, which quieted immediately though she remained very animated. "Here meluieg, sit back against the pillows. You need to be comfortable. In a moment, the house will be empty." He did not mention that by sheer irony, it was time for Buttercup to be milked, and the three of them were going to watch Rîniel in her duty of milking the cow. Once she was settled, Thranduil brought a soft towel and laid it over her abdomen. "Choose a breast, Earlene," he said with a smile. Her eyes widened at the changed feel of her body; she was unquestionably...larger. Nudging her dress and underlying tunic around, she freed her left breast. He could see she was yet very tense. "I know it is asking a great deal right now, but you must be relaxed. Like when you anticipate pleasure," he explained, even as he saw that this was an uphill battle right now. She took several deep breaths, giving her best but…

"Thranduil, I do not know if I can do this right now. This feels like being asked to sing the National Anthem at the ballpark," she said. "With no warning."

He sighed. "Meluieg, take Allanah in your arms, hold her on your right side. Free your other breast as well. And move over, so there is room for both of us." This was not what he envisioned either, for this, but he had to do _something_ , and this would very likely work. It only needed a few seconds, to rearrange all of them. He leaned up against her, with his hand gently cupping her breast. "Kiss me, Earlene."

"Do _what? Now_? This is hardly the..." his finger came to her lips.

"Trust me, Earlene. You must let down your milk, and this will allow it to happen. Eventually when you know your body in this way it will be very easy. But now, this is all new, and you are being asked to do this under the worst possible circumstances. For just a few minutes, do not think about Allanah. Pretend we are alone, and that we are to make love."

"I will try. Every male in this house knows more about what to do than I do," she said, trying to hide the bitterness and sense of defeat in her voice.

"I know, meluieg. It is not your fault." No further discussion occurred, because he kissed her. At first her responses were tense, not at all like her, but he maintained his efforts, gently caressing her as he deepened the movements of his teasing tongue, and she began to yield to his advances. Half in disbelief that he was having to resort to this (he was going to ask to see Lorna's Gobshite Gradation Scale, just because), he moved his hand to rub her mound, teasing her, causing her to want him. His lips brushed over her breast, and his tongue teased there as well, bringing a soft moan as she pressed into him. As this seemed to be going in the right direction, he swiftly worked his hand up her skirt, to gain better...access. Roving hands and a finger that worked its way slowly inside of her aided and abetted a mouth that carefully began to suckle at her. As pleasure took her mind off of everything that had just gone on, finally, he began to taste her milk. She moaned softly at what he was doing, which felt...good grief. Leaving off with his mouth for a moment, he sat up enough to reach over and caress her other breast, until he saw the beads of milk there as well, and carefully transferred that to Allanah's lips.

Her little tongue coming out and the grimace of pleasure from her little face were almost too much for him but, this was not accomplished just yet. "Lift her a little higher, Earlene; guide her mouth to your nipple." He reached over and very gently, well, _milked_ her, to encourage Allanah. With the second taste, the little mouth latched on and "Oh!" Earlene gasped in surprise.

"Relax again, Earlene," he encouraged. "Think only on what feels pleasurable to you." He continued the effort of his fingers and his mouth, though he was careful not to bring her near climax; he would owe her that later. When Allanah had spent maybe ten minutes, he encouraged Earlene to offer her the other breast, which seemed to continue apace. He kept on talking softly to her, praising, showing her affection. As she relaxed more, her face took on a satisfied glow. Eventually the little girl slowed down and with a tiny yawn fell asleep, her mouth half open around Earlene's nipple. Thranduil carefully removed her to her crib.

"Thank you," she finally spoke. "I never would have managed this. I was having a waking nightmare of needing to bring Thanadir in her to show me what to do and…" she shook her head. "I love Thanadir but I do not yet feel ready for that yet. I know in the end he will see it all. He has _already_ seen it all but…" she sighed, with more shaking of her head.

Thranduil laughed softly. "I love you, Earlene, and I am sorry I was tardy. Thanadir would have helped you, but I will acknowledge that the two of you like as not would have been in significant difficulty trying to encourage your breasts to cooperate. And while Ratiri could likely articulate everything quite well, I believe that for all his professionalism, even he would not have relished the task. Understand, meluieg, the first many times may have their ups and downs. You and Allanah will grow used to each other, and in the end you may find you have more trouble keeping your milk in than letting it down."

"Where did the others go?" she asked, feeling suddenly awful that they'd been basically kicked out on her account.

"To milk the cow."

Earlene pinched the bridge of her nose. "What happened to my life?" she whispered. But she was smiling, and looking at her husband with love.

Lorna, Ratiri noted, seemed markedly less tense - which was a relief, since they were going to have to deal with police inquiries, but at the same time, he wondered about it. Now was not the time to ask, however; instead, they observed the cow. Both of them lived or had lived near farmers, so it wasn't new to either, but watching an Elf milk a cow was rather...different. They even did _that_ gracefully, and the cow actually stood patiently, not swatting her in the head with an irritated tail, nor stepping on her foot or kicking the ceramic pails over.

The kitten, of course, came bounding over to the barn, and Lorna went to shoo him away before he could get in at the chicks. He jumped up into her arms instead, of course scratching her again in his earnestness, and watched the proceedings with his big, round kitten eyes. So long as he stayed put, she'd hold him.

Thanadir introduced the elleth who was taking most of the care of Buttercup. "This is Rîniel," said the seneschal. She knows very little English."

"Hello", said the elleth, who had a medium frame and light brown hair, and a placid, cheerful countenance. She also waved, looking questioningly at Thanadir, who smiled encouragingly.

"Rîniel worked very hard to practice waving Hello," he explained. "It is not an elven custom."

Feeling a bit ridiculous, Ratiri said, "Hello," and waved in turn. Lorna couldn't manage a proper wave with her armful of kitten, but she pulled off some sort of odd hand-flap that might have been a wave.

"Is this this something she did before?" Lorna asked. "When all you lot were here?" Seemed weird to think of elves milking cows, though it shouldn't. Somebody had to do it.

"Mostly. It has been long since we kept dairy animals; I believe that this was Earlene's idea to which the King finally relented. Rîniel's mother at one time had this duty; she grew up around cows and goats kept for milk. But now only Rîniel is here; her family chose to sail long ago. She seemed very glad to take on this work." He lowered his voice. "And I am very glad to have fresh milk again," he grinned.

Lorna burst out laughing, but Ratiri wondered why this Rîniel had stayed. Why had any of them - this last enclave of Elvendom in Ennor? There must have been a reason. While he had no idea just how large the Elven population of Earth had been at its height, there had to have been a hell of a lot of them, and almost all had gone. _Almost._

"You can't beat fresh milk," Lorna said, while the kitten clambered up onto her shoulder and started chewing on her hair. "And fresh eggs. People that live in cities don't understand what they're missing."

Thanadir watched enthusiastically as the creamy milk foamed into the ceramic jugs, already dreaming of butter. Rîniel was very fast, and the whole affair took less than fifteen minutes. She had thoroughly groomed the animal with brushes beforehand, and now made to return the milk to the Halls. The humans looked on in fascination to see that her system was that of a carrying-yoke; the two vessels of milk were suspended by cords so that she could carry them by means of the wooden device. With a smile and a polite bow of her head (and a wave) she briskly walked off into the woods with the filled jugs swaying from the yoke. The seneschal tilted his head. "It is safe to return to the house," he smiled. "I would like tea."

 _Poor Earlene_ , Ratiri thought. Breastfeeding could be difficult for a new mother under any circumstances, but she'd been handed this baby out of nowhere, just been told its father - her brother, however much she hated him - got mashed into chutney in a car wreck...it was a miracle she'd managed at all.

"Could do with some myself," Lorna said. She was fairly certain some of her scratches were bleeding, but this little fluffy chainsaw was too cute for her to get angry at for long. Tucking the kitten beneath her arm, she followed Thanadir to the cottage.

Earlene already had the kettle on, while Thranduil had laid the sleeping little girl in the crib brought from the Halls, which for now would be kept in her bedroom. It sounded so stupid, inside her head, but she felt genuinely proud of herself. She'd actually done it, never mind needing constant coaching and, um, _constant coaching_. Blushing a little, she tried to put that past her. A great deal of this...children and reproducing stuff...seemed to have to do with accepting that bodies did what bodies did, and she could work with that reality or against it. While she would not have guessed that lust and breastfeeding were two words that had any place in the same sentence, if it fed Allanah, it made no real difference. That it had felt euphoric and very satisfying by the end, well, that was good because she was going to do rather a lot of it. _How euphoric is it going to be at 3:30am?_ she wondered. But again, she would be blessed with so much help, and would not overlook her good fortune in this regard.

As she distributed the bags of tea, her mood darkened a little. The visceral satisfaction of having nursed for the first time would have to give way to the ugly reality that her only brother was dead. And, Sean. _Sean?_ To compare it to the plot of a bad movie would be doing a disservice to all bad movies, everywhere. Ever. Would the police just...show up? There was so much she had no way of knowing.

Lorna set the kitten on the floor, only for him to eye the end of her dangling braid and make a flying leap for it. Ratiri caught him, taking him into the lounge and setting him on the sofa. "Cream tea's only proper when it's got actual cream in it," she said, leaning against Ratiri when he returned. "Is the little one asleep?"

Earlene nodded. "You can hold her if you want, she dropped off toward the end of her...meal," Earlene grinned. "It was…ok, I always thought I'd never be one of those types that goes on and on about 'baby this' and 'baby that' but it really was the cutest thing ever. I've got a lot to get used to. You've no idea what that felt like, to know that every male around me knew what to do when I didn't," she said, now able to poke some fun at a circumstance that was not very funny at all less than an hour ago.

"Sorry," Ratiri said, while Lorna snorted.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't've had a bloody clue, either," she said. "Let me get this fuzz off my shirt first, so I don't make her sneeze." She hurried into the bathroom, wetting a bit of toilet-tissue and wiping it over the cat fur Tail had donated to her. Yeah, he'd scratched her a good few times - she couldn't let Ratiri, who wasn't over-fond of cats without trimmed claws, the weirdo - know about it, so she dabbed some more and rearranged her shirt.

"Let's see this little one." She wasn't going to pick her up without someone else in the room, though - someone who actually knew how to properly hold a baby.

"When they are little ones, you have to support their head and neck," Thranduil said softly. "The muscles are weak there, yet, and the head is so heavy." Knowing she felt reluctant, he carefully picked her up but first found a small towel to put against Lorna before laying Allanah in her arms. "While I do not believe you have to worry, I do not wish you wearing her latest meal should the worst happen," he smiled. "If nothing else, her father did keep her healthy, though Earlene was most disapproving of the food she was given. I cannot say I blame her," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, smiling at the sight of Auntie Lorna.

Christ but she was precious...and she'd never have to deal with Daddy Dearest ever again. Lorna was half tempted to send Sean a bouquet. "Her name means 'little dear one'," she said, looking down into that little face. "Even if her da was a twat, at least he gave her that. And sure she's definitely Irish. Look at that hair. She'll be as ginger as my sister, I'm sure'v it.

"Before much longer we will have to confess Earlene's pregnancy to the village; she is beginning to show," Thranduil said. "I hope we survive the celebrations. But first...regrettably we must clear the final hurdles her father sent our way. How strange life is, Lorna. One day I am threatening Sean should he ever come near my wife again. Another day, he has killed my brother-in-law, except it is practically a cause for celebration. I have lived a very long time and yet all the strangest parts of it have had to do with Sean. I do not know what to make of that."

Lorna looked at him. "Welcome to Ireland," she said, smirking a little. "You'll be surprised just who can wind up doing a good deed by mistake - even if it doesn't look like a good deed to most. What'd you threaten Sean with, though? If it didn't involve a bog, it's not a proper threat."

Allanah yawned, and made a sound very like a squeak, and Lorna just about melted. Jesus, she was going to have _two_ of these in nine months...thank bloody God Ratiri knew all about babies.

"I said very little to him, in actuality," Thranduil replied, remembering. "The sum of it was that if he ever touched Earlene again, or came near her in a manner to which she objected, that he would have a great deal to fear. What seemed to do him in the most was when I continued to stand and stare at him after speaking. Or at least, that was when he urinated himself," he concluded with a shrug. "I am guessing that he will receive unavoidable punishment, for what happened?"

"Christ, he pissed himself…" Lorna shook her head, laughing at the memory. "He will, but it'll be less if he gets a clean tox screen. Reckless endangerment is a lighter prison sentence than a DUI. Either way, I'm tempted to send him a bloody care package every month. Aidan…." She glanced at the door. _Even if there had been some chance of saving that son of a bitch - and I really don't think there was - I wouldn't have said anything. I'd've let him die._ Ratiri, no doubt, would find that horrifying, but Ratiri was a doctor. He was literally oathbound to save life where he could. Lorna had no such compunction, and no oaths to anything.

The King sighed. "While your anger frightens me sometimes, for your own well-being...I would have chosen no differently, Lorna," he said. "You do not know what was in that man's mind; it is a burden I have chosen to carry and never tell to Earlene. She would not cope well with knowing how bad it was. I have met orcs with more morality. I am only relieved that Allanah will grow up away from any such influences. It will grieve her, someday, to understand what her father was. But that tale is a long way off from the telling. In a way, it is a blessing. She can be told that her father died, and we raised her, and that will not be a lie. Though it will very much be only part of the truth."

"I can guess," Lorna said. "Any man who'd try to toss over his infant daughter months after its mam died...I can make a guess. Wanted to get out and...what's the Americanism, play the field? Here I was so furious that he'd got away with it, that he was going to get everything he wanted, and now this…" She laughed. "Ratiri said karma'd get him in the end. This little one, though, he did her a favor by dying. It's all the truth she'll ever need to know."

"And yet when she is of age, the choice to learn more will lie with her," he said, just before something appeared to distract him. "Enjoy her," he said with a smile, "please excuse me."

Earlene had decided that it was time to care for some unpleasant realities before her emotions could become mired any further. Specifically, she wrote to her lawyer Claire to give her the news, explaining the situation and relating everything that transpired and what was said; this would also serve as her documentation of Aidan's abandonment. Thranduil felt he owed it to her to sit next to her as she did this. In the meantime Ratiri and Thanadir were enthusiastically discussing breastfeeding techniques. For once, Thranduil was glad to see that Earlene could completely block out what was said around her when she was intently concentrating.

"We probably ought to go deal with the police," Ratiri sighed. "Given Lorna's history with car wrecks, I wish I didn't have to put her through that, but we were both there." Thank God he'd given her the Xanax, or he didn't know _what_ it would have done to her. More quietly, he added, "If anyone needs to ID the body, she's met him before - sort of - and I'll tell whoever asks that Earlene's pregnant and doesn't need to be seeing that." He was a doctor; his word would carry a certain measure of weight there. From what little he'd seen himself, it wasn't pretty; while Earlene might have hated her brother, she still didn't need to be seeing him like that, even if she hadn't been pregnant. But he also didn't feel like prying Lorna away from that baby - she seemed to be feeling much better, and he didn't want to disturb that.

He didn't want to pry into her personal business, but from a sheer medical standpoint, he had to know. _Are things...better, between you and Lorna?_ he asked Thranduil. _I don't want to invade either of your privacy, but as her caregiver I have to ask that much. I can't keep giving her Xanax, but will she be well, if I stop?_

For the barest moment, a flicker of fear, and pain, washed over Thranduil, to be quickly hidden as his sense of discipline, and duty, reasserted itself. There was hesitation, until he considered the words actually said. 'Better.' Better did not mean 'fully well,' it meant...what it meant. _They are better,_ he admitted. _I feel far more hope than I did when you first arrived. I believe, in the absence of further shocking or deeply upsetting events, you could stop giving the medicine. Though today, it was great good fortune that she was insulated in advance against what transpired. Lorna likes Allanah a great deal and is of course welcome to be here with her as much as she likes. When the authorities have had their demands fulfilled, we will like as not retreat to the Halls, at least for a few days. Earlene's life will not be the same now, and she deserves a chance to understand her new role away from the reminders that this home may offer. I would like it, and so would she, if you came to visit. Maybe bring movies we could see there? I know Earlene wants to read her new books and I will encourage this, while she is spending time with Allanah and feeding her._

 _We can do that_ , Ratiri said. _I can't promise she won't have to deal with legal things somewhere down the line, but Lorna has Niamh, so we'll take care of all we can. Tell Earlene not to worry about it. Lorna's always happy if she's got someone to shout at, and people tend to give her what she wants just to make her stop._ It probably said something about him that he found that rather charming, but he really did. He liked that she was a tiny ball of aggression and hair and somewhat alarming green eyes. _It really is something of a joy to watch._

Lorna glided out of the bedroom, walking with the sleeping infant in slow, rocking motions, perfect contentment written on her face. She slowly made her way toward the sofa where Ratiri sat next to Thranduil when Allanah woke with a tiny little gasp and loosed a belch of completely impressive volume into Lorna's ear before smiling and nodding off against her shoulder.

Lorna choked on a laugh, shoulders shaking with the effort of suppressing it. "When she's older, I'll teach her to belch Black Sabbath songs," she said. "Well away from Earlene. It'll be our little secret."

"You're lucky she didn't sick up on you," Ratiri said, and she grimace.

"Not looking forward to that, with ours." She had a sudden mental image of a veritable choir of belching five-year-olds, and had to choke back a fresh burst of laughter. "Well, whatever else this turns out to be, it's unlikely to be dull."

 _Eru help me,_ Thranduil said to himself, grinning. And it was the happiest he had felt in days.


	41. Chapter 41

Thranduil read to Earlene from _Quenta Silmarillion_ , the Story of the Silmarils, while Earlene sat near the fire nursing Allanah. It seemed silly to be having a fire in July, but the underground fortress was always a steady variation on "cool". And while she had no doubt that it was far warmer in their rooms than the elves might need or wish for their own comfort, they had given her well-being the priority. Thanadir had made her a number of simple but very useful garments; they were a sort of wrap-around vest, with soft fabric that was readily absorbent. The panels that covered each breast were heavily pleated, which allowed her to stay a little warmer, and drier. Thranduil had been right; it was very soon after she'd gotten the "hang" of it that the mere sound of Allanah's hunger opened the floodgates. She could control the letdown of her milk somewhat, but...not all the time. At any rate, the garments allowed her to stay more comfortable. After her second or third experience feeding, she did not even bother shying away from the seneschal; what was the point? The sight of her breasts meant nothing to him, and Earlene was rapidly becoming used to her body serving a different purpose entirely.

The little girl, when awake, was never bored. Walks in the forest to grab at leaves and rocks, a favorite game of Looking In The Mirror With Thanadir, who would talk to her incessantly in Sindarin, encouraging her to make sounds, and of course the remarkable ability of Thranduil to know her mind and explain her developing thoughts. Allanah was healthy, happy, and loved.

With his ability to fill in the blanks and explain what did not seem to make sense, Earlene soon understood much about the world into which her husband was born. It was a tale of sadness. There had been elven kingdoms of beauty and splendor, but always with destruction and devastation following not far behind. She learned of the extraordinary awakening of his people, and the terrible acts of violence and deception by the one who came to be known as Morgoth. It would have been hard to accept or believe this was anything but fantasy, except that she was living among people who had been there, and seen. And while she said nothing aloud, in the back of her mind she could not forget the... _thing_...they had met in New York. _How could anyone wish to follow or serve such a one as Melko?_ It failed to compute, on every possible level. Her affinity to the elves grew all the time, and that there could be any desire to differ from these beautiful and gentle people became more difficult to understand.

And the Valar, and Eru himself...the notion that there was perhaps a greater plan, a greater good; that felt more hopeful to Earlene. It did not entirely make sense to her, the concept that so much suffering would be allowed to go on before an original plan of creation that was thwarted would be repaired, but, many things did not make sense to her. Enough humility was built into her psyche that she could accept...them. That these powers, for lack of better words, did not seem to want churches or worship or ceremonies impressed her favorably. One thing she'd never understood about religion was why any of that could possibly matter to a deity worth serving. What guide or parent actually _wanted_ followers who were sycophants, obsequiously muttering prayers over and over, or serving up pompous rituals? Not one that made any sense to her; that sort of thing had always struck her as the ravings of something that had a narcissistic personality disorder. The elves, though, clearly saw the Valar more as loving parents, with roles to play. They guided, and guarded, and were forces for good. It felt...rational.

On the fourth day after Allanah arrived, Earlene asked if they might go to the pub, just to say 'hello'. It seemed only right to make an appearance. Aidan had, after all, hit the goddamn building, and Earlene had not been to see the damages or ask about...anyway, it was only right. So late afternoon one day, with Allanah squealing in delight as Earlene and Thanadir gently "walked" her in the grass near the roadside, they arrived just in time to see the locals filing in. Earlene had changed out of her elven clothes. Or more accurately, she had hybridized them; she wore human leggings, one of Thanadir's miracle milk-control garments, and a pretty and airy loose fitting print tunic with a flatteringly uneven bottom hem. And sandals. She looked radiant and lovely.

The growing din of the pub muted a bit as they came in, awkwardness overtaking many. While it had got around town that Earlene hadn't liked her brother (because he was a gobshite), the fact remained that he'd _been_ her brother, and he'd been killed quite suddenly - and gruesomely, if Lorna's expression had been any indication. It had certainly left an impressive dent in the external wall of the pub. John still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do about it, because unless he completely redid the siding, there was no masking it.

Sight of that little baby, though, cut through the awkwardness and then some. Big blue eyes, a soft down of vibrant ginger hair...the girl giggled, and half the population of the pub melted.

"How's everything been settling in?" John asked. He wasn't sure if the police had been out bothering them or not, but they'd certainly been _here_ often enough - too often, he'd think, because seriously, it was a DUI manslaughter. Nothing complex about that. They'd only left the final time because Lorna had shouted at them, something about a lawyer.

"I was thinking to ask you the same question," Earlene said sheepishly. "I'm truly sorry not to have come out sooner. He...my brother was such a gobshite", she said emphatically. "I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but I can't forgive him for both what he did to me when we were younger and then to his own daughter. Do you know he didn't even say good-bye to her, when he left? And then he got himself killed, and hit your pub…" she trailed off. It was truly difficult to summarize Aidan in anything less than a short story, much less a few sentences. Though, "gobshite" was always a good place to start. She looked at them all, somewhat helplessly.

"You haven't got any need to apologize," John said. "None'v this was your fault. We all figured you'd take what time you needed - it wasn't just that your brother died, but now you'd got a little one." The cutest little one he'd seen in years, actually. "I'm not surprised he didn't. I didn't like the look'v him the moment I saw him. Sometimes people just have that _something_ about them…." He shook his head. "But what can I be getting you?"

"Pints of Guinness for the lads and...is there something like soda water and lime juice, for me?" she asked hopefully. Alcohol had no appeal right now, and she wasn't sure what the choices were, for anything else. "And John...is there insurance, on your pub? I'm a lawyer. I've got a lawyer. And my brother was many things, but he was not poor. I'll not have this costing you, what happened. I couldn't live with myself."

"Coming up," he said, taking down two mugs. "I've got a few fizzy drinks, if you'd want to look at the menu. Good to have cold on a hot day. And I have - adjustor's just dragging his feet getting out here, of bloody course." He set the menu before Earlene, filled two pint glasses, and tickled Allanah under the chin. Her gurgling giggle made more than one nearby patron grin like an idiot.

"Sure isn't she adorable," Bridie sighed. "She could be on an advert for laundry soap."

"Her mother was very, very beautiful. Ungodly beautiful. I'm not sorry to have Allanah but…" she shook her head. "She is a very happy baby, and healthy. And her Auntie Earlene figured out feeding her, and everything," she chuckled, enraptured by the child's blue eyes. She could be related to Thranduil, that's how blue they were.

None of them were ever going to come out and say it was a good thing her brother had been mashed to a pulp inside his own car (Lorna's words, apparently), but most of them were thinking it. That beautiful baby girl deserved good parents, without the specter of a gobshite one hanging over her head. That the elves were so willing to help was a relief; there were a few in the village that weren't certain just how they'd take this random tiny human getting foisted on them, but Bridie had seen how Thranduil was with little Orla. She'd had no concerns at all. "What manner'v formula have you got?" she asked. "Because a lot'v the brands out there are shite."

Earlene chuckled. "This formula," she said, pointing to her chest. "I guess it's not a secret that my husband has...unusual abilities. He helped things along a little, because of exactly that problem." She hesitated. "It isn't just Allanah," she said, glancing down and smoothing her tunic over her now very visibly swelling abdomen.

"You're…?" Bridie didn't get a chance to finish that, because Maire, squealing like an eejit, bounded over.

"You've got one in the oven?" she asked, somehow managing to avoid spilling her pint all down her front. " _And_ this little one? Christ it's good you've got help." She glanced from Thranduil to Thanadir, who always seemed so serene - not that they'd seen him many times.

Earlene smiled from ear to ear. "No. I've got _two_ , in the oven. Twin girls. And I have the best help anyone could want. Thanadir loves children even more than Thranduil, and that's saying quite a lot."

"Three little girls?" John asked. As the father of three himself...God help them. They were going to need it.

"You realize you need a shower, right?" Chloe asked, struggling through the crowd and coming to rest against the bar. "And _we'll_ plan it, not the Quilting Circle. Christ that'd be a nightmare."

Bridie twitched a bit. Yes, yes it would. "Grand old ladies, the lot'v them, but you'd wind up drowning in baby clothes from the nineteen-fifties."

 _As opposed to the Third Age of Arda?_ Earlene thought, but of course did not say aloud. "There genuinely isn't a lot we need. The elves have...no shortage of clothing and baby items. But speaking of the Quilting Club….is Aurinia okay? Lorna told me it was Sean and...I know I can't do a thing about it, but she's still a mother, and I can't imagine what she's being put through right now."

John sighed. "She's bearing up," he said, "but it's hard on her. Sean's a waste, but he's her only son, and his da...none'v us could ever work out why she married his da. The ladies'v been looking after her, and no doubt knocking up a quilt to send him in prison." Sometimes, all you could do was keep your hands busy. At least Aurinia had something to do with hers.

"She'll be all right, in the end," Bridie assured. "She's a tough one. Had to be, given the gombeen she married."

Earlene sipped on what had morphed into her soda water with grenadine and lime, since she felt like something sweet but on principle generally avoided soda pop. Thanadir sidled over, looking longingly at Allanah and curiously at her drink. She handed the baby over to him, and Allanah immediately grabbed a fistful of his hair and stuffed it into her mouth. There were far worse things than elf hair to chew on, but she handed the seneschal her drink to try while she gently disentangled his locks with the help of funny-faced distractions, and smoothed it behind his back. "Nothing's safe from those little hands," she said adoringly before returning her attention to Bridie. "I should go visit her," Earlene said. "It's the decent thing to do."

"If you do, go earlier in the day," Bridie warned. "She'll be drunk by now. The ladies'v tried to get her out to the pub, but she won't come. Maybe she will, if you talk to her. She's just sick with guilt, for all it's not her fault Sean turned out as he did."

"Sean's got nobody to blame but Sean," Jack said darkly, coming up behind his wife. "But it's hard on her. Might do her some good to see you. And that little one." He gave Allanah a little wave, and she returned him a happy smile. Three little girl babies...Bridie hoped elves didn't need as much sleep as humans, because they weren't going to get it once those twins were born.

Orla, wide-eyed, approached Thranduil. "Did you find that baby?" she asked. "Mam says when people want babies, they find one. I dunno where, but...somewhere?"

Thranduil immediately picked the little girl up into his arms. "This one is our relative. Do you have an Auntie?"

Orla nodded her head solemnly. "Well Earlene is _this_ little girl's Auntie. But some things happened, and now she will be living with her Aunt and Uncle. But now that I know that…" Thranduil made a show of looking in each direction to make sure no one else was listening "…I will keep a lookout for them. I like babies, so maybe if I am very lucky, I will find some more?" He looked into Orla's eyes to see if she agreed with this strategy.

"You're smart!" Orla exclaimed.

"Only because I have you to give me such good ideas," he said with great seriousness. With a squeal of excitement she turned into a wiggle-worm, and so he quickly set her down, as she busily began looking around the pub furniture for any babies that might have been overlooked. His eyes were alight with joy to watch her innocent antics, as he chuckled.

"When are you due?" Bridie asked. "Maire mentioned elf pregnancies can last a bloody year, but you're human, except you're carrying half-elf babies…" Even if maths had been one of her stronger points - which they hadn't, really - trying to work _that_ out might have just resulted in a headache.

Earlene smiled. "Well, good question. Elves and humans have married before. But it has always been an elf woman marrying a human man; it has never before been the other way around. Between nine months and a year, or, whenever they are tired of being in there, I guess is the answer. Anywhere between late January and late April of next year. Their aur en onnad is April 25th," Earlene said, hoping desperately that discussing elven...realities...was not off-putting to Bridie. But she _seemed_ a practical sort…

"It's never been a human woman and an elf before?" Bridie eyed the pair, and wondered why the hell not. Sure, they weren't her type, but there were plenty out there that loved that sort. "Well, I guess that'll just make everything more interesting. Once they drop, you'll have a better idea when it'll be. I doubt it'll come out'v nowhere." Obviously elves and humans were similar enough that they could interbreed, so childbirth probably wasn't too much different between the species. "Have you given any thought to a breast-pump? I've got some in the chemist, and with twins, you might be better off with one. Otherwise, and I'll be frank, you'll wind up with raw nipples. Plus, it's always nice if the da can feed the babies a bit, too, and obviously that takes a bottle."

"You know…" Earlene thought about this. "He can heal...most anything. But these two being able to feed her...that might really be nice, when the time comes. Sleeping for more than an hour might be nice, too. We'll definitely talk about it. I'm still a complete rookie at this, but it's getting better," she grinned. "It's amazing how it sounds so easy until you have to do it for the first time, and have your figurative thumb up your arse."

"The people that tell you it's easy are full'v shite," Maire snorted. "They say 'oh, it's instinct'. No. No, it's bloody not, which is why all'v us women have to swap advice. You'd be amazed how unhelpful my obstetrician was with my eldest. It's lucky you've got a husband that can heal things. Though, with twins, be aware you might wee yourself once or twice when you're closer to full term. Your bladder might not tell you what it needs until it's too late."

"This conversation is proving completely illuminating," said Earlene. "I'm realizing, I really need to start reading. I mean, I've read, but not about things like this. And forewarned is forearmed, as they say." She paused. "I was ready to come unglued, the first time I tried to nurse her. Thranduil had stepped out for a moment, the baby got hungry and started crying, and the only two around were Thanadir and Lorna's friend Ratiri. And both of those two knew ten times more about it than I did. But I just couldn't talk to them, not the first damn time. I mean, I would've, if I'd had no other choice but...Jesus. Thank god my husband came back almost right away, and showed me what to do. It was surreal. That taught me the hard lesson that just because you have the plumbing doesn't mean you know anything about how to use the toolkit."

Bridie winced. "First time's always the hardest," she said. "It doesn't just...happen., like it would if our bodies were made in any sane way. We're the only bloody mammal that can't just nurse our young without someone telling us how first."

"How does that work, though?" Maire asked. "You being able to nurse when you're still so early on? Is it some kind'v, I dunno, magic that they do?" Ever since Sean, they'd all been curious about just what healing powers Thranduil actually had, and how they worked. It had been a damn nasty wound, and by the time he was done, there was no sign of it.

"That's the only version of an answer I am able to understand. It's an ability they have, all of them. Thanadir can heal too, it's just that of the bunch, Thranduil has the most skill and...the others seem to have limits, to what they can do or what they can do at one time. But Thranduil, I'm not sure what he _can't_ fix."

Thranduil had been listening, because that was not avoidable, and thinking very seriously. These villagers were under his wing, in a way. And while he did not wish to be burdened beyond reason, it occurred to him that he had a gift he could give them of inestimable value. It would not only be a very decent thing to offer, it might buy his people goodwill that would prove incalculable. He joined them, and was about to speak when something distracted Maire, who excused herself momentarily. Which was just as well, because his words were mostly for Bridie. "Could the three of us step away, for a moment? There is something I would like to tell you that I would rather not turn into an uproarious discussion just now."

With a puzzled look, a shrug and a nod, Bride headed for the pub's back room, yanking the door open and ushering them inside.

"Thank you," said Thranduil. "I have been thinking. A consequence of us entering your lives is that you are learning that we have abilities you do not possess, through no one's fault. I have given this a great deal of consideration, and I think it is time I offered this. As you were just discussing, I can heal most anything wrong with a mortal body. Disease, injury, all of it. I want to help those who live in Lasg'len." He looked into her eyes, but then looked away. "But I am not one of your doctors, nor do I wish to be. I do not wish to be asked to help with every cut and bruise. And as with what happened to Earlene's brother...if I cannot be there in time, there is also nothing I can do. I cannot raise the dead, nor can I keep one who is aging alive indefinitely; I cannot overcome your mortality. Yet there may be times when you have need and nowhere else to turn; it is for this, that I wish to offer my help. But as with everything else about us, outsiders must not know. Do you understand?"

God, wouldn't that be grand...and a giant relief. "You've got no idea how good it is, to hear you offer," Bridie said. "Doc Reilly retired, and I'm the closest thing we've got to an in-town medical professional. Ratiri, he comes as we need him, but he lives an hour away. I can handle garden-variety shite - cuts and bruises, as you say - but for something worse, Christ yes I'd be grateful as hell." She sighed. "I'll admit, the forest and you lot in it are why we're having an issue finding a new doctor. Bringing in outsiders'd be dangerous, and we can't get Ratiri to move here permanently. We'd need to shift Lorna for that, and I'm not sure that's possible." Looking at him, she added, "How does it work, your magic? Is it even something that can be explained?"

"Ratiri and I had this conversation," he said, a little helplessly. "I can only explain that I have an energy, that I suppose you would call 'magic', that I can send to bring health to overcome disease, to knit what is broken into wholeness. It is helping along, at an accelerated rate, what the body can already do. It happens at the level of the very small structures in the body...forgive me, I do not have the vocabulary of your scientific disciplines. That is the best I can do, to describe. I am sorry, that I cannot do better."

Bridie laughed. "Of course he did, and I've no doubt he'll try to foist medical books on you, if he hasn't already. I'm glad as hell for your offer, in any event, but how can we get ahold'v you?" She really doubted they had mobiles.

"Do you understand the borders of the forest? That the edge of Earlene's driveway at the cottage is one part, and the standing stone before the trees nearest the village is the other?"

Bridie nodded. Of course she understood; those were the exact places they'd always known never to go past.

"If you are inside of those boundaries, by even so much as two feet, I can hear your thoughts. Anyone's thoughts. Were you to go there, and call out for me aloud or in your mind, it matters not, I will hear you. If I am asleep, I might need a little extra...effort. The only exception would be is if we were away; obviously if we have travelled outside the forest, this does not help. It is best that you do not enter the woods themselves. No one from the village would be harmed, but you would become lost, and one of us would have to find you. Earlene does have electronic devices; if we are at her cottage it would be possible to contact us there. She will give you the information." Earlene fished around in her pockets, grateful when Bridie pulled a pen out of her purse. Napkins abounded, and soon this was cared for.

He could hear thoughts inside the forest...Jesus, better not let _that_ get out. No surprise Earlene trusted him enough to do that, given they were married and all, but it _was_ a bit surprising that Lorna and Ratiri would. Either way, it was going to stay on the quiet. "It's good to know," she said, "and thank you. I mean it."

"You are welcome," he said, appearing to be genuinely happy. They exited the room, and rejoined the others.

"Thranduil, I am sorry, but we should be thinking about walking back. I'd been hoping to put a decent dinner on the table before Allanah becomes hungry again." Thanadir had almost finished his beer, and...that seemed entirely reasonable.

"If you'd come back in a day or two - let's call it two - we can have a potluck," Bridie said. "I know there's more in town that'd like to see that little one, and hear your news."

Earlene and the ellyn looked back and forth, each hoping the other would think this was suitable. Three heads nodded back, and smiled. "About this time? And what can I bring, or do you want to email me? Otherwise I'll just make something up…"

Bridie laughed. "Yeah, around this time. Bring some'v that milk I know you've got to have. I know you've got a cow out there, and we'd all love some real milk."

"Seriously?" Earlene laughed. "OK, special order from Buttercup. Do you want me to pasteurize it?"

"Probably a good idea, given the kids'll be having some. Just to be safe. I've never actually heard'v anyone getting sick off truly raw milk, but I just know I'm tempting fate if you don't," Bridie said.

"I understand. Were it not for the unusual situation, later on the stuff'd never touch Allanah's lips without it being pasteurized until she was much older. Can't be too careful when it's other people's health. And, we will see you then. I'll tell Lorna and Ratiri, too." They waved their good-lucks, and left for the cottage.

Over the intervening days since they'd last visited the forest, Lorna had discovered that trying to meditate was something of an exercise in frustration.

She couldn't turn her brain fully off without chemical aid. She just couldn't do it, try though she did. Even while wandering the woods, enjoying the summer warmth, she turned things over in her mind - work things, family things. Dealing with Aidan had been unpleasant, but not unduly difficult thanks to Niamh (who got sent a very nice bottle of whisky for her efforts); all Earlene wound up having to do was sign a few forms and decide what to do with the corpse. Ratiri pushing the "she's pregnant and traumatized and acquired a surprise baby early" excuse had been surprisingly effective, so much so that Lorna had only needed to really shout at one person. She'd been almost disappointed.

Ratiri insisted her walks be gentle, which meant he always accompanied her in case she...tripped, or something. Lorna honestly didn't know what he thought might go wrong, and didn't particularly care to ask. That he hovered like a mother hen was endearing as hell, so she let him, for once not averse to the idea of someone fussing over her. It gave him joy, in an odd sort of way, so she'd let him have it.

His things had been trickling their way into her cottage, though he hadn't properly moved in yet. The first night he spent at her house elicited much comment from the pub regulars, until she threatened to lamp every bloody one of them out if they gave him any grief over it. Christ, it was going to be _so much worse_ when she let on she was up the yard. She didn't even want to think about it.

Just now, though, Ratiri was trying to teach her yoga, saying that she would want to stay flexible when she started developing an actual bump. Mat rolled out on the lounge floor, she was stretching - carefully - with her fingers hooked over her toes.

"I can touch my foot to the back'v my head," she pointed out. "I'm pretty flexible already."

"Don't you dare try that right now," he said. He sat facing her, cross-legged, the sunlight glinting on his hair. "That can wait until post-partum. Several _months_ post-partum." The very thought made him twitch a bit. "I know you don't like being reminded that you're small, Lorna, but you are, and you're carrying twins. There's no such thing as too much preparation."

She grimaced. "At your height, what're the odds of these two being, y'know, huge?" Releasing her toes, she sat back, crossing her own legs.

"Very tall parents don't necessarily produce oversized babies," he said, smiling a little. "But at your size, even babies of a more average weight might prove an issue. You've got narrow hips. I know that the Elves can heal pretty much anything, but I doubt they can do a C-section, so we'll have to consider that it might be necessary to give birth in hospital. There's a difference between healing someone and somehow widening their pelvis, and I don't think the latter is actually possible."

"It'd probably hurt like a bitch," Lorna said, with another grimace. "There'd be fewer questions later on down the line if we had them in hospital anyway. Christ, I'm not looking forward to telling the village about this."

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"Because I guarantee you we'll get hounded to get married right off." They'd never actually talked about marriage, because it was too early to even be considering it. She was hoping they'd end up there someday, and was pretty sure they would, but now was not the time. She'd be damned if she'd let anyone railroad her into something for the wrong reasons, and anyone who tried was in for a guided tour through whatever hell she could produce. "And I'd really rather not have to lamp anyone out right now."

Ratiri didn't even want to _think_ about what Indira would have to say. While she wasn't an overly traditional woman, in a few ways she was, and he was quite sure this would be one of them. "If they get too annoying, at least we can go spend a long weekend at the Halls. Hopefully, if they know we'll just pack up and leave when we're not strictly needed, they'll at least pause before speaking."

Lorna snorted. "Not likely, but hope springs eternal." When he stood, she let him pull her to her feet, and for a moment just stood with her arms around him, head rested lightly on his chest. He ran a gentle hand along the curve of her spine, and she smiled. Yes, this was going to turn into a nightmare and a bloody half in not much time at all, but Ratiri was proving to be everything she could have hoped for. This was hardly the ideal start of a relationship, but at least it was working, and it helped that both of them wanted the twins. They were doing a bit better than just muddling through.

Her computer let out its e-mail notification - the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing. Earlene had sent her the link that the website that had produced the Star Trek transporter noise, but the TARDIS was louder and easier for her to hear from the lounge. She went to check it, and grinned.

"Earlene and the Elves are having a do at the pub in Lasg'len," she said. "News'v the sprogs got out, so there's a little informal party tonight." It would be something of a relief to see just how these things were meant to go, too, when she had to do one in Baile. She just hoped there wouldn't be too much beer - the smell of it was beginning to do unpleasant things to her stomach, though she could deal with it for now. Ratiri had told her that likely wouldn't last; she hadn't yet hit the morning-sickness phase, but if she was already having a touchy stomach due to smells, she'd probably hit it fairly soon. Oh joy.

"Did you get the baby booties done?" he asked, peering over her shoulder.

"I had to pick the left apart and put it back together, but I did," she said. "And I've got Gran's baby clothes. They're almost a hundred years old now. Family heirloom."

And it was a _family_ heirloom, because she'd done some research, and had a bit of news for Earlene. After everything, hopefully it would be happy.

Figuring out what to bring was a bit difficult, but Mairead had given her a platter of cookies she hadn't actually got into yet, so there was that.

She had a bit of charcoal biscuit before they left, and brushed her hair out before putting it back into a smoother braid. On such a warm evening, she figured they'd take the Charger, and enjoy the wind through their hair on the motorway.

"It's weird," she said, adjusting the seat once she'd got in the car. "I feel like I ought to feel more pregnant, so I swear I've just got weird phantom...nothings." She had no idea how to articulate it, but that was the way it was. She kept thinking she was going to feel something moving, even though it was far too early for that.

"You'll be feeling real things soon enough," Ratiri said. "Are you actually taking your vitamins?"

"...When I remember," she said, a little guiltily. She actually drove at a reasonable pace through town, but that went out the window as soon as they were past the border. Being up the yard hadn't yet changed her driving habits, though actual _babies_ probably would. "Honestly, I try."

"Do, or do not," Ratiri said. "There is no 'try'." The very slight arch of his eyebrow, when she glanced at him, utterly cracked her up.

"All right then, Yoda, I'll work something out." She didn't dare poke him in the side while driving, but as soon as they'd reached the pub (in forty minutes rather than sixty, because her driving really was a special thing) she jabbed her thumb against his ribs, tickling lightly before scurrying out of the car.

"You," he said, "are evil, and one of these days I will make you pay for it. With interest."

Lorna looked at him. "Ratiri, allanah, you are a precious cinnamon roll," she said. "You're not threatening. I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she fetched the cookies from the backseat, grateful they hadn't gone all over.

He briefly considered doing something appallingly childish, like giving her a noogie, but refrained. "Oh, just wait," he said instead, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You will not see it coming."

"I'm sure I won't," she said dryly.

The pub was already on the crowded side, the long tables laden with food, but given that these were Mairead cookies, they'd be popular. Lorna, naturally, couldn't see worth a damn in a crowd, but Ratiri spotted Earlene, who was joined by Thranduil and Thanadir.

"That baby," he said, "is so cute you could use her as a weapon."

Lorna burst out laughing, letting him lead her. "Ratiri says you could use Allanah as a weapon, she's so cute," she said, somehow not making grabby-hands.

Earlene handed Allanah over to Lorna, knowing that it was what she wanted most, greeting both of them somewhere in there. "She's a big hit here at the pub, having taken everyone over with her superpowers, " she joked. "Quite the exciting week, and this helps make up for how it started," she said enthusiastically. The food looked amazing.

"I've brought Mairead-cookies," Lorna said. "Lucky I had them on hand. She doesn't actually know about the sprogs yet, but I swear she's got some instinct, because she keeps giving me food. Lots of food." Allanah, gurgling happily, grabbed her braid and examined it with tiny fingers. "And what're you looking for, little one? Just don't eat it, yeah?"

Naturally, the baby did just that. "Lovely. Why don't you give me that back now, allanah. And I call you that like it's an endearment, not your name. Because _that_ won't get weird."

"I'm sure she'll live," Ratiri said, running a hand over the baby's downy tuft of red hair. She stared at him, round-eyed, so enraptured it was all Lorna could do not to laugh.

"I think you've got an admirer. Has she settled in well - no more problems feeding?"

"Everything has gone really well. I'm not sure I ever had a problem aside from the part where I did not know what to do or how to do it the first time," she said with mild embarrassment. "I'm not even usually shy or...reserved. I could stand here now on full display and not care. It was just something about feeling so stupid, for having the anatomy and no idea what to do with it. Oh well, live and learn," she said cheerfully. "And how have you both been doing...has some time to settle into the idea happened?" she asked hopefully.

Lorna looked at Ratiri. "Yes, and no," she said. "Mainly because dealing with the village'll be a nightmare once they find out. We've been slowly moving Ratiri in, a bit at a time, but once they find out I'm up the yard...God. I think we might come stay in the Halls for a bit, if it gets too obnoxious."

"If Indira has an issue with it, I'll quit," Ratiri said. "I have money, and I won't let anyone hound me. I'm not sure that she would _too_ much, but out-of-wedlock babies aren't exactly encouraged in Indian society."

"Nor in Ireland," Lorna muttered, "but sod all that. I talked to Orla - she's coming out to take a look at my cottage next week, and if you're willing, I can ask her to see your property, too."

"God yes," Earlene huffed. "And I was serious, when I talked about having room for all of us. We're all not going anywhere, and if a remodel or new home is going to get done, it's going to be in such a way that you have a place that's comfortable for all of you, both here and...further inland. And, excuse me for all it's not my native country, but that's horseshit, for anyone to say things like that to you. This is 2016, and you don't go and wed because of a pregnancy. It's none of anyone's goddamn business, and I'll happily get a cab to Baile and put my foot up anyone's arse I hear about that's saying stuff like that to you. It's fine for a concerned close friend or family member to have their polite say, one time only. After that...completely unacceptable," she said, with a certain level of...they weren't sure what...coming into her expression that was nearly as alarming as Lorna working up one of her heads of steam.

Lorna looked at Ratiri, and though neither had telepathy, they were both wondering the same thing: were the hormones kicking in? _Probably_ , Lorna thought, but hell, she'd take it. "I might just take you up on that," she said, gently rocking Allanah. "Ratiri wants me to keep my blood pressure down. Nevermind that I've never had issues with it," she added, giving him a dry look.

"You're forty years old and you're carrying twins," he said firmly. "I'd rather you avoid pre-eclampsia, and I'm sure you would, too." He rather wished he had even a fraction of Thranduil's power, because, though everything seemed perfectly fine this early on, if something did go wrong, in a village like Baile...it didn't bear thinking about. Lorna was very healthy; her age shouldn't, theoretically, put her or the twins in much peril, and yet he worried, because he was a pediatrician, and knew just how many things could really go wrong.

Earlene's eyes widened and she swallowed and her voice had completely abandoned the energetic tones of her near-tirade. "Do what he says, Lorna. That's nothing to fool around with. Not even a little." She did not want to say aloud that that same illness was why Allanah had no mother; she knew that she really didn't _know_ about such things. But that this could be a risk to her friend, her friend who did not live with them...fear had settled over her.

Earlene's sudden shift alarmed Lorna. "Are you all right?" she asked, shifting Allanah in her arms. "I do, mostly. Do what he says, I mean."

"Except take your vitamins every day," Ratiri said, though he too was looking at Earlene, and wondering how she knew to fear such a condition. Thranduil, he was sure, would not have told her about it...Allanah. Allanah had no mother. _Ah._ "She should be fine," he said to her. "Her family history of childbirth is positive, but it never hurts to be safe."

"I'm working on that," she said, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. "I haven't had a drink in a month. I call that in itself a victory."

Earlene tilted her head. "Thranduil could...let you, if you did that around him. But you still can't have much, and I don't even ask about the elven wine. Honestly I've sort of given it up, because not being able to drink all I want to has made it seem like it's pointless. Though, wine at dinner is still nice, I guess. That it's not a total moratorium has been a thing most don't get to do.

Now it was Lorna's eyes that widened. " _Could_ he? Christ, I'd give someone's left arm for some hard cider. The smell'v beer's put me off a bit, but cider just smells like cider." She wasn't drooling, honestly. Not really.

Ratiri laughed. "So long as it won't do any harm, I don't see any reason why not." It wasn't true alcoholism with Lorna, he knew; it was the psychological need, not the physical. If she could have a bit, she'd be satisfied, or so he hoped.

"Did you want me to ask him?" Earlene queried. "As usual, I don't actually know what this involves. I suppose it would be best to get that part clear beforehand."

"Please do," Lorna said. "Seriously, I will give him someone's left arm. In a velvet box."

"She'd do it, too," Ratiri said.

Earlene's eyes slightly unfocused as she spoke to her husband across the room. "He will be over in a moment." And sure enough he was just that, bearing a glass of the hard cider Lorna asked.

"Not too fast," he said, offering Lorna the drink. "And, hello. You were both missed, as always. Though, Earlene and I have been spending much time reading the books you helped us acquire, Ratiri. We are nearly done with The Silmarillion."

"Oh, I plan on savoring this," she assured him, handing Allanah to Ratiri, who happily bounced the little girl. "He's been teaching me yoga, and trying less successfully to teach me to meditate."

"Her mind is never truly quiet," Ratiri said, eying her with a mingling of exasperation and affection. "No matter what I try. I dread what our children will be like."

"Honestly, I do, too," she said.

Thranduil tilted his head. Her mind had been quiet, once, but only when she went into that accursed state of mind he'd taken away from her. And there was very little else he was willing to do, to manage her psyche, out of fear he'd already done more than he should have. To heal the broken, that was one thing. But to alter a personality...no. That was beyond what was moral. Yet he guessed that if a day could come when she could experience some true peace and happiness, that she would better be able to find stillness. What Ratiri could not understand was the degree to which she'd not had it. And he hoped, very much, that these children, and this man, would give her that which she'd been denied.

Still savoring her cider, Lorna glanced around the room. It was getting ever fuller, and she spied several gift-bags here and there; Earlene was going to be going home with baby gifts, whether she wanted any or not. "So, I did a bit'v research," she said. "About what we found on Ellis Island." She pulled a rather crumpled piece of paper out of her handbag. "My great-granddad on my da's side was name Aidan Donovan. He grew up in a children's home in Dublin," she said, passing the paper to Earlene. "Take a look at that picture."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Earlene breathed. The resemblance to gran was unmistakable. Hell the resemblance to the whole family... _she_ was the one who was the outlier, appearance-wise. "We're...what even _is_ that?" Genealogical relationships and degrees of removal were never her strong suit.

"Third cousins, I think," Lorna said. "Second or third. I'm not so grand at that sort'v thing myself, which is kind'v sacrilege, since I'm Irish. We're meant to be able to trace our family tree out to sixth cousins and their distant relations. Either way, though," she added, laughing a little. "Surprise. I won't tell Mairead if you don't want me to, though."

"I…" Earlene stammered, looking at her. "I want to get this right first. Wait. Cousins is when it's your parents, that are siblings. And second cousins is when it's your grandparents. So it would make sense that third cousins are for great-grandparents, which is where we're at. But what is the thing when people are 'removed'? We're going to be saying this all over the place, let's not muck it up." She fished out her phone and started tapping in words. "You've got to be shitting me, you need a PhD in gobbledygook to understand this," she said, trying to puzzle it out. One chart to the other, they didn't seem to make sense in English. "Ohhhh...wait I see what is wrong. I'm not looking at this right. Our common ancestor isn't Aidan Donovan, it's actually Padraig and Eíthne. My great grandparents, your great-great grandparents. So if I use this chart then we are….second cousins once removed. Thranduil! You are Lorna's second-cousin-once-removed-in-law! See, we really are all family! Who'd've known?" Beaming, Earlene cocked her eyebrow at Lorna. "Are we allowed to hug on account of special occasion and all?" She was teasing. _Mostly_.

Thranduil's eyes widened. Their children would actually be blood relatives, however distantly. Eru help him, _that_ he had not known. The edges of Thanadir's mouth were twitching.

Lorna looked at Earlene, and at Thranduil's wide eyes, and grinned. "Why not?" she said. "Group hug."

Behind her, Ratiri choked on a laugh as she threw her arms around the pair of them, a little too theatrically for sheer necessity.

Thanadir was losing his battle and was now actually snickering at his King's expression. Not to be unkind; he liked Lorna. But it was beyond funny to see that his sovereign had acquired an unexpected relative. Relatives. _And did not Lorna have many siblings?_

"Thranduil! This makes Mairead and her family relatives too! Just think of the cakes!" Earlene looked at him carefully, noticing that he went a little pale at the word 'Mairead'. "I think he needs a drink," she said to Ratiri, who was openly laughing. "Better get something stiff."

"Poítin," Lorna said, gingerly patting Thranduil on the shoulder. "He needs some poítin. John'll give you the good stuff."

Off Ratiri went, still laughing, and Allanah laughed with him.

Thranduil turned to Lorna, worry suddenly coming over his face. "I do not mean to insult you. I am happy. I am just….I did not expect…Mairead..."

"Brain lock. Worst case I've seen in awhile," Earlene said, patting him on the shoulder while she held her arm around his waist. "It happens," she said, with sympathy.

Lorna didn't even try to smother her grin. "Wouldn't've expected it from him, but finding out you're related to Mairead _would_ be a bit much," she said, while Ratiri returned with the poítin. Just to be an utter shit, she added, "Just knock it all back. Go for it."

Sniffing it cautiously, he could not detect anything about it except that it was alcoholic. Consuming it in a single swallow, he looked up, puzzled. He did feel some mild warmth, as it worked its way to his stomach.

"How many shots was that?" Earlene asked, sniffing at his empty glass and recoiling at the obvious strength of the liquor.

"Eight," Ratiri said, laughing.

"I think I might feel something," Thranduil said. "Just a little to, ah, ease the transition to...Mairead," he said, shaking his head, but smiling now. "Thank you, Ratiri," he grinned.

Earlene looked at Lorna. "Well, let's get the news out in the open. You want to do it or should I?"

"You're the eloquent one," Lorna said, "you'd best do it." She wrapped her arm around Ratiri's waist, tickling Allanah under her chin.

Earlene took Thranduil's empty glass and a nearby spoon and stood up on a chair, noting out of the corner of her eye that Thanadir immediately moved to her side. His overprotectiveness was positively endearing, especially since eventually she was probably going to need it. "WE'VE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE," she said in a voice that revealed years of polished use. A hush fell soon enough.

"In New York, we all visited Ellis Island. That's where many of the emigrants from Ireland first came to American soil, including my gran. In 1912, having sailed from Belfast. And now we've a bit of a story that shows what a small world this is. There are records kept there, and on a whim I searched my gran, whose name was Allanah Donovan; little Allanah here was named for her. Allanah's parents were Eíthne and Padraig, and gran was only a few years old on arrival. Now, what I did not know was that my gran had an older brother, Aidan Donovan. My gobshite of a brother, rest his soul, was named after this boy. Little Aidan was rejected at Ellis Island, forced to sail back to Ireland alone while the rest of the family stayed in the States. And what Lorna here has found out, is that Aidan Donovan is her own great-great grandfather. So Lorna and I are second cousins once removed."

Cheers of enthusiasm went up all around, and Earlene saw that especially Mick was almost falling off his barstool. But she wasn't done yet, and held up her hand. "There's just a tiny bit more. I mentioned that gran came to America in 1912. But what I didn't tell you was that they were originally to have sailed on a different ship. They arrived in June of that year. The vessel they were to have taken, but had to delay their plans for some reason in order to get the next one, was the R.M.S Titanic, that sailed in April." Wide eyes and murmurs greeted that bit of news. "And one last thing. Something else happened, that almost prevented Eíthne and Padraig from being able to come to America. Eíthne's sister Carmel was their sponsor. She worked at a place that would go down in history as the Triangle Shirtwaist factory. The year before my family emigrated, Carmel survived the fire at that factory that killed one hundred and forty-six women. Which is all to say, it is apparently hard to get rid of us, because here we are all back, reunited in Ireland!"

More cheers went up all around, and now the village had a story to keep busy with for at least the next two weeks. Earlene stepped off her chair, now quite done and wanting another soda with lime juice. Lorna applauded. "And now that'll spread around the whole village inside'v a day," she said. "You know this means Mairead'll give you ten tons'v baby shite, if I do ever actually tell her. She might do anyway, just because she loves babies."

Privately, Ratiri thought Mairead was rather terrifying, and somewhat dreaded telling her about Lorna's pregnancy. She could be like a giant battle-axe if she chose; the kind of woman who two thousand years ago would have been driving a war-chariot while covered in woad.

"Eh, you have to tell her. It's family. Though if you want, let's save it for now. Sooner or later you both will end up with a similar shindig to this one in Baile. When that happens, I'll make the same announcement if you wish. There is no need to mention just when you knew, as I see it, and as you and I are the actual friends, it'd make sense you'd tell me first. She doesn't scare me. Hell she's rather a bit like me, it's just that I like to think I know to turn that, uh, force of personality off most of the time and keep it in a jar until it's needed. If she doesn't like it, let her argue with me."

"She'll love it whenever she hears it," Lorna laughed. "The Irish only deny our families if they've done something awful, like supported the English. Then she'll want to piece together everything about our family back to the time'v the bloody Crusades."

"You'll wind up with a scrapbook," Ratiri warned. "One as heavy as a bag of bricks. I know Mairead's type." Allanah made a grab for his nose, and he patiently let her, though gently directed her tiny hand away when she actually reached for his nostrils.

Somebody pass by bearing a pint of Guinness, and Lorna's stomach lurched, and then did more than lurch. She must have turned green, because Ratiri said, "Breathe through your nose," in one breath and , "Thranduil, help," in the next.

The King's hand immediately touched her back, causing the nausea to dissolve away. "I am sorry, Lorna, for not paying closer attention. Is this becoming a problem?" he said, looking at both Lorna and Ratiri.

Earlene reached for the baby, to let them focus on what she guessed was a near-nausea incident. She'd not had a whisper of a twinge, so far. In fact, she had never felt healthier or more full of vitality. However, she figured it would be tasteful not to mention that fact. Though, now she was curious...was it her, or had Thranduil helped her all along and kept problems away?

"Thanks," she said, sighing in relief. "It's the Guinness, or any grain alcohol it seems. It's not a problem yet, except for that."

"It will be, though," Ratiri said. "Give or take another fortnight. That's when it typically sets in for human women, if they're going to have trouble with it."

 _Definitely shut up_ , thought Earlene with a look of sympathy. She'd been reading more since talking with Bridie, and had seen quite a list of problems that had been nowhere in sight. She was also becoming ravenously hungry.

Now Thranduil reached for Allanah, as she heard him in her mind. _Go with Thanadir, Earlene. Eat. It would be best not to bring food back here just yet._

"Excuse us," she said, already yielding to the gentle tug at her waist from the seneschal. She found him one of the larger plates, handing it to him with a grin.

"You are not having the same problems as Lorna?" he asked her, looking at all the food.

"Not in the least. I have never felt better. I would not mind going running, even right now," she beamed, before she remembered something and her face fell a little. "Thanadir, I never did properly apologize for what I did last week. I am so sorry that I did not think that you would be following me, which was such…." she shook her head. "I was so angry. I do not ever remember feeling like that before, and I was not thinking. Only running. The chase I must have led you on...I wanted to tell you myself that it was not my intention to do that to you. I know what you told me, then, but I still feel badly."

He regarded her with no emotion she could discern, until she began to feel a little uncomfortable. "There is one thing," he finally spoke.

She swallowed. "Yes, Hîr vuin?"

"How?"

Confusion washed over her. "How...what? I do not understand what you are asking."

"How did you outrun me, Earlene?"

The question still baffled. "I ran, Hîr vuin. As fast as I could. I do not know what else I could tell you. It was...running. With...feet."

A strange expression now came over his face. "Are you teasing me, Earlene?" he asked in a strained voice.

"No, Your...I mean, Thanadir, I would not ever, not when you have asked me a question. I am answering you as best I can." She was becoming flustered, and a little hurt. "Please believe me," she added quietly, pleading. Thanadir lived on a bit of a pedestal, in her eyes, and this inexplicable behavior was beginning to cause her distress.

 _Earlene, please eat, now,_ broke into her mind, in a tone that was just as odd as the conversation she'd been having.

 _Yes, Thranduil._

She began to fill her plate and now rather wanted to eat alone, in a corner, where she could at least count on herself not to be weird. There were little tiny sandwiches, and crackers and cheese, vegetables and dip, and some angel had made individual serving shepherd's pies that were still warm, perfectly browned on top. And _oh god, a real corned beef..._ not looking at Thanadir, she took her plate and retreated to a deserted table far at the back of the pub, feeling ravenous but forcing herself to chew her food and eat at a normal pace.

"Is there anything you can give Lorna, for when the morning sickness truly sets in?" Ratiri asked Thranduil. "Charcoal biscuits don't do much good in that area. Wrong cause of nausea altogether."

"And you've not lived until you've sicked up in your own hair," she said, shaking her head. "Not that you lot would know, but trust me, it's not pretty. I got so drunk my first New Year's in Baile that I threw up in my hair, tried to wash it in the tub, fell over, and couldn't get up. Beautiful, it was. Mairead's never let me forget it."

"Maybe the time away from drinking has some merit after all," Thranduil said, wishing that she had seen fit to take better care of herself, and worrying over her for something she'd done absolutely years ago. He shook his head at himself, electing to change the subject. "I hope that you are able to come to the Halls tonight, or at least stop by the forest. There is a cordial, a medicine, that could help you with this problem when you cannot be near me; I can give you a supply or send Thanadir for some if need be. And Lorna, there is another matter, something else I am not certain Earlene has remembered to ask you. Or rather, ask you to ask Niamh. When the process was begun to adopt Allanah, we did not include me because we feared to draw attention to the fact that we were not legally married. But now we are, and Aidan is not returning. I wish to adopt this little girl as well. It is the most security we can provide her, then."

"I can do that," she said. "Shouldn't be hard for her. Christ, at this rate I think she might just wind up your personal solicitor. Even not knowing anything about you lot, you're already the most interesting clients she's ever had. I'll check in with Shane while I'm at it, and see where he is with the rest'v those gems." She looked up at Ratiri. "We can come to the Halls," she said. "I've got nothing tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure the surgery's dead empty."

"It is," Ratiri confirmed. "Nothing dragging us home this evening."

"Good," Thranduil smiled. "Would you excuse me, to eat? I do not wish to bring food over here and add to the problem."

Lorna laughed. "Go ahead," she said. "I've got another present for Earlene, but I'll give it once everything's over."

Ratiri leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're going to have far too much fun with this family information, aren't you?"

"Not half so much as Mairead, but yeah," she said, grinning up at him, though she sobered a touch. So far as Earlene's known all this time, she hadn't got any family left. Now, there are times I'm not sure I'd wish Mairead on anyone, but if Earlene lets her, Mairead'll make sure she never feels like she hasn't got family. I'm more subtle, which is not something I ever thought I'd be able to say."

"It _is_ a bit disturbing," he said. "But then, I've met your sister. At least if she castrates me, Indira can fix it. Though that would be a bit awkward."

Lorna tried to smother a laugh, and failed completely. "That won't happen. Mairead likes you, and she'll know I'd skin her if she did. And you know, I think she might be our ally against the people who harp on us about getting married."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. He would have expected the exact opposite from her somewhat traditionally-minded sister.

Lorna rested her head against his shoulder. "Our mam married my da because she got up the yard with my brother Pat," she said. "To say it didn't end well would be the understatement'v the century. This isn't the nineteen-fifties - there's no reason to rush anything." Maybe it ought to be weird, talking so frankly about marriage when they'd only known one another four months, but somehow it wasn't. She'd been hoping before the twins that, at some distant date, they'd get there anyway.

Theirs was not the stuff of sweeping romance - they weren't Thranduil and Earlene. They were both too awkward to make a properly romantic story, but they were nevertheless real, and she felt she'd known Ratiri far longer than she actually had. Lorna didn't believe in soulmates, but she _did_ believe in kindred spirits. Something in Ratiri had called to her from the moment she set eyes on him, though she hadn't realized that at first. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but she'd met many handsome men before him that she hadn't actually been drawn to. All the others she'd been content to admire from afar, impassive, regarding them like - well, like she regarded the elves. Living art; pretty, but not something she was tempted to touch. Ratiri was the first she'd ever had any actual urge to speak to, let alone know.

Maybe it was a good thing she'd got up the yard when she did. The pair of them were so reticent that otherwise it might have taken them twenty years to get together.

Earlene mowed down her food and still wanted more, and rose up for seconds only to see the ellyn staring at one another near the table of food. Or rather, to see the ellyn staring at one another before Thanadir cast his eyes down and bowed his head before turning and walking to the table she was just leaving. _Uh-oh_ , she thought. She had seen a similar exchange one other time, and unless she was much mistaken, the seneschal had just been rebuked. Now she felt even worse. This had to have something to do with her, and she did not want him in trouble on her account. Thanadir did so much for her; if he was angry with her, why did he not just say so? She filled her plate again, choosing a large helping of fruit and cabbage salad, and more meat and cheese. Returning to the table, she saw that Thanadir had chosen the seat opposite her. Glancing at him nervously, she took her seat, only to realize he had no food. Frowning, she started to get up again, only to hear Thranduil say _Sit._ He'd been right behind her. Was she going blind? He handed Thanadir a full plate, seated himself, and then spoke.

"Thanadir?" he said Thranduil quietly, but expectantly.

"Earlene," the seneschal said, causing her to look up from munching her cabbage, startled. "Please forgive me for the manner in which I spoke to you. I was being unkind because I do not wish to accept that you are capable of outrunning me. Because I do not wish to believe a mortal is capable of doing anything better than I can. I have failed in my duty to my King and to you."

She felt her stomach turning. "Thanadir, I do not understand. Was I wrong, to believe that you liked me?"

"He likes you, Earlene. But he liked you better when he also felt justified in believing that he was in every way superior to you." Thranduil's words were quietly spoken but brimming with ire. "I would have thought that he might have learned from my own mistakes, mistakes that I freely confessed to him." The King stabbed his fork into his shepherd's pie in irritation, while Thanadir hung his head in shame. "It is extremely unattractive, is it not, to see that one who is otherwise so accomplished has become so prideful that he cannot find it in himself to allow another thinking being to have just one or two things in all this wide world in which to be his equal, or his better?"

Witnessing this admonishment was not what she wished to be doing, and _dammit all to hell_ that she was still even hungry. Her mind quickly sifted the sum of what she had seen and heard. And something came to mind, too. Thanadir had told her once that he would _especially_ not choose to wed with a mortal. And while she still could not fault him for that...humans had a saying, "too big for his britches." Perhaps Thanadir had lost perspective, a little? She glanced at him again. He frankly seemed close to tears. She frowned. Everyone fucked up, now and then. Mostly, she wanted this uncomfortable scene to go away; this was a party, for god's sake.

"Thanadir," she said softly. "Please look at me." Those eyes were filled with sorrow that she had to force herself to ignore, or else she'd never be able to say what she felt she needed to. "You are not human, so maybe something you do not know about us is that we easily become too lost in our own point of view and lose our way. I do not know one of us who has not, myself included. I forgive you. I love you, Thanadir. Not for all the many things you can indeed do so very well, but for your heart. For your kindness, and your compassion. I think you know that I admire you a great deal, that I look up to you. In many ways you are the brother I wish I could have had and did not. I…" She froze, because she had just manage to define for herself what this elf was to her, which had eluded her for a very long time. And it _hurt_. She rose up without a word and walked as fast as she could for that back room, praying that it was empty.

Thranduil did not move, as Allanah dozed against his shoulder while he continued to eat. Thanadir had a chance here, to begin to correct his misstep, and he would do it of his own volition, or not. It took exactly three seconds, but the seneschal rose and followed Earlene. Thranduil was pleased to see this choice, though his irritation was far from abated.

Grief washed over her like a wave crashing into the shore as the door swung closed behind her. Thanadir was, in her mind, what her gobshite of a brother was _supposed_ to have been like, and now Thanadir was being a bit of a gobshite himself. Could she really feel mad at the elf, just for badgering her as he did? She could understand why he could think all those things. He was an _elf_ , and an exceptional one at that. He _was_ better than her, at most everything, and hell if she knew how she'd run faster than him. Hormones? Give him long enough, and in what few things there were that she did very well, he could push past her. Because he had time on his side, and she did not. She could only make of herself whatever was manageable inside of a few years. An elf having an ego, was that really a first? Not from what she'd read in the books, and, he was a far cry from Fëanor. She could probably find a way to live with him being stuck on himself. Though, Thranduil was right...it was unattractive in someone who otherwise was as attractive as they came, in her estimation. What she cared about more was that she saw him as someone who was supposed to not be Aidan. And that he was _being_ like Aidan, even a little bit...that did not feel good. _What have I ever done to him, except exist?_ Her chin quivered, as tears spilled from her eyes. Arms came around her, _goddamn these elves and their walking through walls._

"Earlene, I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you," he said, openly crying. "This is not the first time my King has censured me for this. I have a problem, and from time to time think too much of myself. And then I say something I should not."

 _Aidan would never apologize. Never._ She held him to her tightly. But then as she thought more and more, she let him go and sought to turn away.

"Earlene?"

She shook her head, trying to dry her tears and sort her emotions as her head spun back around, her eyes flashing at him in anger and disappointment. "I am always going to wonder now, what you really do think of me. I was right. I am nothing but something that interferes with your life, Thanadir, and I would rather you had not said what you did that caused me to believe differently. You had Thranduil to yourself before I came along." She looked at him even more intently, her eyes challenging his. "Is that why you can serve him? Because he is the only one you have ever met that you felt was _better_ than you? Would you even speak to me, were it not for him?" She sucked in air, after the words had tumbled out, not having really meant to say them aloud. _What have I just done?_ Fear washed over her, which did not take away from the fact that everything spoken had been true in her eyes. _I might be just a dumb mortal, but I'm still a lawyer who has outwitted people just as smart as you, Thanadir._

What Earlene did not realize was that the seneschal had once again delved into her thoughts, and was stabbed to his heart by the totality of what he saw there. The words her brother had spoken to her were whirling in the forefront, as was her hurt over her sense of betrayal by him. And for the first time, something that had been completely veiled from him; the full scope of Earlene's ability to logically analyze. A vast and finely tuned instrument, able to take in immense amounts of complex information both tangible and emotional, and process it at dizzying speed. She'd never spoken aloud of this, never let on about her talents in any manner...because she had no ego to go with it. There was no pride that dwelled in her, nothing about her that caused her to hold herself above the other humans around her, even when she so obviously _was_ above them. And that same humility was what allowed her to so easily look up to him, to admire and appreciate him. No upbraiding he had ever heard from his King was able to penetrate the folly of his thinking quite like this insight was managing to do. The magnitude of his mistake and his shortsighted failure was descending on him with a sense of physical weight.

"Please, Earlene," he said, dropping to his knees and taking one of her hands in his. "I have been very foolish. I did not...understand."

She did not pull her hand away, though part of her very much felt like doing just that, as she stared down at him. "I have only one question. Did you just say that of your own volition, or is _he_ is telling you to do this?"

Thanadir's eyes widened in grief to hear her words, even as he realized why she would ask. "I am speaking for myself, just as I am now seeing your mind, Earlene. And that I am seeing your mind is why I can realize how wrong I have been. And the damage I have caused. Thranduil tried to tell me, but hearing was not the same as...seeing. I am so, so sorry, and I beg that you would give me the chance to earn your forgiveness. I wish you would…"

It seemed to her as though he was choking on his own words, but this part was making her curious. Was that the end of his sentence? Or was there more? "You wish I would what?"

"I wish you would help me," he said miserably. "There is no pride in you, only humility. And only now do I see the degree of your own intelligence and achievement, and yet you are not given to the same arrogance of thinking that I am. I can see that I am not better than you. Not at all. I do not wish to keep thinking like this, Earlene, seeing everyone around me as 'better' and 'worse'. I want to change," he said, tears now splashing out of his eyes again.

Glancing at the door in nervousness, she saw that it had a latch. The only thing worse than this conversation would be someone barging in here. Leaning back, she slid it home. This was...awful, but there was only one thing she knew to do. Lowering herself down, she knelt in front of him and took him into her arms. It had never made sense to her, how people gave into this shite thinking in the first place, but if he was lying to her, he was doing a bang-up job of it. Aaaand Thanadir did not lie. She pulled him close to her. "I will try to help you, Thanadir, but mostly this has to be you, helping yourself. No one can make you think differently except...you. I do love you, and it makes me feel better, to hear you say these things. But right now, you must recover your composure. I will not leave you, until you are ready to go back outside." He nodded, his breath catching as he tried to master his feelings. She used the edge of her tunic, which fortunately was a flowery print and would not show moisture, to dab away his tears as he grew quieter.

"I cannot imagine what you think of me," he whispered.

She arched her eyebrows, smiling. "Thanadir, you can read my mind. Surely you are not having to imagine?" More kindly, she added, "You told me once that your thoughts and feelings as elves were not so different than that of humans. I think that is a good thing. It means we can better understand each other, and that our similarities outweigh our differences." Turning his head with her hands, she kissed his cheek. "Come, mellonenin. There is nothing here that will not be made right in time. I do not hold grudges. Please. I cannot bear to see you so unhappy, especially at a celebration."

Nodding, he smiled weakly, and held her tightly once more, standing upright and somehow gracefully taking her with him as he did so.

"I will not open that door until you smile, Thanadir. When I leave this room, I am going to the ladies' room, and you are going to go where you wish, not looking like you are at a funeral."

This elicited a half snort of laughter, and some of the light came back into his eyes. "Thank you, Earlene," he said. "I am very grateful, for what you have said to me. I would like to speak again about this...later."

"I give you my promise, we will."

Forcing his face into a smile, he nodded to her that he was ready to leave. Earlene gave him her best smile as she slid back the latch, and slipped away to the restroom that was very nearby. Thanadir returned to his seat, to face his full plate of food and his King, who ignored his return. With a sigh, he picked up his fork, trying not to let his complete sense of defeat and foundering show outwardly. His eyes travelled across the room, to alight on Ratiri, and Lorna. Unthinkingly, he watched the man as he absentmindedly chewed his first bite of food.

Lorna could just about handle food again, so she and Ratiri made their way to Earlene and the elves. Little Allanah looked to be passed out on Thranduil's shoulder, which was just about the most adorable thing either of them had ever seen.

"Is she sleeping through the night yet?" Ratiri asked, as he and Lorna pulled up chairs. The baby was, he noted, drooling slightly, limp as a noodle in a way only young children could be.

Lorna looked from Thanadir to Thranduil, and fought the arch of an eyebrow. Thranduil looked so neutral she suspected he was pissed off, though she couldn't imagine at what. Thanadir was harder for her to read, but he looked a touch...off, in a very subtle way. Time to chatter, before the atmosphere got even weirder. "I've heard teething's no fun, either," she said. "Let her gnaw on cold things, if it's not already something you've got to do for elf kids. I'm guessing yours are probably a lot less fussy than ours."

Earlene plunked down in her seat, and started in again on her food with obvious relish, looking guiltily at Lorna. "Don't know if you want anything, but these little pies'r to die for," she said, trying not to be appalled with herself for talking while her cheeks were full of cabbage. She flushed slightly pink at her lack of manners, but was honestly still too hungry to care.

"I've got cookies," Lorna said, brandishing one. "Easy on the stomach, and tasty. You've hit the starving phase, have you?"

"It's around the right time," Ratiri said, but he was eying Earlene speculatively. While there was the occasional woman who had a trouble-free pregnancy, it was quite rare, and she was carrying twins - yet she was all but glowing, without even a bag under her eyes. Given that she was still feeding a baby, she really ought to logically look at least a bit run-down, unless Thranduil was constantly buoying her, and could he actually do that, every minute of every day? It was possible, Ratiri conceded, yet he suspected it was not merely that. Scientists weren't supposed to put stock in intuition, but he wasn't that pigheaded.

"Earlene is unusually physically fit, by comparison to others I have seen, Ratiri. She can run for miles, climb easily, and arrived here eating much as the elves do. I have done little to interfere with her, though I know that time will come when it is needed. And yes, I can do as you are wondering. I am very strong, even for an elf."

Glancing at Thranduil, Earlene shrugged. How she had maintained her body was no great thing in her eyes. In some ways, maybe it was the one manifestation of her own foibles; just another manner in which she'd shown off her legendary discipline, albeit without words or fanfare. Her interlude with Thanadir was still very raw in her thoughts. She had her own kind of pride. Everyone did; it was just that she'd always worked very hard not to let hers leak all over the floor because it was so damn uninviting in others, when it did. "Yes," she answered Lorna. "Suddenly there is no such thing as food I don't like. The cabbage, by the way, is particularly sweet," she pointed out enthusiastically.

Ratiri really wanted to ask how and why Thranduil had become so strong, but now was not the place to have that discussion; best to save it for a fireside in the Halls. "Speaking of that, I've bought something, though it's been sitting in my SUV for the last week - it's a basic book on cellular biology. You might not yet know the terms for all the things you can manipulate, but this could prove interesting."

"I made a bit'v a mistake in looking in some'v his other books," Lorna said, nibbling a cookie. "I'd read some on the 1918 influenza, but not much, and I wish I didn't know now. Could've done with that once I'd _had_ these kids." Wrinkling her nose, she added, "I think I'm off cabbage for a bit. I haven't yet hit the hungry stage, but when I do, I'm sure Big Jamie'll keep me fed. Probably try to foist off more than I could hope to eat."

Earlene stood up to go get more food, watching to see that Thanadir had mostly cleaned his plate; his rate of eating was unnaturally slow. She also forced a smile at what Lorna had said, even though the thought of a pregnant woman being fed a steady diet of pub food appalled her. When she returned with more small sandwiches and another shepherd's pie (it wasn't her fault if the rest of this place wasn't eating fast enough) she placed a cupcake in front of his plate without comment. He did not look at her but he smiled, as he peeled the paper off and began to eat it. She glanced around the room as she devoured the pie. "I see that ossification is well underway." There was something extra-amusing about watching the room fall victim to ethanol when you couldn't really have any yourself.

Lorna eyed her, and Thanadir, and Thanadir's plate. All right, what the actual fuck? She wasn't going to ask, but she was definitely going to wonder. Thanadir was almost always outwardly serene, but he seemed downright...subdued, right now. She cast a glance at Thranduil, and was unsurprised to find she got absolutely nothing off him. He could do 'neutral' like no one else she'd ever met. "That it is," she said, turning her attention rather wistfully to the bar. Yeah, she couldn't handle the smell of Guinness right now, but that didn't mean her brain wasn't telling her she still wanted some. "Christ, I've got a present for you - figured I'd give it before everyone else got going. Be right back." She hauled herself to her feet to fetch her gift bag, while Ratiri shook his head.

"I dread once she reaches her third trimester," he said. "She'll be miserable, and I have no doubt she'll take it out on everyone within a ten-mile radius."

"I could do much to keep her comfortable," Thranduil said. "But it would mean altering your living arrangements. I have no expectations and your wishes are your own; I only wish you to know that the offer stands," he said quietly.

"I think she'll be willing before then," Ratiri said. "She'll not want to be living in her cottage while it's being renovated, and she's already in the nesting phase. She has narrow hips, and she's carrying twins, so there's a possibility she'll start dislocating them by her seventh month." He'd only see that happen once, but it hadn't been pleasant for anyone involved.

Thranduil's eye widened and he shook his head. "Not under my care," was the only comment he made. The King seemed strangely distant right now, though, even at the thought, he rose up with a smile. "Excuse me for a moment." Earlene glanced up as she saw him head in the direction of the bar, looking mournfully at her own empty glass before shrugging to herself. She was hungrier than she was thirsty. And yet her eyes lit up to see that in a moment, she was offered another one of the sweet soda water concoctions, and that he had brought one for Thanadir as well. His own was….? "Soda water and lime, meluieg. I tried yours and find that I quite like it."

Lorna made her way through the crowd, bearing a slightly squashed gift bag, a froth of curly ribbon all but obscuring the top. "Sorry," she said, handing it over. "Got a bit carried away, but you can get it open." The next thing she passed over was a spring-switchblade.

Earlene deftly opened the knife and slit the ribbon. "The only thing keeping me from having visions of Siobhan's gift bag is that I know this is from you," she said, shaking her head. They still hadn't, er, pressed that gift into service, not that Lorna needed to know any such thing. Folding the knife again, she handed it back, and reached into the bag carefully, pulling out something that felt like fabric, wrapped in tissue paper, that she moved aside to reveal something that looked very old but in perfectly kept condition. It was a tiny knitted jacket, and matching shorts, obviously hand-made. The color was ivory, though whether that was the original color of the wool or the color the textile had taken on with age, she was unsure. Earlene held it up. "Lorna is this…?" That Lorna would part with what she suspected was one of her family heirlooms stunned her.

"They were my gran's," Lorna said. "She was born in 1914, so they're actual antiques. They won't be fitting quite yet, I think, but they'll be just the right size around when you'll be wanting them. Irish autumn can be nasty."

"Thank you, so much. I'll do the best I can to care for them. And maybe after Allanah's outgrown them, you'd like it back for your own daughter?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to imply in any way that she did not want the gift...but that it could be worn by each of their daughters; she didn't want to be selfish…Earlene was genuinely touched.

"Christ, we can pass them around," Lorna laughed. "Gran'd say they're no use sitting in a box. Mairead'd had them last - I had to go dig through her attic while she was at work."

Someone over by the bar was making noises about opening the rest of the presents. "Might want to get to that, before they riot," she said, shaking her head. The Irish...well, they were certainly themselves.

With a happy sigh, Earlene rose up and offered her hand to Thranduil, who still had a distracted demeanor. _I did the best I could, with Thanadir. I hope I have not disappointed you,_ she sent him.

 _It is not you in whom I am disappointed, meluieg. We will speak of this later. Not now._

With a squeeze to his hand, she took the lead in opening the presents, while Thranduil did his best to appear suitably engaged. The villagers were very kind, giving many small toys, picture books and the like. What Earlene particularly appreciated was that thought had gone into these; no one gave them things of which they already had thousands. And the quilting club, bless them, gave something that was useful immediately; a sort of fabric sling that could be used to cradle Allanah against her for nursing, freeing her arms. For this, especially, she was incredibly grateful, not having thought of such an item herself. They thanked everyone profusely, and then unsurprisingly, Earlene quickly visited the ladies' room again.

Lorna was rather impressed, and hoped Baile would be as creative. Once everything was packed up, the pair of them gathered it all - she insisted on taking some, despite his paranoia about heavy lifting. "None'v this is heavy, you eejit," she said, giving him an affectionate dig with her elbow. "I've got to keep in condition _somehow_ , and running sounds as appealing as a root canal." She'd smoked for too many years to find the idea anything but unpleasant.

Earlene thought privately that nothing sounded better than running, just now. The temperature was perfect, her food had had plenty of time to digest, and her feet practically itched to run. Thranduil's eyebrows raised, and a look of pure mischief came over his face. He had been brooding over a suitable punishment for Thanadir; this had happened one too many times to completely overlooked. _Go, meluieg. Return to the Halls. Go by the entrance nearest the village, or to the cottage and onward. You will not become lost. I have Allanah, and will care for the gifts._

 _Really? I may go running?!_ _Alone?_ Her mental voice brimmed with excitement.

 _All I ask is that you slip away. Say nothing. We will meet you at the Halls, quite soon. Take your time._

This was very odd, but as it was exactly what she wished to do...without a word, she moved gracefully through the crowd of people, and out the back door. Lengthening her stride first into an extended walk, and then a trot, she moved rapidly into a run, her feet flying over the lush green grasses. When she'd had a minute, she would go faster, but for this moment, the feel of the sun on her face and her own wind in her hair was pure joy.

Thranduil was helping Ratiri box all the small gifts, when he heard his seneschal. "Where is Earlene?" he asked with great deference, knowing that he was in disgrace in his King's eyes.

Thranduil looked at him, revealing no emotion. "She wished to run home, and I said Yes," he simply replied. "I imagine she has been gone for a minute or two."

The color draining from his face, he now spoke silently. _Please, which path did she take?_

"Excuse us just a moment," Thranduil said to Ratiri, walking some distance away. The King regarded Thanadir coldly. _You are no longer required to follow her everywhere, Thanadir. It is not in either of our interests for you to be tasked with something so obviously distasteful to your standards._

 _Please, my King. Do anything you wish to me, but not this. I have a terrible fault but I care deeply about Earlene. I will not forgive myself if she is injured and I am not there to help. Please, do not take away my chances to repair the wrong I have done. Please…_

Determined that he had squirmed enough for the moment, Thranduil answered. _The cottage path. And do not think this excuses your behavior._

 _I do not, Thranduil. I know that you have no reason to believe me, but I sincerely wish to do better. I am ashamed of myself. And I yet expect to hear your judgement for what I have done._

A smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. _Go, Thanadir, if that is what you wish to do. Catch her, if you can._

Without another word, the seneschal disappeared from the room.

They dropped many of the parcels off at Earlene's home, and then took a leisurely walk through the woods to the Halls. Though it was a warm evening, Lorna shivered a bit; being pregnant seemed to make her a touch more sensitive to chills, and Ratiri wrapped his arm around her, letting her lean against him as they walked.

He hoped she'd be willing to move here, later. He was fairly certain she would, out of sheer discomfort, but he'd do his best to persuade her if she were resistant. Once she hit her third trimester, he'd feel much better if she were near Thranduil, just in case. Hip dislocation was awful, and best dealt with by someone with literal healing hands. Otherwise he wasn't worried; her blood pressure was quite good for a woman of her age, and she didn't have diabetes, nor did she have a family history of it, as far as she knew. Her mother, sister, and grandmother had all had uneventful, if somewhat uncomfortable, pregnancies. Still, he would rest easier if she were here.

Thranduil was quiet until they reached the Halls, leading the pair to his quarters. Once they were settled by the fire, he looked at Ratiri. "I spoke with Bridie," he said, "and proposed an arrangement. Lasg'len has no resident healer, and I offered to aid any who should fall gravely ill or sustain significant injury. Bridie knows I can hear whoever crosses the border of my forest, but I said no more concerning my abilities to hear the thoughts of others."

That, Ratiri thought, was a fantastic idea - and that not letting Bridie know any more about Thranduil's telepathy was the wisest course of action. "It's a relief," he said. "I can't be here full-time, and with catastrophic injury, there's much that I just can't do. I don't have the facilities or equipment for it, and with something like acute appendicitis, time can be critical. It could well take an ambulance too long to get here."

"Or heart attacks, or whatever," Lorna said. She was leaning against him, and looking a bit sleepy.

"Exactly. Far too many things can go wrong with the human body," he sighed. "Heart attacks, strokes, cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's, a whole host of neurological disorders...I wish there was some way of duplicating even a fraction of your power. We've come a very long way in such a short span of time, and can cure dozens of things that were untreatable a century ago, but there's so much that's still beyond us." They struggled to find, to create, and Thranduil could heal with nothing more than a touch...sometimes, Ratiri hated being reminded of just how unfair the universe was.

What was he to do, if someone in Baile developed cancer, or had a heart attack? Exactly where was the line of who would receive help, and who wouldn't? Would Indira, or Mairead's family, qualify because they were related to himself and Lorna, but everyone else was banned? As a doctor, he had sworn an oath to do all that he could to aid the afflicted, but this was not his gift, and not his realm, and it left him feeling helpless. He wished, so very much, that Elven medicine involved less magic and more actual, reproducible _medicine_.

Thranduil sighed. "I am well aware that there is an entire planet full of humans who could benefit from what elves can do, Ratiri, and I do not want you to think that I am uncaring. But there simply has to be a limit; this function is not my purpose in this world. I will offer you this: Should you become aware of a need from which you feel you cannot turn aside, I will do as you ask. But I ask you in turn, not to go looking outside of your community for that need. And, I know too that many of your kind succumb before their time to conditions they have brought on themselves. I would ask that you not bring one to me to be healed who will simply turn back to the very thing that sickened them in the first place. Is this a suitable compromise?" he asked.

"It is," Ratiri said, "and thank you." He had no intention of looking for anything at all outside of Baile, medical or otherwise; he'd gone there to retreat from the outside world, too burned out by watching children die. Baile he could look after - Baile, with its tiny population, had little in the way of dire conditions, but one never knew. Cancer could strike anyone, regardless of their personal vices or lack thereof. He'd lost his father and Katherine to it, and he wouldn't have been able to bear watching another die of it knowing there was help to be found. "With any luck, there won't be any need, but the human body is a fickle, often fragile thing."

"Does athelas still exist?" Lorna asked, rather sleepily.

Thranduil tilted his head. "I cannot tell you," he said. "It has not been seen in a great span of time, and was not terribly common even ages ago."

"Well, shit. So why is it you're so much more powerful than other elves, with the healing and shite?" she asked, stretching a bit and snuggling closer against Ratiri. "Is it because you're so old?"

Ratiri had been wondering that himself. Elrond had been written as a great healer, but he'd needed time, and a few tools (like athelas), but Elrond had been, so far as Ratiri had worked out, about six thousand years old at the time of _The Lord of the Rings._ Lorna had told him Thranduil was around three times that.

"As always you have a way with words, my dear friend," he chuckled. "I am not certain I can fully explain this either, but it is because I am King. My father before me had unusual powers of mind and body. When I spoke my vows and assumed his throne, I began to discover I had abilities that were not present before. And before you ask, no, I cannot tell you whence they come. Though if I have wished to believe it is a blessing of the Valar, I hope no one can blame me. I have little to do, now. But long ago, when this was a kingdom of tens of thousands of elves, trust me, I needed all the advantages I could have."

 _Unusual powers of mind and body..._ the words made Lorna shudder a bit. Her da had only been able to hit his children. Christ knew what Thranduil's had done. "I don't believe in coincidences," she said aloud. "If you've got it, it came from somewhere. The odds'v it just happening to you two at random can't be very good." To her, with her lifelong issues with monarchy - she actually made a face, but couldn't help a dry, almost sour smile. "See, you've actually got some like...like divine benediction, that you can demonstrate. Human kings hundreds'v years ago believed they were divinely appointed for no actual reason except that they'd come out'v the right snatch. They couldn't actually _do_ anything like you can."

"That," Ratiri said, "is because we as a species can be staggeringly idiotic. We've got a bit better over the centuries, but still."

He grinned, only for his expression to transform. "I must leave for a moment. Can you stay with Allanah?" he asked. "I need to help Earlene." He barely waited for their puzzled nods before dashing off.

With just the right amount of food and drink in her, Earlene was feeling more energetic than ever, and stopped just for thirty seconds at the cottage to put on her favorite off-road running shoes, the 'barefoot' ones that basically looked like a sleeve for feet. Mostly they gave just a little protection in case of stepping on some hidden sharp thing, which was never the worst idea. Actually yelling "Wheeeee" in her delight, she dashed off into the woods, much to the amusement of Rîniel, who at that moment was not far distant as she made her way to Buttercup for the afternoon milking. The King's mortal wife was pleasing to see, and she looked forward to speaking with her at some point, excited to hear that their queen had learned a great deal of their language.

That Thranduil had actually told her, to take her time, and that she would not get lost...this was a special occasion indeed. Having never tried to stay to the western edge of the woods before, she figured that today was the day, and found herself rewarded with the sight of trees that were much grander in every manner. Taller, more robust. _Were they older?_ She'd no idea. Most of these were beeches, and she so very much wished she could find one to climb but so many of them were just immense, with the lowest scaffolds being far above her reach. So she ran on, so happy she thought her heart might burst. Their trunks were smooth and white, and she ran her hands along them, dropping now and then into a walk just so she could enjoy the sight and feel of them better. The beech-nuts were forming, and now she doubly wanted to find some she could climb; they'd been a favorite when she was a little girl at gran's farm. Jogging on, and definitely losing track of time, she found her goal at last; a hoary old thing that for whatever reason had grown more outward than upward. Zipping up into it, she sat for some moments on a big fat limb not very high off the ground, before climbing higher. Nothing was given a second thought; these limbs were large and sturdy.

Thanadir was being given the run of his life. He was trying to recall when since the Battle of Dagorlad he had run this far, this fast, all in one short span of time. And with every footfall his view of his own idiocy seemed to grow, and expand. He did not blame Thranduil for his anger. Though it could hardly be said to have happened often, happen it did. Over and over, once every so many centuries, until with their fading away their lives had ground to a halt and any interactions or routines of ordinary life had vanished away, and along with it the capacity for his arrogance to rear its ugly head. Until now. And because he could not rid himself of this foolish and pointless pride, he had torn the feelings of beautiful and gentle Earlene, deeply angered his King, and shown himself unfit for his duties. Whatever his punishment would be this time, it was hard to imagine that he would find it any worse than living with his own disappointment and disgust with himself. He was only thankful that Earlene was running with no thought to hiding her path; her trail through the lush undergrowth was completely obvious to him. In the distance, an ominously loud _crack!_ greeted his ears, and he redoubled his efforts.

Earlene had continued out on the heavy limb, intent on the large cluster of developing seeds at the other end. She loved these, even when they were not ripe. They reminded her of nutty jelly beans, and she would waste hours nibbling at them if given the chance. And she was being careful. This was a good twenty-five feet off the ground, and she was not about to fall. Holding the branch above her, she bounced on the limb with all her weight, checking it for soundness; reassuringly it did not move an inch. Nothing could be more solid. Which is why when she walked confidently twelve more feet out on the giant limb, the explosive _crack!_ behind her caused her to freeze. It was not only the sound, there was a lurch. Something was wrong with this branch and she did not know what to do. She swallowed, and tried to assess her circumstances. This was too high for her to fall without serious consequences, even though the forest floor was not asphalt. The branch underneath her could break if she moved. Or not. The branch above her was just out of reach, unless she jumped. Which might also break the branch underneath her. And while she was strong, she had never been able to do things like pull-ups; her ability to hoist herself up onto said branch was nil, which would leave her dangling in space with no way to get down….shit.

 _Meluieg, do not move,_ she heard.

 _I can do that, but I cannot even tell you where I am except that it is a long way from everywhere._

She heard another small crack.

 _You must jump for the branch above you, Earlene. Do it. Now._

Pushing off without hesitation, she looped her arms over it, but it was just as huge and fat as the one she'd been on; she did not have a good grip, and...this was bad. The reality was, she wouldn't last a minute like this.

 _I am sorry, Thranduil. This is very bad luck; I will fall. Is there any way I can fall that might save the children?_

 _Do not let go, Earlene, help is not far away._ Leaning helplessly against the stone wall of the passageway, all he could do is thank the Valar for the stubborn insistence of his seneschal. How was it possible, that she found the one rotten limb in what was probably the whole of his forest? _Save them, please_ , he silently begged Thanadir, while at the same time he encouraged his wife to hold on, even as he could feel her arms failing in strength.

She was trying so hard, not to let go and not to give way to the sense of being terrified that wanted to creep up, as she focused on the burning of her arms as her hold began to fail. Without warning, she felt an arm held in an iron grip. "Let go, Earlene. I have you."

In the next moment she was lifted up and carried down out of the tree with dizzying speed.

"Thank you," she whispered, holding tightly to him as the fear she would not let herself give way to before seeped through her. "If you hadn't followed me I-he said you _weren't_ following me...why _did_ you follow me?" It could not be helped that she was now involuntarily shaking. She could have lost their children, been injured, or killed, or all three at once, even though she was not sure that made sense.

He sat with her on the ground, his arms wrapped around her as silent tears of relief ran down his cheeks. "I followed you because I could not live with myself if anything happened to you. I cannot love you in the same way as our King but I do love you, Earlene. Yours is a beautiful spirit and your heart is bigger than mine. I have much to learn."

 _CRACK!_ The limb on which she had stood now snapped and crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. They both stood now to look at it. "I tried so hard to be careful, Thanadir. I did everything I could think of. I even tested the branch. But not well enough…" she looked down. "I have no way to thank you, once again, for saving me. And our children. And my husband's happiness. I am so grateful to you...I hope you understand that I would not have held what happened today against you even before this. And now…" she took his hand, and kissed it.

"Then maybe I have redeemed myself, a little bit," he said, still looking deeply unhappy. "My King is very angry with me, Earlene, and it is no less than I deserve."

 _Not any longer,_ they both heard. _Please, come home to me._

The barest traces of a smile came over Thanadir's face, as they walked to the Halls. A short distance outside, they were met by Thranduil, who embraced Earlene tightly, before asking her to continue on alone. When she had departed, Thranduil stood and stared at him, and Thanadir knelt. "I give you my word, I will do my utmost to overcome my faults. It will not be as it was in the past. Please forgive me, my King."

Thranduil pulled him to his feet. "I forgive you and more, Thanadir. I am not perfect either." He paused. "Do you know why this shortcoming of yours has galled me so much, over the years, Thanadir? All of us have flaws."

Thanadir met his eyes and shook his head. "No, my King. I only know that this is not the first time I have grieved and disappointed you in this way."

"It is because you are far too good of an elf to have such as this dwell within you. You are far too kind. Far too compassionate. Far too caring. It does not belong in you, Thanadir. It is a blight on an otherwise perfect beauty. I will trust to your words, and if there is anything by which I can help you succeed, I hope that you would tell me. You are far more to me than a subject or a servant, meldir." He embraced and kissed him on the forehead, leaving him standing in the woods, while he hurried to reach his wife and hold her close. His sense of relief against what could have been a tragic disaster was palpable.

Thanadir took a different path, one that accessed the forges. Once inside, he sat down amidst his neatly ordered racks of hammers and tongs, and cried bitterly.


	42. Chapter 42

Thanadir reappeared at dinner time, laying the table for the five of them without comment, as usual. Earlene rose and gave him a half-hug, which he returned with a smile, touching his forehead to hers in an extra gesture of affection. Realizing that it would make the most sense and seem the least peculiar, Ratiri and Lorna were told of Earlene's near-mishap, and Thanadir was given a great deal of credit. All the rest, of course, would remain forever private between the three of them. A hearty soup, bread and vegetables that seemed to go well no matter what time of year proved delicious. The soups were milk-based often, now, and the newly churned butter that appeared with the bread made for a small but wonderful addition to the meals.

"I did not wish to believe how advantageous a dairy animal would be, meluieg, but I am now thankful you were so passionate about one. It has not proven burdensome for Rîniel, and everyone is enjoying their food a great deal more.

Smiling happily, Earlene declined to mention to him that at some point the cow would need to be dried off before she was impregnated again, but, he would find out. Soon Thanadir was clearing away the meal.

"Hîr vuin, would you be able to return here, once the items are removed? There is something I would like all of us to be able to talk about together."

Thanadir murmured a polite agreement and left with the tray. There was now a carafe in the room at all times, with drinking glasses, and Earlene poured herself some water. The seneschal returned very quickly, and soon they were all seated comfortably in the large chairs and sofas in the King's bedroom. No one seemed to find it odd that Lorna and Earlene wanted mostly to be on the sofa by the fire. Earlene was surprised, but did not complain, when Thanadir seated himself on a small stool that allowed him to rub her feet. She had run for a very long time today, and his hands felt extremely wonderful.

 _Thranduil, please tell him that he does not have to do this for me out of guilt. He has done more than enough in my eyes._

 _Meluieg, this is one time when I must refuse to pass that along. Let it be. Please, trust me._

With the barest nod of her head, she began. "I wanted all of us to have a real conversation about housing. I know I've brought it up more than once but before Orla is actually able to come here, I want to hear what everyone thinks. This isn't just whether we should wire the house for wifi or whether Ratiri and Lorna want three rooms all to their own or four. It's also...how will these children be educated? How much exposure to the outside world will they have, including technology? Will our biological children be treated differently than Allanah? What about when children from the village wish to come and play? What will this home be like, as in, I can hardly envision some ugly modern building being constructed. I would like it to feel like a place heavily influenced by elves. Things like this," Earlene explained.

"Meluieg, that is rather a lot of things," Thranduil teased. "But in seriousness, I can see the wisdom of it. I can see in your mind that there are...schools, to which children can be sent, but that they can also be educated at home?"

"Jesus, that _is_ a lot'v things," Lorna said. "Well, your biological children will only be treated differently in the outside world if people know what they are. In the village, they're getting used to the idea'v the elves as people, so I doubt there'd be too much." Christ, she hoped not; talk about a way to breed resentment. Allanah was in an unenviable position, and they'd have to do their best to make it easy for her once all the children got older.

"I would recommend full exposure," Ratiri said, "because if you don't, and they hear about it from Lorna's and my children, curiosity might drive them to do things none of us would want. Better they learn in a controlled environment than sneak out into a world they're unprepared for."

"As for the house, we could knock up drawings," Lorna added. "I mean, _I_ can't draw, but I'm sure these two can," she nodded to the elves. "As for schools...keep them here. There's too much risk they'd draw attention out there, and I'm sure none'v you want to deal with things like parent-teacher conferences. I'm pretty sure those are a thing that happens."

"They are," Ratiri said dryly. "My sport teacher was forever complaining to mine that I wandered off and read a book every time we played lacrosse."

Lorna eyed him. "You'd probably murder someone with a lacrosse stick if you used it wrong."

"Exactly."

Earlene ignored this and pressed on. "Like every parent, I want my children to be able to function in the world, while knowing full well that I don't think an awful lot good about it. Especially Alanah; she deserves the chance to be an ordinary human woman, if such a thing is even possible with the life she's going to have. I feel sometimes like, I did 'my thing' out there, and now I'm happily retreating to living as I do. But I'll not keep her chained to the same set of expectations. If she wants to go to college and then to the Peace Corps in Tobago, that's got to be her decision. I see now that I'll face the same hell as everyone else, wanting to keep them safe and wanting them to live their lives," Earlene mused. "I too was hoping you can draw, Thanadir, at all? I am not skilled. But maybe we do not need that just yet. I'm assuming that a room for each of your children and one for yourselves is a foregone conclusion? I'd thought of the idea of a house with wings; a way we could be under one roof but still have our own private spaces. Maybe it would share a very large kitchen and eating area. I like the idea of designing it not just for babies now but for the duration. Big enough to account for yet more children, in case that happens. And there has to be a place to play, and learn. And the more I talk the more overwhelming this sounds."

Lorna pondered this. "With Allanah, she can come out to Baile sometimes, if you'd let her," she said. "Nobody there'd know her family was anything different, so she'd be treated like a normal little girl, and she could see what life is like in a town that doesn't know elves exist, but is still safer than Dublin. The worst things that'v happened in Baile in the last, oh, thirty years, have all been my fault. Nothing to hurt her there."

"And she'll already know ours, so she won't be going in as a child on her own," Ratiri added. "Wings sound good, or even separate buildings with a dog-trot between. It does sound a bit overwhelming," he said, shaking his head, "but we have time before the babies arrive. You have even more time than Lorna, potentially."

"What'll be important is getting started on this so the frame can get up before winter hits," Lorna said, stretching her feet toward the fire for a moment, relishing the warmth. "External construction during an Irish winter just doesn't happen, but if Orla can get the bones up, the inside can go at a slower pace." If she was occupied here, Lorna really hoped she could recommend a secondary service to fix her cottage up. While it didn't have to get done right off, if she didn't do it soon, it wouldn't happen.

"I was thinking along the same lines, and here it's already July," Earlene said. Though, we've one advantage, I think. I don't know if it's feasible but I'd guess elves know how to build many things; the question is if they've the time."

"There are many who could help," said Thanadir. "And if the King would allow it, it would be possible to build a home in the trees."

"What do you mean, Thanadir?" the King asked, baffled. The seneschal of all people knew that there would be no cutting of trees, anywhere in their borders.

"Like _galadhremmin_ , only different, my King," he answered. "Do you recall, in the Second Age, how the Silvan elves would build homes using living trees as the support timbers? They adjusted as the trees grew, and those were pleasant and beautiful dwellings."

In truth, he had forgotten about those...and it was an interesting idea. _But with human builders involved?_ "Indeed, those were lovely. But it would take some doing, to find just the right place. And if I am remembering correctly, there were elves that built homes in the trees themselves, a little like the Galadhrim?"

Thanadir nodded his head.

Lorna had always wanted a treehouse as a kid, but been stymied by the fact that there were no trees. Thought of her children having the most epic treehouse in the world to play in, built by elves...yes.

"How would you heat them?" Ratiri asked, fascinated. "Could they withstand the weight of stone fireplaces?" For that matter, how did they heat _this_ place, given they seemed to be adamant about leaving the forest alone? Where did they get the wood?

"Of course you'd think'v the practical shite," Lorna said, giving him an affectionate poke. "I wouldn't have the elves work on the actual house, though. It's got to meet code, which means no work done by anyone who isn't licensed and bonded - which means Orla."

She eyed Thranduil speculatively. "Have you got any control over the weather in here?" she asked. "Because if you can keep it dry, Orla's crew can work longer into the autumn."

"I cannot, Lorna. That is outside of my gifts. And yet if Orla's crew can be persuaded to allow my people to do some of the tasks...much will depend on design. We can build in ways that are functional and durable, but it may not represent the solutions humans would choose.

Earlene pondered. "I read about earthen homes once. They look completely charming and I think if they are done right they can be made legal. What if we looked into that? Thanadir is smart, maybe if we looked at a ton of pictures and talked about what is available by way of materials, some ideas could be had?"

The quiet seneschal wondered if Earlene was trying to be extra nice to him, or cause him to feel better about himself. He sighed, and concentrated on her feet.

"The trouble isn't whether or not Orla's crew would allow you, but whether or not the building inspectors would," Lorna said. "You've got no idea how crazy regulated everything is out in the world. Everything has to be signed and sealed and inspected, and doubly so because you've adopted Allanah. Though I suppose you could just mind-whammy the inspection agents."

"You say that with a little too much relish," Ratiri said. "I'm rather glad you don't have telepathy."

"Oh, hush, you," she said, but she couldn't help a grin. "So long as you can pass basic inspections, I think that's all that matters, but I'd have to ask Orla for more details." As inconvenient as it was that Thranduil couldn't muck about with the weather, it was almost a relief to know there was in fact _something_ he couldn't do. She felt guilty for thinking it, but she couldn't help it.

"Well, there is another way of approaching this," Earlene said slowly. "My cottage is my cottage. All nice and tiny and legal. All I have to do is make the spare room into what looks like a nursery. As long as it's safe and clean, ta-daaah. There is no law that says it's a crime to have a very small home, and if Thranduil and Allanah and I live there, it's hardly their damn business. And then we get Orla's help to make sure that whatever else we build is simply...safe. So nothing'll catch fire or cave in. And we build _that_ home exactly as we damn well please, and if the government goons come asking, the elves make sure they go back whence they came. Five of the ten acres I allegedly own are in the woods. If we build what we all actually want, hidden out of sight, who's ever to know the difference, especially when the elves guard the woods?" Her vision was distracted by the sight of Thranduil rising in a great hurry.

Lorna burst out laughing. "Good point," she said - and then went horribly green.

"Deep breath," Ratiri said, literally picking her up and not-quite-tossing her at Thranduil. "Help, please."

Thranduil was there in a second, easing her nausea. "Before another minute goes by...Thanadir, excuse me, but the stores of the cordials that the ellith would use to control their pregnancy sickness? Lorna needs them, rather badly."

Nodding, he disappeared without a word. Earlene's heart bled for the poor elf. She knew Thanadir well enough by now to see the depth of his pain. When the others had gone, later, she hoped that she could speak more with him.

"Cor, thank you," Lorna said, sighing with relief. That could get old in a hurry, if left unchecked. Though seriously, what the fuck was up with Thanadir? She was probably never going to be told, but that didn't meant she wouldn't wonder. "Mam had it pretty bad for a while when she was pregnant with my younger brother, but it went away after a bit, so I probably won't have to take a cordial against it for the next eight months."

Ratiri rubbed her back, helping her sit back down. "It's a good thing there's one available," he said dryly, "otherwise your sister would work this out the next time you saw her and sicked up over a pint of Guinness."

Thranduil rolled his eyes, refusing to consider that particular bit of imagery. "What you will be given is meant to be dropped into tea. Or water. But the catch is, it must be in your system before you feel ill. For ellith, it worked to use it once every eight hours. I would begin with two drops in tea, every eight hours. I do not recommend putting the drops directly into your mouth or you may cause the problem you seek to avoid," he warned.

Thanadir returned, with a tray of small ceramic vials, and poured a glass of water, placing these things in front of his King before rejoining Earlene.

Thranduil demonstrated that there was a delicate ceramic rod on the end of each stopper, that could be used to easily control the two drops going into the glass of water. "Drink it slowly. The taste is neither pleasant nor awful, but either way, your stomach is feeling unsettled."

Lorna sipped, testing. It was rather like the tea Gran had favored, herbal and nothing more, but it set to work almost immediately. "You," she said, "are a bloody godsend. I really don't need to be announcing this by sicking up all over someone at the pub, so this is perfect."

"What's in it?" Ratiri asked.

A pained expression came over the face of both elves. "It is four things. A root, a seed, and two different leaves. They are placed into wine and allowed to stand for some time. I am sorry, it would take me quite some time and reading to try to find the words in English."

"I really need to learn your language," Ratiri sighed. He wanted to take a crack at that library, but he couldn't do it yet.

"It's all on the Internet," Earlene teased. "It's a good place to start. I've sent Lorna all the files. You just need to get in there and have a small challenge. Like, come back having learned to say 'My name is Ratiri,' or 'well met.' Start small."

"If this one will leave me off Irish lessons," he said, giving Lorna a pointed look. She stuck her tongue out briefly, but went back to sipping her cordial. "It's a ridiculous language."

"Sindarin is a language where the word for 'feet' is 'tail'," she pointed out blandly. "I need to actually use all those files too, though. I've been putting it off." She sighed. "Another fortnight or so and I'll need to drop this bomb on the village," she said, absently rubbing her abdomen. "This ought to get interesting."

"I think you're worrying too much about it. It's pregnancy. Last I checked it's been happening since the dawn of time. And it's _still_ none of anyone else's goddamn business, especially when you want and will love these children." Earlene realized she was getting _that way_ again, and forced herself to stop talking about this and enjoy the attention being given her feet. And ankles and legs, because he was doing that too, and it felt so very nice.

Lorna sighed again. "You've not lived in a tiny Irish village long enough," she said. "Anyone's business is everyone's. It'll die down, but Ratiri and I are probably only going to have real allies in Mairead and Big Jamie at first. I'm not looking forward to having to shout at people."

"You can't shout at people," Ratiri pointed out. "Blood pressure."

"I'm beginning to regret getting rid'v my nausea," she said. "Otherwise I'd sick up on you, Mister. You don't shout, but one'v us has to."

"That," he intoned, "is why you have Mairead. It will get out in the open, and then we can just come here for a few days, so no one can bother us."

Earlene desperately wanted to point out that far too much ado was being made about nothing, but forced herself to shut it. Just then, Allanah woke, and Earlene knew she had exactly twenty seconds before crying to be fed would commence. Which Thranduil apparently also knew, because he was already lifting her up and walking toward her. "Right on schedule, the famished little one," Earlene chuckled, undoing the ties on her tunic without warning. In seconds, she had one of her breasts available, and the moment Allanah was held against her, she latched on hungrily. Thranduil watched her for a moment, smiling. As he returned to his seat, Earlene remembered something. "Bridie pointed out to me that there is a way for you and Thanadir to feed Allanah, if you would like to. She says they've got a breast pump in there at the chemist's. Would either of you enjoy doing that?" she asked. "It sounds simple enough." Earlene did not even notice, at the moment, that Lorna was suddenly looking everywhere but at her.

"They're really not hard," Ratiri said, ruffling Lorna's hair. She poked him in the side again, contemplating the fire; she could give Earlene _some_ privacy, in the same way riders on the New York subways did. "And it can be good for bonding." He laughed. "There is actually a contraption for a father to wear that mimics breastfeeding more closely. I have never once seen a father voluntarily wear it."

Lorna looked up at him. "Wait, _really_?" she asked. "What's it look like?"

"It wraps around the back of the neck rather like a scarf," he said, "except that the ends look and, I'm told, feel like actual breasts. You fill it with warmed milk and let the baby do what babies do."

"That," she said, "sounds kind'v horrifying."

"Well, it can't be any weirder than doing this," Earlene joked. "Never thought I'd have so much in common with Buttercup. But it's what they need, so, it's what you do." She tilted her head to see that Thanadir looked up at her with a little glance of envy, and understood right away that he would very much enjoy a chance to feed the baby...though not necessarily with the device being discussed at this moment.

"A natural tit is never weirder than an unnatural one," Lorna said. "Yours has just been magicked. It's a good thing she'll be on solids by the time your twins arrive, though, or you'd probably be hating life. Not looking forward to it myself."

"You'll do fine," Ratiri assured her. "Probably."

She burst out laughing. "Ratiri, allanah, that all depends on whether or not I actually get tits. I don't think Gran ever did, and I wish she was still alive for me to ask how she managed it."

Ratiri, naturally, blushed. The two of them hadn't yet gone back to bed in _that_ sense, both to avoid any, er, strenuous activity, and because neither was quite ready yet. "It's entirely possible for small-breasted women to breastfeed," he said. "Size doesn't affect milk production."

Thranduil wisely said nothing, though he now realized that this was something of a desire of Lorna's. An eyebrow raised. Earlene's eyebrows also raised, for an entirely different reason. "Unfortunately it seems like milk production affects size. There can be too much of a good thing, sometimes. I feel like I'm trying to run with water balloons stuck on my chest. I'd be more than happy to share, but I guess it can't work that way." And once again, Thranduil again wisely said nothing, because as far as he was concerned, there could not be too much of _that_ good thing. As she thought more, Earlene now frowned. "Ratiri, that hardly seems to make sense. If I have two dairy cows, the one with the larger udder is going to give me more milk. Though, you're a doctor, and I know you wouldn't say it without a reason...but it just seems counterintuitive. Then again neither do I sit around milking myself with a graduated cylinder trying to see what is actually going on…" she trailed off, realizing how much she still did not know about it all.

Lorna laughed. "I'd fall over, at my height, or my spine would snap."

"It's not quite so simple, with humans," he said. "Much of the human breast is composed excess tissue -" he didn't say 'fat', because he knew how well _that_ tended to go over "-but the mammary gland itself is often the same size regardless of the rest of it. In theory, Earlene, you could nurse them, but I wouldn't advise it. Wet-nursing was always a gamble, especially when the woman and child weren't related in any way. You and Lorna grew up in very different parts of the world, and likely don't share all of the same antibodies - and these children will only be three-eighths European, which would complicate it yet further."

He twined his fingers in Lorna's hair, almost absently. "Now, what _could_ be an issue, were we on our own, would be a potential inability to produce enough milk for two infants. Many women have difficulty there, which historically contributed to the higher infant mortality rate of multiple-birth children. And if you think formula is bad nowadays, in the Victorian era, many brands were nothing but flour and water. Add in the mistaken belief that cow's milk could sustain an infant and it's a wonder any baby survived into childhood."

"Well that's morbid," Lorna said.

"The Victorians were so staggeringly ignorant that I don't know how their society didn't collapse," he said dryly. "They had arsenic in their wallpaper, for Christ's sake. They put _borax_ in spoiled milk to make it taste better."

"Lysol originated as a douching solution," Lorna said. "Can you even imagine? Ugh." Her lady bits cried out in silent horror at the mere thought. She rubbed her hand over her abdomen, and sighed. "Would you lot mind coming to Baile, when I let everyone in on this? I feel like I need all the backup I can get."

"I do not believe you could keep Earlene away, Lorna. I sense that she is, how do you say it? 'Spoiling for a fight.' And part of me cannot wait, out of morbid fascination," he grinned.

"I am not," Earlene hissed. And absolutely no one believed her, having already seen shades of the coming wrath, but they were too polite to say otherwise. Allanah grew bored with the first breast, and the other was freed so quickly and in such a huff that even the baby looked surprised. Thranduil decided that perhaps he should retreat from this line of discussion.

"Of course, mleuieg. I am sorry," he said in tones that were a little too convincing. She wanted to glare at him, but just then Thanadir found that spot behind her shoulder blade...with a sigh, she dropped it.

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek, but didn't remark. Instead she said, "I appreciate it. I love that lot, I do, but some'v them can be overprotective and just nosy. Not enough goes on there, and they haven't got anything like elves to fill pub talk."

"Well, they'll have us being related. Hardly as exciting as pregnancy, but maybe a minor distraction of sorts? One can hope," Earlene said.

"Oh, that'll be plenty exciting," Lorna laughed. "Finding out I'm related to my boss? That doesn't happen every day. I can guarantee you we'll be presented with a full family tree within a week, because that's just how the Irish do it. Then we'll both drown in baby clothes and other things."

"I would really enjoy knowing more," Earlene quipped. "All those adverts for the ancestry websites and such... it looked so interesting, but it was another thing for which I never had time. If someone else has more motivation, far be it from me to get in the way."

Lorna yawned. "Christ, sorry," she said. "I'm just about done in, though I've done fuck-all today. Pregnancy's more tiring than it ought to be, given how early on I am."

"Why don't you go get some rest? There's no need to apologize. If you want anything, you know where we are _and_ the way to the kitchens," she chuckled.

Lorna laughed. "True," she said, hauling herself to her feet. Ratiri helped her the last of the way, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "'Night, you lot. Goodnight, Allanah."

Ratiri echoed her goodnight's, and the pair of them meandered out. That both wandered to Lorna's room was not, for them, unusual; he'd spent several night at her cottage, though they did nothing more than sleep just yet.

Earlene returned Allanah to Thranduil, who loved to hold and play with her quietly when she was done nursing. "She likes us, Earlene, in her own little way," he said, as he watched her blue eyes.

"What is it like, in her mind?" Earlene asked, absentmindedly rubbing her sore neck and shoulders as she replaced the garment over her breasts and buttoned her tunic. It was her own fault; she tended to want to watch her feed, even though there was really nothing to see. But the sight of the little mouth working away at her breast was still new and novel, and so all the time bending its head forward took its toll. Without a word, Thanadir moved to sit next to her, turning her so that he could knead at her neck and shoulders. She shot him a look of open gratitude, for his current spoiling of her. And she wanted to talk with him, too, but first she had to await the answer to her question.

"She observes, and she has simple feelings. Most of her mind is taken up with her physical wants; when she is fed, comforted, loved, those cause her happiness. Being hungry, or soiled, that is the opposite. But she already recognizes the three of us, and experiences positive emotions when she sees us. And she knows her name; that too."

 _How I envy you, sometimes, for your insight. But that you shared yourself with me once, just so that I can understand a little…_ her eyes met his across the room, shining with happiness. He quickly changed her nappy; this was another semi-miraculous gift in her eyes. He _knew_ when she was soiled, and he did not have to send his fingers on unsanitary explorations. Allanah was already falling asleep as he laid her down, clenching one of her tiny fists onto her stegosaurus toy.

 _Meluieg?_ she heard. _What is wrong?_

 _It is Thanadir. Can you not see how much pain he is in?_

 _Yes, but he is best left alone._

 _No. He is not. I have trusted you in everything about him since the day I first met your seneschal. So I am asking you if you would please come here, and trust me._

 _To do what?_

 _To do what you would do for me, if I were hurting that much. We are family, Thranduil. He needs affection, and reassurance. And I will hazard that it would mean a great deal, not coming from me alone._ _Would you follow my lead?_

She could hear the sigh in his thoughts, but he relented. _Very well._

Very suddenly, she turned toward Thanadir, catching him by surprise when she took both of his hands in hers. "Would you like to speak more about today, mellonenin? (my friend)" Her words were softly spoken and as kind as she could make them.

"There is little else I can say, Earlene. I feel...so ashamed." His expressive brown eyes dropped down to look at nothing.

"There is something I can say. You asked me to help you, and I thought of something, but I need to make sure I understand. You told me that you have a habit of seeing others as better or worse than you, is that right?"

He nodded.

Earlene wrapped her arms around him, pulling him toward her. "What would happen, meldir, if you simply stopped comparing? If every time such a thought came into your head, you told yourself that it did not matter, moved along with whatever you were doing, and only worried about Thanadir? I can see that you are hurting, and I want you to feel better. This serves no purpose for you."

"Yes it does," he blurted out. "I know what you are trying to do, but I do not deserve to feel happy."

She tightened her grip on his hands. "And you have done this to yourself every time you have failed this way in the past, have you not?"

He looked up at her, some ire written in his eyes. "Yes," he said, with a slight edge of hostility to his tone.

"So what I am hearing is, that you have done the same thing over and over and yet believe that somehow, this time, your results will be better? By repeating the same actions that have led to an eventual failure? How well has that worked for you?" she asked, tilting her head and meeting the fire in his eyes with her own challenge.

Thranduil's eyes widened. He would not have believed Earlene capable of this. Though why that should be the case when he knew better, he could not say. Except that, this was Earlene and _Thanadir._

The seneschal tried halfheartedly to break her hold and rise, at which point she sat on him, pinning him awkwardly to the sofa. "You will go nowhere, until you talk to me. Unless you are planning on hurting me to do it, because that is the only means by which you are leaving."

"You have no right…" he hissed. The elf's anger glinted in his brown eyes.

"No right to _what_?" she half-shouted in his face. "No right to care about you? No right to love you? No right to tell you that you claim to want to change, but try to run off so that you can cling to beliefs that even stupid humans know cannot hope to give any success? You are my King's seneschal and my dear friend, and that gives me _every_ right." Her eyes blazed into his from inches away, begging him to try and argue.

His lips parted as the anger ebbed from him. Nobody, _nobody_ had ever spoken to him like this. Not even his King. A frail firieth, and yet she dared to challenge him in this way... because she cared for him. He knew she was right, and did not want to admit it, and he felt his carefully crafted shell breaking. Tears spilled from his eyes, and Earlene held him tightly, rubbing his back with her hand.

"I cannot help you if you will not let me, Thanadir. I want you to forgive yourself, and then I want you to tell me where this came from. I want to know when it started, if you have to go back to when you hunted dinosaur eggs."

He cried, and Earlene silently beckoned for Thranduil to come too. _Hold him. And if that is too complicated, hold both of us._

And as she had hoped, he began speaking to both of them. "I was young, and we were very poor, my family and I. We were often hungry. But I came to understand that I was...smart. That I could learn easily. And that the skills I learned could make me useful, which is how I came to the attention of Oropher, and gained a place in his service. You cannot imagine what that was like, to finally have nice clothes and enough food. It was when I learned that being like...I was...brought me good things. Others who could not do as I did, they could not change their lot in life. I believed that I was better, because others told me I was. And I was afraid. Afraid that if someone better than I came along, that I would lose what I had gained. I cannot explain exactly, and maybe you would not understand. Long years went by and...it became how I am. I had to always be better. I am sorry, my King. I never wanted anything about me to cause you unhappiness."

Thranduil was speechless. _Had not Earlene insisted…_ "Thanadir, my faithful one, why did you never tell me of this?"

"It was my duty to serve you, my King. Not to add to your burdens."

The King's eyes widened, as for the first time he gained a possible understanding of something from long ago. "Is this why...when Erestor came to live with us, everything ended so badly?"

The seneschal's head nodded, even as his body shook with sobs from the memory of long-buried grief.

Thranduil half wished to cry himself, even as he understood why, until now, this had never come to light. "Do you understand that Earlene is right, in the things she said to you? You are our family. I cannot bear to know that you live with such feelings. I want you to be happy, to feel joy. Can you try to do as she asks, and stop making comparisons? Our lives are not a contest. And even if they were, there is only one Thanadir."

His arms moved for the first time, or tried to. "Please let me embrace you in return," he said to Earlene, a smile coming over his face, as she laughed and released him as his arms came around both of them. "And I never hunted dinosaur eggs. I am not _that_ old," he grumbled.

"Yes you are," they said in unison, as they each kissed a different one of his rosy cheeks in affection. Even he had to laugh.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For giving me what I did not realize I needed."

"There is much more where that came from," Earlene teased, finally scooting off of his lap. "Earlene rarely loses a case, Thanadir," she smirked.

"Valar save you, my friend," Thranduil said, rising. "They are your only hope," he chuckled.

"I do not mind," he said, looking at his King and queen, with joy returning to his face. His family. He was loved.

Lorna put off this discussion for a fortnight, but she knew that she had to break this to Mairead first, because if her sister found out about it at the pub, both she _and_ Ratiri would find themselves murdered in the face. And for this one, Ratiri needed to not be with her. He could come into it later, once Mairead had had some time to wrap her head around the idea.

Unfortunately, this wasn't Mairead's day off, so Lorna had to catch her right after work at three. Her sister was naturally suspicious about this, and vocally so.

"Cottage," Lorna said. "I'll explain it there. This needs a bit'v privacy."

Mairead peered down at her. "Are you okay, Fun Size?" she asked, concern lacing her tone.

"I'm fine," Lorna said, "but I've got a couple things to tell you, and one'v them we don't need an audience for, so just follow me, will you?" Thank God Thranduil had given her that cordial, or she'd be wanting to sick up right now. This morning she could barely keep anything down long enough to take it.

"Is something wrong?" her sister persisted, and Lorna rolled her eyes.

" _No_ ," she said. "Will you just come on?"

Sighing, Mairead did, though the concern didn't leave her blue eyes even when she got into her SUV. She followed the Charger through the village, out past the low border-wall and up to the cottage.

Lorna had had the windows open all day, so it smelled of summer - sweet grass and dry earth, as well as lavender. With Ratiri over all the time, she'd had to hang the dried bunches along the walls, so they wouldn't smack him in the head.

"Gran'd be proud," Mairead, said, taking it in. Lorna had had the whole family over for dinner not long after the renovations were completed, and Mairead, who'd grown up in the cottage, had nearly cried. Given how no-nonsense she was, it had freaked Lorna right out.

"I'd hope so," Lorna snorted. "Christ knows it took enough work, but it was worth it. As was the new bathroom." She bustled in the kitchen, putting the kettle on automatically before sitting at the kitchen table. "First bit'v news is that when Earlene and I were in New York, we went to Ellis Island and discovered her gran had had a brother who got sent back. He grew up in a Dublin children's home and grew up to be my great-grandda. Small world, but it's a small island."

Mairead's eyes widened. "Are you bloody _serious_? Does she know this?"

"Yes, and yes," Lorna laughed. "She's also wound up with her brother's baby girl - he got hit and killed in a motorway accident, and her mam died having her - so I gave her one'v Gran's old baby outfits. Family heirloom and all." That was the concise version, anyway; she wasn't about to tell the whole story to Mairead. "On top'v that, she's up the yard with twins - girls, both'v them, so it'll get plenty'v use." She paused, figuring it best to get this out of the way when her sister wouldn't have a mouthful of tea or anything. "I'm up the yard myself. Ratiri and I got a bit too drunk a little over a month ago, and things just sort'v...happened."

Somehow, Mairead managed to choke on absolutely nothing, turning a very odd shade of greenish-blue before paling. "You're - Lorna, what in _fuck_ were you thinking?" she demanded. "You're an adult and it's your life, but there's a little thing called _condoms_."

"Drunk," Lorna pointed out. "Christ, we were more than drunk, we were completely off our heads. He says it's way too early to tell if they're boys or girls, but they're definitely there. I don't regret it, or this."

Mairead rubbed her temples. "Jesus, Lorna. I don't suppose I've got to ask if he'll stand by you, given that the pair'v you seem joined at the bloody spleen lately."

Lorna's laugh was overridden by the scream of the kettle, and she hastened to get it off the burner. "He will," she said. "He's always wanted kids, too, but I need you to help me fend off all the codgers and eejits who'll be telling us to get married. Neither'v us is ready for that yet, and he says I don't need to be lamping everyone out while I've got one in the oven."

"He's right," Mairead snorted. "At your age, you'd best be watching your blood pressure."

"Ratiri already is," Lorna assured her, fixing up the teapot with some Oolong. "Keep in mind, he's a pediatrician. Couldn't ask for a better da there. He's got me on a load'v vitamins." She pointed the sugar tongs at the shelf above the stone, which did indeed have a long line of colorful plastic bottles arranged on it. "I'll tell you, though, not being able to drink is absolute shite. I thought it was bad my first go, but I must'v forgot _how_ bad. Thank bloody God I'd already quit smoking, or this'd be even worse."

"Oh, just wait," was Mairead's encouraging rejoinder. "Along about month six, you'll be wishing it was over. I always did."

"And yet you had four," Lorna said, fetching two cups from the cupboard. "At my age, I don't think I'll be doing this again."

Mairead took a cup from her, looking from it to the rest of the cottage. "Ratiri's always wanted kids, huh?" she asked. "Why hasn't he got any already?"

"Because his wife died. I thought everyone knew that," Lorna said, ferrying the teapot and various accoutrements from counter to table. "But it's worse than that. They found out she had cancer because she'd had a positive pregnancy test. She went in to have it confirmed and discovered it was actually a malignant uterine tumor, because apparently cancer can do that. She was dead inside'v six months."

"Bloody Christ," Mairead whispered.

"I'd thank you to keep that to yourself," Lorna warned. "If he'd wanted it to be common knowledge, it would be."

Mairead sighed, shaking her head. "I'll do what I can, Fun Size," she said. "Including lamp someone out, if I've got to." Looking at Lorna, she asked, "How in bloody hell does he walk in here without cracking his head on the rafters?"

Lorna burst out laughing. "They're just barely tall enough that he doesn't have to duck. Hopefully our kids'll get some'v that height, because being my size sucks. It's not actually fun, you know."

"As much as I don't want the answer to this, how the hell did he not break you in half?" Mairead asked.

That only set Lorna off all over again, so much so that she made Mairead pour the tea. "Creatively," she said. "His equipment matches his height."

Mairead grimaced. "Okay, _that_ I didn't need to know."

"You asked." Lorna dropped a single sugar into her tea, and sighed. Normally she liked three, but Ratiri was trying to keep her sucrose intake down a bit. "Anyway."

"Have you thought'v names yet?"

"Christ no. Well, we have, but we've not actually put any real possibilities out there. It'll have one Irish name and one Indian, but we haven't decided in which order yet. I'm leaning toward Bridie for a girl." Saoirse would always belong to the baby she'd lost, gone before she could live, but Gran had been a tough one, and this baby could do with a much worse namesake. "No bloody idea for a boy's name yet, but there's time."

"Well, there'll be talk, but I'll what I can. Is this this why you've been steadily moving his shite here for the last fortnight?" Mairead asked.

"Pretty much. We didn't want to move him in officially until we'd got this out'v the way. Earlene and her family're coming to the pub tonight, too, so we'll have backup."

"Why in Christ's name didn't you say so before now?" Mairead demanded. "I've got to bake something."

"Oh, drink your bloody tea," Lorna said. "Cookies don't take that long, and you've not been here in weeks. And just be glad _I_ don't make people take their shoes off at the front door."

"Meluieg, you will...try, not to get very upset with Lorna's friends, won't you? From everything I have seen in her thoughts, they do mean well."

"Thranduil, no they _don't!_ It's the entire point I've been trying to make Lorna and Ratiri understand. You are confusing the issues, just like they are. That they are good people who care about her is _one_ issue. That they are also bored people, and opinionated about things that are none of their concern whatsoever is a _second_ issue, and that the first circumstance exists does not excuse the inappropriateness of the other." She spoke with such vehemence that both ellyn simply stared at her. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Her next words were quieter. "Please forgive me, for speaking as I just did. I am struggling more and more to contain my emotions. There are times I feel like all of my usual inhibitions went on a vacation. In my heart I mean no disrespect, but what comes out of my mouth seems to run much faster,"she said with chagrin. "I am sorry."

Thranduil embraced her. "Meluieg, I know that this is what your pregnancy is doing to you. I do not hold your words against you, but that you would take some of the sting out of them is appreciated," he said with a smile and a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you for your forbearance. Both of you have already endured much. I wish I could promise that I could control my outbursts, but I will not be that foolish." Her self-deprecating humor was at least alive and well.

"It has not been all bad," said Thanadir with a smile. He had felt free of a very old burden since the last time she spoke in this manner, which had been greatly to his benefit.

"I suppose," she said, leaning into him affectionately while smoothing her hand over her visibly bulging belly.

"I hear Lorna's vehicle," Thranduil said, ushering them out the cottage door. "Come, my family, and we will hope that Baile survives us."

"Well, Mairead's forewarned," Lorna said, when she got out to open the van's side-door - it was sticking, for some reason, and needed a good dose of WD-40. "She took it pretty good, even if she did have to go and ask me how Ratiri didn't break me in half. She's promised to help against the gobshites, however many they may be."

"I do not believe the gobshites will prevail," Thranduil said drily. "Then again, did you not tell me in New York that I was King of the Gobshites? Perhaps it is time for me to assert the powers of my throne," he teased. He'd waited rather a long time to trot that one back out at her, truth be told, and this seemed like an excellent opportunity.

Lorna burst out laughing, so hard she nearly choked. "I," she said, "would pay to see that. I really, really would." She let him do whatever it was he needed to do help Earlene get Allanah settled, for once not resenting the fact that she'd have to drive like a granny. A baby in the car demanded it.

Thanadir's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but Earlene reached up with her hand, smiling at him and smoothing his brow with her hand. She rolled her eyes quickly, and he returned the gesture. He felt vaguely reassured, that though the dignity of the monarchy was being assaulted by its own King, he still had Earlene to share in his view of reasonable propriety. She chuckled against him, just as Allanah began to wail. Soon the backseat was a nursing station, with Earlene dozing off happily against the elf.

Lorna drove quite conscientiously, cognizant at all times of the baby on board - the baby that was fortunately having her tea now, rather than in front of God and everyone at the pub. Small-town Ireland just wasn't used to that sort of thing.

Ratiri was already waiting at the pub, with Mairead to keep him company and fend off anyone who got too curious as to why he and Lorna were so often away from town together. None of them had any malicious intent; they were just genuinely curious, because they liked the pair of them and wanted to know what was going on.

"It ought to be on the busy side tonight, so that'll mean it'll be all over the village by tomorrow afternoon," Lorna snorted, when they reached the turn-off. "Then our job's done and I can just get on with gestating. Christ am I glad I've got that cordial, though - I can tell how awful it'd be without it just by what I feel like when I get up in the morning."

"Try taking three drops, when you drink your last cup at bedtime," Thranduil advised. "You may find that it will help you more."

"I'll do that," she said. "Would've given the game away a fortnight ago, if not for that, and then I'd've had a nightmare on my hands. Me and Ratiri both."

The street outside the pub was busy, so much so that she had to drop everyone off outside before she found a place to park. The summer evening was absolutely lovely, so it was no wonder everyone was out and about.

"I've already told everyone about Allanah, so hopefully you won't get too many questions," she said. "They got the condensed version about your eejit brother and how you wound up with her, so you'll probably just get a load'v inquiries about how she's settled in, and sympathy that your brother was such a twat. Every family's got one somewhere in the tree."

Thranduil smiled benignly as he took Allanah from Earlene, who adjusted her clothing over her very full bosom one last time as she exited the car. The King smiled. He had thought her body attractive before, but now that those breasts were so beautifully rounded and firm...with a deep breath he forced his mind onto other matters; the last thing he needed to do was give Siobhan more to contemplate by entering the pub with bulging jeans.

"Are you ready, meldir?" Earlene said to Thanadir, knowing the seneschal would have to endure his usual share of longing stares from a given percentage of the townspeople.

He nodded, grinning. "There is always the food. It helps me overcome my trials," he said brightly. This garnered a belly laugh.

"You surprise me more and more...Cian. You show so much more humor, now. Was this always there?"

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a touch of shyness."You have helped me stop worrying about how others see me, so much. It is still hard sometimes, Earlene. But I am learning, and trying very hard. I like how I feel now."

"Then my heart is glad for you. Come, your sandwiches are waiting," she teased, following Thranduil and Lorna through the door.

A chorus of greetings headed their way, with as many for Earlene and the Elves as for Lorna. The pub was quite crowded, but even those who had never met the trio raised a mug, because that was just how it worked here.

"You're in luck," Big Jamie called. "I just got some fresh fish this afternoon." _Trust him to remember_ , Lorna thought. She caught sight of Mairead and Ratiri in a corner booth, each with a pint before them.

"I have a hungry brother-in-law to feed, Jamie. You know what to do." Earlene leaned in closer to whisper, "I'll have you know that this is the only place I've seen him look forward to coming, for food." It seemed superfluous to mention that this was the _only_ place they went for food; that was beside the point. Big Jamie's face took on a truly pleased glow as he barked her order at the cook.

"Is this little Allanah?" he asked, his eyes traveling to Fionn and the baby, who was looking around with wide blue eyes. "Lorna's told me how you came to have her. I'm bloody sorry your brother was a plonker, but I'm glad you're the one that's got this one." He eyed her abdomen. "Though she _didn't_ tell me you'd got another one in the oven. Lorna, why didn't you tell me Earlene had one in the oven?"

"That's her news, not mine," Lorna said. "I just told you lot about Allanah so she wouldn't be badgered with the same questions over and over. There's this and other news, but it's better told on a full stomach, so let's get everyone fed first."

Earlene smiled at him mischievously, taking her soda drink and another sweet concoction she dreamed up for Thanadir; with a little coaching Jamie was able to put together what seemed to be a passable tequila sunrise. She dipped her finger into the cocktail to check, and nodded to herself before returning to the table. Passing Siobhan on the way, she noted with extreme amusement that the woman's eyes were fixed on her breasts. _It's always nice to brighten someone's day,_ she smirked to herself. For just a moment, she wondered what if...only to feel deeply inside of herself that she could not even genuinely consider it, though some part of her very much wanted to. _Being bound to an elf is likely for the best,_ she mused. _I can see that hosts of problems are prevented by not being able to want to even consider such things._ With a sidewise smirk at the woman, she took her seat next to Thanadir.

Lorna ordered herself a basket of chips - she'd been craving them lately, in large quantities, but Ratiri tried to limit her intake. His already tiresome excuse was "blood pressure", but he knew what he was on about, so with many a sigh she had small portions.

Ratiri looked at Earlene and Thanadir. "Glad you could make it," he said. "If Mairead was our only line of defense, I think she'd scalp someone."

"Oi, I'm right here," Mairead said. "I wouldn't scalp anyone. Too messy." She too eyed Earlene's abdomen. "Lorna told me you were up the yard with twins, so I've got some baby things for you. She said you'd got clothes in plenty, but there's more than that. Teething rings, for a start - that little one'll be wanting them soon enough. You put them in the freezer so the baby can gum at them to numb the pain. I'm hoping this lot'v been spoiling you," she added, looking at Thanadir. "I'm sorry my daughter was such a shreel when you first came here. She hasn't got the sense God gave a clam."

"Do not worry," Thanadir said kindly. "I look much younger than I am. It is something I live with." He paused, before adding, "I do not think I have ever told you how much I enjoy your baking. Earlene is very good with food, but your cakes…" A perfect expression of ecstatic longing appeared on his face, briefly, the sincerity of which was beyond question. Just then Jamie called their order. "Excuse me," said the elf. "I am hungry." His arms were soon happily laden with baskets of fish and chips and sandwiches, as Earlene watched him from the table, covering her mouth lest she succumb to the cuteness.

Mairead eyed him in disbelief, though Ratiri, by now, was used to Thanadir's unusual appetite. "I'm glad you like them," she said. "It's always good to hear, especially because I've got some cookies to send with you. Lorna didn't give me enough time to bake a cake."

"I'm sure we'll live," Lorna said, making her way over with her chips.

"Easy on the catsup," Ratiri warned, as she sat beside him.

"You," she said, pointing a chip at him, "are no fun."

"Your blood pressure will thank me later," he said. "I'm serious about the pre-eclampsia, Lorna. You're very healthy, and I'd like to keep you that way."

"He'd have me eating rabbit-food if I'd let him," she sighed. "Be glad you're not married to a doctor, Earlene. All they do is badger." Earlene didn't need a doctor, and they both knew it; she had all the vitamins and things she could hope to need. "He's lucky he's so damn pretty."

Thranduil frowned, across the room. It was not his place, to interfere in another couple's private concerns, but at the same time, his diminutive friend was being denied a great many things by this well-intentioned overprotectiveness. _Ratiri, perhaps you could consider allowing Lorna the foods she wishes when I am here with her? I can understand your caution at other times, but I will not allow any harm to come to her when she is near me._

 _Thank you,_ Ratiri said, and meant it. He was fairly certain that one of these days, especially once the hormones kicked in, she might just murder him over all of this. "Oh, go on then," he said. "I suppose I do worry too much."

Lorna arched an eyebrow at him, but couldn't help a smile. "You think?" Thranduil had to have a hand in this, so she sent a silent _thank you_ his way.

"If I was you, I'd be careful," Mairead warned him. "There's some things you can't deny an Irish person for too long. She's given up Guinness, which is a sacrifice and a half in and of itself." Mairead hadn't gone through half so many odd rituals and restrictions on any of her pregnancies, but Lorna had said he did actually have something of a point. Still, it seemed overkill. "Earlene, I hope you're not getting baby-sat like this." Earlene's age was hard to guess, but given her former job, she had to be in her mid-thirties. One didn't make it as a high-powered solicitor while still in their twenties.

She grinned at Mairead, who was seated opposite her. "Not in the same way. But Fionn and Cian help me more than you could imagine. Without the both of them this would be so, so much harder, and I don't want to even think about the idea of three babies all on my own. I've already a great deal of respect for those who had to manage alone." She shook her head, because the truth was she was spoiled and doted upon, and not a bit of this was happening for her as it did for most women. And she knew it. Thranduil broke away at last, and dragged a chair over so that he could sit next to Earlene. Mairead stood at once and reached out for Allanah, who was handed over to her next admirer.

Lorna had never seen Mairead outright _melt_ before, but little Allanah managed it. "She'll be such a ginger," she said, tickling the baby under her chin. "And look at those eyes… I've not seen such a sky blue since my Mam."

"She looks like you, Mairead. And I think she will look just as beautiful when she grows up." Earlene meant that very sincerely; she thought Mairead was, for all her rough edges, a stunningly attractive woman.

To Lorna's surprise, Mairead actually _blushed_. That was something she'd only seen a handful of times in the past eleven years. "It's kind'v you to say," she said, more than a touch awkwardly. "She'll be such a lovely one. She's not got your coloring, but I can see her features in you already. She might not be yours by birth, but she'll look like she could be." The baby reached out and snagged one of Mairead's red curls, immediately trying to put it in her mouth, and Mairead gently disentangled it from her tiny fingers. "Don't you be scowling at me, little one," she said gently. "There's plent'v things you actually can stick in your mouth."

"And soon enough I'll have two'v those, with no practice," Lorna said. "There'll be five between the pair'v us, God help us all."

"We'll be fine," Earlene chuckled serenely. "We have much more than many people, and what's most important is that all these children will know they are loved. No gobshites, isn't that right, Allanah?" she cooed at the little girl, who squealed happily at the tickle to her chin.

"Don't let them around Lorna too much when they're learning to speak," Mairead teased, "or you'll not be able to understand them."

"Oh, hush, you," Lorna said, pointing a chip at her. "I wasn't _that_ bad. You understood me."

"Mostly," Mairead grinned. "I pretended to a lot more than I let on at times." She sobered a touch. "You might want to make this announcement now, before everyone gets too plastered to actually retain it tomorrow."

"I suppose you're right," Lorna sighed. Hopping up onto her chair, she tinked a fork against her glass. "All right, you lot, two things: my boss is my second cousin and I've got one in the oven. Discuss."

Mairead covered her face with her hand, and Ratiri unsuccessfully tried to choke down laughter. "That'll just about do it," he said, shaking his head.

Stunned silence echoed all around, and Earlene decided to take full advantage of it, kicking back her chair and standing on it. "I've a bit more to add to that. I wanted to tell the story of how we found out that Lorna and I are distantly related. And before I can do, I'll make my own announcement, because to anyone not three-quarters ossified, it is obvious that we are expecting. Twin girls," she said while she stretched her tunic over her belly to make the picture be worth a thousand words, as the room full of faces looked first confused, and then generally pleased. Earlene launched into what was now her well-polished tale, including a little more emphasis on the shock of finding out that America had rejected certain immigrants for the sorriest of reasons. For a final flourish, she ended on the happy note that their children would be third cousins once removed, thereby reuniting part of the Donovan family more than a hundred years after it was divided.

When Earlene finished, no one could hear a pin drop. But then most surprisingly of all, a tiny, wizened old woman made her way through the crowd, drawing Lorna down off her chair.

Oh, brilliant. Old Orla. Lorna braced herself for a lecture, and was entirely shocked when instead she got, "Congratulations, allanah. I'm happy for you."

Lorna was so stunned she couldn't actually reply right off. She eventually managed a stuttered, "Thank you", wondering if Orla had been replaced by a Pod Person. That was the _last_ thing she'd expected.

She glanced at Mairead, who looked equally gobsmacked. Orla was one of those they'd both expected to provide the worst reactions, and yet she meandered off without nary a nasty word.

Big Jamie, every bit as shocked, instead gave Lorna a careful hug, for once not squeezing the breath out of her. "You tell me if you need anything, you hear me? And Christ, what're the odds'v you two being so closely related?" he added, looking from her to Earlene.

"I'd wondered the same thing myself," Lorna said. "I'm so shite at maths I didn't want to try calculating it."

Earlene smiled, completely pleased at how this was progressing. Though, out of the corner or her eye, she noticed that her husband had a faraway look, and a faint smile on his face. An eyebrow raised, and she had a private moment of suspicion that she kept buried deep inside of her thoughts. Aloud, she said, "It really is amazing, what a small world it is. And what the Irish endured," she noted, even as she realized that was not a subject she wished to think on just now.

"God, there's a subject for a nasty winter's night," he said, shaking his head - though he soon looked as gobsmacked as Lorna when another of the codgers came over and gave her a hug, offering congratulations and nothing more. Poor Lorna looked so intensely uncomfortable that all these people were _touching_ her that he had to intervene.

"She's up the yard, you lot," he said. "Quit getting your bloody germs on her."

Naturally, the next old lady blatantly ignored him and hugged her anyway.

"Did you or did you not hear the man?" Mairead demanded. "Get your wrinkly paws off her or it's me you'll be dealing with."

The woman looked at her, scandalized - but, given Mairead was the one who washed and set all their hair every week, said nothing before scurrying off.

Doc Barry was the next to approach her - she'd been another Lorna had worried over, as had Ratiri, but all she said was, "You get in for your check-ups, you hear me? I know my cousin must be looking after you, but he doesn't have an ultrasound machine."

Ratiri stared at her. That was it? No 'When are you getting married?' She didn't look anywhere near drunk enough to forebear her disapproval.

"I will," Lorna promised. If nothing else, she'd like to have an ultrasound to stick in her scrapbook.

"I was wondering when you'd get on with things," Nuala said. She was the surgery's sole nurse, and looked from Lorna to Ratiri. "Siobhan owes me a tenner. She thought it'd take you a year."

"Shut it," Siobhan called. "I'm baking you some chocolate buns, and if Ratiri says a word about diabetes, I'll thump him."

Lorna just about choked, and had to pinch her hand, hard, to avoid bursting out laughing. Chocolate buns and chocolate syrup had been forever tainted for her. "I'd take a cherry pie instead," she said, eying Ratiri. "It's got fruit in it. He can't complain."

Ratiri rolled his eyes, but wisely said nothing.

Thranduil stood up, if only to help disperse some of those still hovering near Lorna. "I have a question," he said to her, his intensely blue eyes looking especially contemplative. "Earlene...told me...that your ancestor was sent back to these shores because he was believed to be mentally disturbed or deficient. Did your research turn up any information as to whether this was indeed true?"

Lorna, silently grateful, said, "Not that I was able to find. They didn't keep much track'v that in children's homes. I know he grew up to be a drunk, but that could well'v just been bitterness. I'd be pissed too if my family got in but I got tossed back."

"His grandson was a tosser and a half," Mairead said darkly. She knew more about Lorna's da than Lorna herself probably did; their gran had not hidden her disdain for the man. "Makes me wonder if it ran in the family."

"I hope not," Lorna said, touching her abdomen, and yet part of her worried as well. She was self-aware enough to know that, had she not met the people she had over the course of her life, she might well have turned out something like him. Shane had probably been crucial in getting her set on another path; she'd told Thranduil months ago that she was not an inherently good person, but that the people in her life made her want to be. Shane was the first to make her feel like she was of any real value...and she just realized she had the perfect name for her son. "At least it won't carry on by nurture. Nature can be overridden." She glanced at Mairead, who, having dealt with her for so many years, would know that quite well.

"I would agree wholeheartedly," said Thranduil, who carefully kept the affection he felt for her from being revealed on his face. Turning back to the table, he commented, "I am going to get myself a sandwich, as I see that the table is now clean." Earlene and Thanadir looked at each other sheepishly. But the worst part was when each of them said, "I would like another sandwich," in stereo before both of them blushed furiously.

Thranduil chuckled softly. "Fear not, I will order three sandwiches. And salads," he added, noting the lamentable lack of anything resembling better nutrition among the sad remains of the baskets of chips and sandwiches. Anyone else?" he asked politely, before disinterested shakes of the head sent him back to the bar.

"One of these days, I will get you to eat a proper salad," Ratiri said, as Lorna sat, dodging more hugs.

"I had some spinach a week ago," she protested. "Why am I taking all these vitamins, if I've got to eat that green shite?"

"They're meant to supplement the green shite, not replace it," he said. "You need the iron, and you can't just go getting it from meat."

"No fun," she reasserted.

"You'll thank me when we have healthy children," he said.

"Earlene, tell me you know how to make a salad that isn't totally boring," she said, and didn't care how plaintive she sounded.

"I know how to make a great many of them. He's right, you know. I won't even take vitamins, because I don't believe the body can really use them in that form. Forgive me Ratiri, I have my foibles. I believe we're meant to get nutrients from food. Kale, collards, beet greens, arugula, lettuces, shredded root vegetables, endives...I guess I need to have you over for a dinner of salads. I understand, but I'm guessing you've not have salads worth having. The Italians alone have turned it into an art form. You've not lived until you've had a panzanella, with the radiccio seared just right and the tomatoes and beet greens marinated in the lemon juice…" she had to clap her hand over her mouth, because she could feel her own salivary glands having some kind of almost uncomfortable response to her imaginings. Though, she giggled to see the look of near rapture on Ratiri's face.

Most of those really did sound amazing. "Getting nutrients solely from food only works if you have unfettered access to enough of the right sort of food," he pointed out. "Most don't, unless they can both find it and afford it. And I know Lorna appreciates the effect the prenatal vitamins are having on her hair and her nails," he added, smiling at her.

"She actually let me cut it," Mairead said. "You know how long it's been since she's let me do that? She mostly trims it herself, because she's afraid I'll take off too much. Though it's been in such fantastic condition lately I haven't thought I needed to."

"It's grown like a weed," Lorna said. "Even I can only handle it so long. Past my bum is just too much."

"That doesn't change the fact that you need salads," Ratiri said. "And you can't just eat all the things you call 'interesting' and leave the lettuce or spinach. That's not how this works."

"You should've seen it when Gran tried to get her to eat her vegetables," Mairead said, rolling her eyes. "She was a terrible influence on my four. 'But Aunt Lorna's not eating her veg, so why should we?'" she mimicked.

"The joy of being a grown-up is that nobody can stop you eating like shite," Lorna said. "Unless you're knocked up, apparently."

Earlene sighed, not wishing to be seen as preachy by her friend. _Going on and on never changed how anyone chose to eat. But maybe eating vegetables that are prepared right will,_ thought Earlene. People didn't realize there was a world of difference in greens off a farm versus in the stores, or greens that came in from places where they technically would grow but weren't getting the right weather. Frost-kissed kale and summer kale...well, they might both be kale but the similarities stopped there. Gran had railed on about eating when she was younger, but had the kitchen know-how to back it up, and all that exposure to farm-fresh food had taught her a great many things. "Ratiri, I have to disagree with you slightly. People used to know how to preserve fresh foods, how to do more with them. Take cabbage. The only way it's more nutritious than just eating it is fermenting it, and then it lasts for months, tastes bloody wonderful, and has even more nutrients plus beneficial microbes. We just don't really pay attention to food any longer, as a society. There used to be ways people overcame the limitations you mention. They still exist, even if we've turned aside from them." She declined to mention that even now, a weighted crock of the stuff was out in her barn, and that she could hardly wait to get into it. She'd made the Vietnamese kind, with garlic and the hot peppers...and she had to clap her hand over her mouth again, wishing Jamie would hurry with the sandwiches.

"If you have the knowledge, and access to the necessary materials," he said. "I've seen more than one person in A & E with food poisoning from improperly canned goods. Too many of them either didn't sterilize it properly when they canned it, or it didn't seal right. There ought to be canning classes, so nobody winds up with botulism, but you'd still need properly fresh produce, and you're not going to find that in a supermarket. Farmer's markets are what you'd need, if you could find one."

"Molly keeps what she can in her shop that's grown here," Mairead said. "Christ can you taste the difference, too. Her apples...the main reason Siobhan and I can bake as we do is because'v the farmers. Nothing like fresh apples in an apple pie. I just wish cherry trees could handle it in Ireland, because it's hard to beat a fresh cherry pie." She sighed. "I've tried matching Gran's pickle recipe, but somehow they never do come out as good as hers did. I've never tried cabbage, but I ought to, since it's one'v the few things this one'll eat," she added, eying Lorna. "Lorna'll have more than enough fresh stuff once all the harvests're in. I might even be able to get her to eat carrots without drowning them in ranch dressing first."

"I like tomatoes, too," Lorna protested. Admittedly, she liked them with salt, but she didn't need to be mentioning that.

"Tomatoes are a fruit," Ratiri pointed out, and immediately wished he hadn't, because the glower she bent on him was rather disturbing.

Thranduil returned, placing sandwiches down for each of them. Earlene bit into hers, completely ignoring Ratiri's remark (was the man _trying_ to get himself lamped out?) but her mind had gone into overdrive. Once again, she had to force herself to slow down and chew her food, even as she stabbed at her salad with enthusiasm.

 _Meluieg, what is it that you want? I can see that you are trying to hide what you are thinking. Please do not._

Her head bowed, as she took another bite of sandwich. _I want a greenhouse, Thranduil. I can pay for one but I cannot construct it. Especially not now._

He saw in her mind what this was. _Why do you wish for this?_ He asked, wanting to understand clearly.

 _If we had one we could have some citrus trees. They cannot otherwise survive the cold here in Ireland. We could also raise plants faster, little starts from seeds that will grow more quickly that can be transplanted. I know it is asking much…_

 _Earlene, let me consider it, please? You do not need to feel ashamed of wanting things at your home, especially when those things might help all of us. I was resistant to the cow and I now see I was completely wrong about it. Later, I would like you to tell me more._

 _Yes, Thranduil._ She smiled, and felt very loved. _Lemon meringue pie…._

Lorna managed a second basket of chips, given Thranduil was on hand to deal with excess sodium. Eventually, once all baskets and plates were emptied, she stretched. "I ought to get you lot home, before I fall into a food coma," she said.

Earlene, while full, was also now slightly uncomfortable. "That's a good idea," she murmured, heading to the ladies' room. Thranduil grinned because in spite of all that, he could see she was still thinking about food. But it was not in jest...his gifts allowed him an unparalleled experience; the ability to understand the experience of a human woman's body as she carried a child. He was already in considerable awe, and they were not yet halfway through this adventure.

Ratiri, unfortunately, had work the next day, so he couldn't accompany them back. He kissed Lorna's forehead, and promised that he'd finish moving his shite on his next day off. They left amid a final flurry of congratulations, and as soon as they were outside, Lorna twitched.

"Why are people so tactile?" she asked, even as she let Ratiri hug her. "Seriously, they're so touchy-feelie, and most'v them ought to've known better."

"They're Irish," he said. "The only answer I can think of. Drive safe."

"There's a baby in the car," she said. "Of course I will."

"Three babies," he pointed out, rubbing her abdomen.

Lorna gave him a half-grin. "True. I'll see you tomorrow, allanah."

Chugging down the road, with Allanah sleeping soundly in her car seat, Thranduil spoke to Earlene. "Tell me now more about these citrus trees, meluieg. And what a greenhouse does."

"Well…" as quickly as she could, given that she doubted this topic was remotely interesting to Lorna, she outlined lemons, limes, oranges, grapefruits, the "-quats", and that there were basically an astonishing variety of possibilities. And that the greenhouse would work by keeping large volumes of water stored in barrels inside, to absorb heat during the day and release it at night, and that usually this system would allow for enough warmth to allow for the trees to do well enough. And in summer, it would also give them the extra heat they wanted. "I want the fruits because they are filled with vitamins and valuable in cooking," she said. "Especially the lemons. They cannot otherwise be grown here."

"Look into it, then. With Thanadir. And when you have something clearer in mind, we will see how this might work," he said. He did not let on, but that she knew so much about something from which they all might benefit was most beneficial.

"So, that went suspiciously well," Lorna said, when they'd reached the motorway. "One might even say unnaturally so." She cast a brief glance at Thranduil, eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at her mouth.

"So the King of the Gobshites has pleased you?" he said with a smile, as he gave her his sidewise glance without moving his head even a fraction of an inch.

Lorna burst out laughing, and tried to rein it in enough that she could actually stay in her own lane. "I'd wondered a bit. Thank you, Thranduil. I mean it. I'd been dreading that more than a bit. You've got a new nickname now: Scáileáin Saol. Means 'life-saver'." Which wasn't to say he'd dodged the other one, but this was one she'd actually say aloud. She was such shite at expressing herself, even now, but he'd know just how grateful she really was. It was so odd - at first she'd found the very idea of his telepathy horrifying, but now she was glad of it. It meant he knew all the things she didn't know how to give voice to.

"Then I am duly rewarded," he said drily, adding afterward with no trace of sarcasm, "You are welcome, Lorna." He knew that he might still not be one hundred percent back in her good graces, but he was trying, by every available means which he could feel did not exceed certain boundaries. Even though he did not believe he had done anything wrong. Neither would he admit that his wife's clear yet acerbic analysis of the situation had allowed him to form the idea in the first place. Just for a moment he allowed himself a thought of perverse pleasure; what his sire would think, to know of his life now. He wondered sometimes, _had Mandos ever released him?_ It had been a very long time; perhaps whatever corruption that had caused Oropher to behave as he had was now purged from him. _King of the Gobshites, he probably would have thought that most fitting. Wed to a mortal, and seeking to be friends with them. I'm sure I've managed to meet all of his staggeringly low expectations,_ he smiled. _But you were a fool, father. There is love and goodness in these people. There was love and goodness nearly everywhere, except with you…_

He glanced back to see Earlene held by Thanadir, contentment and security written all over her bearing. He smiled to see it, because he remembered well how many hours those same arms had held him, speaking words of consolation and counsel. His father had forged strength in him because there had been no other choice, if he wished to endure. Thanadir had done the rest, allowing him to believe in himself and see a way forward out of his own pain and despair. And here they all were now, riding along in a van in the modern human world. Could he ever have guessed at any of this? His mental meanderings were interrupted by the realization that they were already back. Understanding that Lorna was tired and wished to return home, they thanked her and made a hasty retreat into the house; he was the last one inside, lingering to ensure her nausea would be kept away for her return trip to Baile.

Before Lorna left, she passed Earlene a large, sealed envelope. "This is everything Orla found about Von Arsehole," she said. "I don't know what's in it, but I've never seen her so skeeved, and that is really, _really_ saying something."

When he returned inside, he found both his wife and seneschal standing to face him in the living area, with crossed arms and smirks. "Thanadir and I have to tell you that we have agreed upon a mildly subversive action," she said, with mock-imperiousness.

"Oh? And may I know what form this rebellion against my rule will take?" he said, half-amused and half-exasperated. He did not believe for a moment that this was to be anything terribly serious.

"Just this," said Thanadir, as both of them knelt before him. "Though you joke and have your fun with Lorna," he paused.

"You are yet our beloved King," Earlene finished. "And I for one am so proud of the kindness you showed to her today when you just as easily could have let matters alone."

"Which is to say," finished Thanadir, "that even though you have forbidden it here, our hearts compel us to disobey you. This once."

"You two," he whispered, kneeling down to join them and take them in his arms, hugging them tightly. "Then you must receive your punishment, which will be to later on view two Star Trek episodes, and three of Sean the Sheep." They all laughed together in love and absurdity, for what else could it be called?

It was good fortune that they were full, because Thanadir and Earlene now spent hours looking at earthen homes. She showed photo after photo, and so she would not tire of bending her neck down, she cast her laptop screen onto the television. Soon even Thranduil took notice and joined them. Discussions ensued about what they did not like (right angles and garish exterior colors) and what they liked very much (incorporating the living trees, using downed wood for support and roof timbers-oddly enough, they knew where to find at least one impressive specimen thanks to Earlene's near-accident-and the placement of glass bottles into walls to insulate and to admit extra light. The elves had timber stores of their own, and it occurred to Earlene that if they would simply spread the soiled straw from the cow into one particular paddock and allow her access for awhile every day that she could make some of the cob for them merely by walking around with her heavy hooves.) The excellent building material of used auto tyres could be had free from the mechanic in town, and wine and beer bottles were hardly in short supply in an Irish village. It was then that Thanadir asked for a bag of flour, and for them to please follow him. He led them into the woods, with Earlene vaguely wondering if he'd lost part of his collection of marbles. But no. He stopped at a particular clearing in 'her' part of the woods, where there were some of the largest trees. Using the flour to leave a glorified chalk line, he walked a curving perimeter as he described his idea for the overall shape of the home and how it would be used.

"This is huge," said Earlene, astonished to see the scale of what he was proposing.

"To do all that you have said you wish, this is how it would need to be, Earlene." According to the drawings, this would essentially be two homes, joined in the middle by a very large roofed space of astonishing versatility. It would be a place for children to play, adults to sit and converse. Snow and rain would be warded off in wintertime, and in summer it would be cool and shaded.

Looking back toward the cottage, some sixty feet distant, she commented, "there is easy enough access for both electrical and water. We could talk to Orla about connecting to the well for the cottage."

"No, meluieg. There is a natural spring not far from here. If we are not wasteful, there is enough water for many people and for the creatures of the forest also."

"And speaking of waste," she said, "what about sanitation?"

"I have studied the many possibilities. There are such things as ways to compost the wastes, and there is also what your home has already; a septic system. If I understood correctly we will not live here all of the time; that makes it easier."

Earlene nodded. Done right, those "eco" ideas could work, and she doubted Thanadir did much of anything too far wrong. And, she was aware that having a home designed by elves would require some concessions. She would have electricity and running water. Standard toilets were something she could manage without, as long as it was clean and without...smells. Seeing the flour outline made it seem far more...real.

"I am proposing this design because if we are to do this, it is as Lorna said. We should begin very soon."

"Lorna said that Orla could meet with both her and us, sometime this week. In fact I believe there was a day available two days from now. Do you think you could draw something, or could we have pictures to show her on the computer?" she asked Thanadir.

"Yes, if you help me. I do not wish to make notes in Tengwar if an outsider is to see what I have done, and my writing in your language lacks precision."

"I would be honored to," she said, genuinely awed at the idea that she could help him with something.

The old elf paused. Before, he would have thought about how this lack of ability on his part made him "worse," and yet what he would have missed was the joy in Earlene's eyes that she could help him in some manner. There had been many small occurrences of this nature over the past many days that continued to drive the lesson home. He was giving his all to no longer make comparisons, and was finding small delights unlooked for almost everywhere on account of it.

They returned to the house, and Earlene immediately sat at the table. "I guess we should read this, and get it over with. As Fearless Leader, I think the right of seeing this first goes to you," she said, handing Thranduil the envelope.

Taking it, the King grimaced. "You are assuming it is in some format I am capable of comprehending," he said, "but I thank you for your deference, however likely it is that you will have to decipher it."

He carefully slit the paper open with a knife he retrieved off the countertop, removed and unfolded a single piece of paper. It took exactly five seconds. "It is as I feared, meluieg. This requires translation." He handed the sheet to her. Taking it from him, she scanned it. He did not know it was possible to roll eyes and frown at the same time, but Earlene managed. Clearing her throat, she read:

"I don't know where you dug up this son of a bitch, but he's a sneaky fucker. He's mainly active in pharmaceuticals, but he's a silent shareholder in several forms that specialize in industrial chemicals and fertilizers. I do mean silent, too. I had a hell of a time tracing him, and it was almost always through someone who knew someone who was actually involved with him. I've attached papers related to each company and what his theoretical involvement is. I say 'theoretical' because he doesn't seem to really DO anything that I can find. He's just sort of there. He has two very fat bank accounts under his own name, but half a dozen more under various aliases, and I'm positive there are more I haven't found yet.

He's not new at this, though. I've found records of a Raoul von Ratched active in Germany in World War II, which was probably this twat's grandfather. Not MANY records, because that gobshite was just as secretive as this one, but he seems to have been involved in experimental medicine. Those were harder to get, and I'll warn you that some of them may not be accurate. Either way, he's inherited some shit, and seems determined to keep it hidden."

Earlene said nothing for a full two minutes, but her mind was visibly calculating. "Well, that's not good," she said quietly.

"There is much I do not understand in these references," said Thanadir.

Earlene looked up unhappily. "I will explain all of them to you, meldir. All I ask is, please not tonight. Give me until tomorrow. The things I will have to say will be very dark, and I do not wish to weigh down my heart when today has been so pleasant."

Having received several flashes of terrible things from his wife's mind, Thranduil nodded. "Tomorrow."

Earlene asked to be excused for a few minutes, mysteriously taking her laptop into the bedroom. Perceiving her veiled thoughts, Thranduil rose and followed her a moment later, where he found her seated on the bed reading like mad.

He sat next to her, loosening the laces of her top, and gently brought his mouth to her breast, causing her to moan. "That is not fair," she whispered. "How am I supposed to do this when you are...driving me crazy"?

"I am teaching you, meluieg," he managed to mumble without ever releasing her breast. Which was fairly impressive, actually.

"Teaching me what, that I cannot resist your seductions? Did we not establish that the first five minutes you met me?"

He had been attempting to enjoy a particularly luxurious drink of her milk when he had to stop on account of laughter. "I suppose that is true," he chuckled, electing to take pity on her as he restored her clothing. "I had meant, you are in here hiding your thoughts from me again."

"You are not the only one who can hear me, my...Thranduil, and the reason I am doing that is because I am trying to buy Thanadir a gift. A surprise. I never know when he will choose to look in on me, and I am taking no chances."

"And what is this surprise? Did you not know, meluieg *kiss*, that I can *kiss* keep him from hearing you if you would but confide in me?" He was teasing her mercilessly.

"Well I do now," she said, exasperated, though it did not stop her from reciprocating his affection eagerly. "You have never actually told me this before, in case you did not realize," she returned, not about to be outdone. "It is a violin," she said. "I wanted him to have more musical instruments to play. Perhaps next it will be a flute. He learns everything, so quickly, and I would dearly love to hear him play for me when I have reached the proportions of a small land mass and cannot do very much else."

"It might not be that bad, meluieg," he said, unconvincingly. She was, for all he knew, only a quarter of the way through her time, and already her belly was stretching.

"I wanted this," she reminded him. "I did not expect it to be perfectly easy. That you have made it so simple for me, thus far, I appreciate more than you can know."

"I have not done anything except help bring on your milk, Earlene. The rest has all been you. You deserve much credit for the care you have taken of your body. And, yes, you are having a measure of good fortune as well. But know that I will help you in every way I can, just as I have done for Lorna."

Earlene smiled, as she clicked the order button. "I said I would never ask about your relationship with her, and I still do not want to. But something that was said the other day; I cannot seem to get it out of my mind. Are you going to…?"

He smiled at her. "If I am, I would keep my promise and never tell, meluieg. After all, it is a natural occurrence. I do not interfere with everything, contrary to popular belief."

"Of course," she said, smiling knowingly. "I love you, Thranduil," came through with her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"And I you. Now perhaps you can come out of this room, and allow Thanadir to enjoy his punishment?"

"As you wish," Earlene snickered, standing up on her toes to kiss his cheek.


	43. Chapter 43

WARNING TO READERS **this chapter contains a non-con scene in which a female character is assaulted "off-screen". No graphic descriptions.**

* * *

Lorna spent the evening curled up on her newly-reupholstered sofa, making her way through _The Silmarillion_ while sipping cocoa.

It was easier, without the dyslexia, but she was still never going to read as fast as Earlene, and certainly not as fast as Ratiri. There was just no competing with someone who could read this entire book in a day, god dammit.

It was _weird_ , too, reading this and knowing some of the people who had witnessed it - or parts of it, anyway - in real life. Some elf must have found Tolkien, or vice versa, and laid it all out on him before headed to Valinor or Aman or wherever the hell most of them had gone. Thranduil and Thanadir were Sirs Not Appearing In This Book, but still...yeah, it was weird.

The back of her neck prickled, hairs rising. Puzzled, she looked up - and screamed bloody fucking murder.

Von Ratched, the creepy fucker from Earlene's lawyer-party - Von Ratched the god damned _Maia_ \- was standing on her lawn, staring in at her. What... _what? How -?_

For a moment, she froze, unable to believe just what she was seeing. Those ungodly pale eyes - how had she ever thought _Thranduil_ had zombie eyes? - were fixed on her with something she vaguely recognized as predatory, an icy fascination in their arctic depths.

It was only a moment, though; heart lurching, adrenaline dumping into her veins in a searing flood, Lorna scrambled to her feet. Instinct ran through fight-or-flight even as she knocked over her cocoa, and dismissed both: she couldn't outrun him, and she couldn't even fight an elf, let alone - whatever the fuck he was.

She was going to die. He'd found her, _somehow_ , and he was going to fucking murder her.

Her feet moved without her conscious will, sending her tearing for the kitchen. Grandda's .12 gauge stood beside the fridge, and she scrambled through a drawer for a box of shells probably older than Mam. Her trembling hands dropped most of them, but the heat of rage, lovely, welcome rage, steadied her a bit. If he was here to kill her - and she couldn't imagine why else he _would_ be - she wasn't going to make it easy, god dammit.

She managed to get one into each barrel, locking it shut, and with terror and wrath warring in her gut like rabid rats, she kicked open her front door. Facing him down the barrel of a gun gave her a brief illusion of safety.

" _Get off my lawn_ ," she snarled, and gave him both barrels.

The boom was nearly deafening, the recoil enough to dislocate her left shoulder - nearly enough to knock her right on her arse.

She hadn't actually expected to hit him, though she'd hoped she might get lucky. No dice - he grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of her hand. Faster than she could blink, he'd tossed it aside, seizing her by the throat and driving her back into the cottage.

"It has been a very long time since someone tried to shoot me, little Lorna," he said, backing her into the wall. He wasn't quite choking her, but she could feel the strength in his hand; he could snap her neck in half a breath.

"What else was I supposed to do?" she asked, before her mouth could consult her brain. "Wait for you to bust in here? Hide until you dragged me out and killed me?"

Kill her? _Kill her?_ Oh, if she only knew. "You have much strength of spirit, little Lorna," he said, stroking his thumb along her jaw. She twitched, and snarled at him. "Such a pity it is not matched by strength of mind."

Lorna fought it, for all she knew it was pointless: her fledgling forays into 'thinking nothing' were as much use as wet tissue paper. She never actually knew when Thranduil was in her head - he left no mental footprint - but Von Ratched...it was like he was digging through her brain with a rusty spoon, tearing through her mind without thought or care, and oh Christ, was _this_ how she died?

 _No._ She kicked him, hard, but all it did was make something in her own ankle go _click_. Her blunt nails clawed at his hand with a ferocity that gouged his skin, and still he didn't relent. His grip remained relatively lax, just enough to hold her in place, but fighting it would leave bruises, should she live long enough, for his fingers were hard as stone.

He released her abruptly and she staggered away from him, having great, burning breaths, her raw throat on fire. Without thinking she braced her left arm on the wall and shoved her shoulder back into the socket with a _crack_.

Avathar watched her, intrigued. She knew she was going to lose, and yet she defied him - so unlike the others he had hunted over the centuries, when his boredom grew too great. They groveled and pleaded, but little Lorna...she was terrified of him, but she was also enraged. She would not flee into the night.

He smiled, slow and predatory. It had been years since he'd truly _wanted_ , but he wanted now. He would take of her, and he would give, and he would not even burden her with memory. He would even be merciful and spare her her children, which would require a certain amount of care.

Thranduil, however, would see all of it. Every. Last. Detail. It would be worse for him than if she was forced.

Lorna, momentarily unaware of his intent, snatched a lamp, or tried to; she found herself unable to move, completely paralyzed as a strange, hazy warmth filled her mind, driving out all fear and wrath and, shortly, rational thought.

He approached, running his thumb along her cheek. She truly did have remarkable eyes, hazed though they now were with forced desire. This close, he realized that the lavender he had smelled at the party was not her shampoo, but merely _her_ \- lavender and lightning, a combination so heady he couldn't have left if he'd wanted to.

"You will enjoy this, little Lorna," he said, tilting her chin up, "though not half so much as I." He bent his head and kissed her - softly at first, for in this he would be no monster, and smiled when she kissed him back, quite thoroughly under his spell. Breaking the kiss, he took her hand - such a small hand, though strong for a firieth - and led her to her bedroom.

When he was finished, he washed her and dressed her and healed almost all evidence of his presence; she would assume she had had some pleasurable dream, forgotten upon waking. She had quite enjoyed herself, if he did say so himself; he had taken many a woman to his bed, most lovelier than her in a conventional sense, and yet, though she was not untouched, there was something pure in her, something the others had lacked. She would go to Thranduil with his message, and he would be quite curious to know what the Elvenking would do with it. Would he tell Lorna what had been done to her, or would he elect to bear the burden of it alone? If he said nothing, she had no reason not to return home, and perhaps...well.

Perhaps Avathar would have to call again. Little Lorna Donovan could prove very addictive.

When Lorna woke, she was surprised to find herself in bed; she didn't remember _going_ to bed. She did feel a touch under the weather, though, and she'd zombied about half asleep far more often than once, if she'd crashed on her sofa before moving to her bed. A dull headache squeezed at her temples, annoying but far from crippling.

A glance at the bedside clock told her she'd best get showered and off to Lasg'len. If she was coming down with something, Thranduil could fix it easily enough. She was also sore somewhere she shouldn't be sore, unless something was wrong. _That_ she'd definitely have him fix, and without telling Ratiri; if he didn't have to worry, there was no point worrying him.

She actually remembered to take all her vitamins, though she wrinkled her nose at having to drink the weird protein shake Ratiri had insisted was some recipe of his mother's. She liked spicy things, just not this early in the morning - she was allowed one cup of tea a day, so she just made sure it was a very _big_ cup, and put it in her Thermos before heading out to Lasg'len. It was a bit odd, actually; she'd spent so many years rarely leaving Baile, and now she was back and forth all the time.

The day was slightly overcast, but still warm, and it looked like it would burn off later. It had been a sunny summer, by Irish standards, but Ireland was Ireland, and would only tolerate clear skies for so long.

The smoke issuing from the cottage chimney told her Earlene was home, so she headed for the front door once she'd parked. Christ, this headache was getting a touch worse, but Ratiri had told her only to take paracetamol if she really, really needed it, and this was nowhere near that level. Between that and the discomfort down under, she really wished she could have more caffeine.

"Everybody decent in there?" she called, cracking the door open as she rapped on it.

"Come on in," Earlene hollered, though she could not move. Lorna entered the home to see one of those things that made her head pound a little harder, because it was too goddamn funny, but she knew she must not laugh. Must. Not. There Earlene was, with Thanadir. They both had on aprons that were spattered with flour, and Thanadir's was much more gummed than Earlene's. And it was beyond obvious, she was trying to teach the elf to bake breads. "You must stop thinking about the recipe, Thanadir, and listen to me. That is only half of the information. Bread is like...children. You can read all you wish to about how to raise them, but in the end each child is different and you must come to the task with flexibility as well as the sum of your knowledge. That dough is trying to speak to you, meldir, and you are not listening to it."

"But it is not saying _anything._ It has no mouth, Earlene," he said, frustrated.

She sighed. "It is a figure of speech. What I mean is...let me ask this way. What does the dough feel like to you, right now?"

"It is very sticky."

"Good, that is correct. Now what did I explain the dough must feel like, if you are to be successful?"

"It must have some texture of being sticky, but it will stay together and not come off on my hands."

"Yes. And how did the book explain you would correct this?"

"I would knead more flour into it until it behaves as it is supposed to?"

"And what did Earlene tell you to use so that you'd make far less of a mess doing it?"

"The dough scraper."

"Show me," she said, trying to smile encouragingly, before she remembered. "Sure god Lorna, I'm sorry, we've been so wrapped up in this. Tea?"

No one knew why that question even got asked. They'd all heard Ratiri's lectures, so now she kept an herbal blend that was quite tasty on hand, with no caffeine. Something she'd known of in the States. "We'll not be much longer here, and I think Thranduil's in the barn looking at the chicks." She reduced her voice to a whisper. "He thinks I don't know he likes to pet them," she explained with a conspiratorial wink.

Lorna burst out laughing. "Who _doesn't_ like to pet baby chicks?" she whispered back. "Anyone who doesn't has something wrong with them. Or is allergic to chickens, if that's even a thing. I'll go find him - I've got a headache that's enough to be annoying, but not enough to justify a paracetamol." She wasn't going to mention her other little issue, because...just no.

Out she went, squinting a little when a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds. He'd been so miserable when last she'd seen him out here that she was almost nervous to go looking. "How big are these fluffy little bastards?" she called, opening the wire gate.

"Big enough to be less amusing, small enough that eggs are still months off", he lamented. "And yet I still find that I like them, especially these Buff Orpingtons...and this little one," he bend down to hold out a few bits of cracked corn between his long fingers, "has especially learned that I am a good food dispenser. She likes me," he said happily. "And how are you to- " The words died on his lips. "You are not feeling well?" he asked, desperately wanting to be wrong about the first signs of what he was perceiving.

"I've got a bit'v a headache," she said, kneeling to hold out her finger to a chick. It inspected it, but, as there was no food involved wandered off. "And I'm a bit, er, sore. Where I shouldn't be. It's not anything dangerous for the sprogs, is it?" She stood, wincing a bit. "I can't imagine why it would be, but what the hell do I know?"

He stared at her, trying desperately to think, and decided to sit, because at least that would buy him a few more seconds. His voice was as strained as she had ever heard it when he spoke again. "Lorna, I need to ask for your trust. In order to be certain of why this is the case"-his guts were wrenching to have to edge around his suspicions, but he could not afford to be wrong about this-"I need to look into you more deeply than usual. And for that to be safe, you need to willingly open yourself to me. This can only work if you can genuinely do this with no reservations. And after what has passed between us…" he looked down for a moment, before meeting her eyes to await her answer.

Okay, he was royally freaking her out now. She'd seen him upset - hell, more than upset - but this was different. She didn't know _what_ this was, but she knew that he wouldn't be asking this just for shits and giggles. Disturbed though she was, she felt an odd impulse to comfort him in spite of her own nerves. "Okay," she said. It wasn't easy - she still hadn't forgot what he'd done, after all - but this was Thranduil. She knew, deep down, that she could trust him with the big shite. He wouldn't be so insistent unless it was damn serious. "But you've got to tell me why, once you're, y'know, done."

He nodded, and patted the bench for her to sit next to him. "Do your best to look into my eyes, and not blink if you can help it," he asked with one of the worst attempts at a smile yet seen from him. One of his hands held the back of her head while the other supported her spine. He looked into her memories even as he dissolved the pain of her headache; her blood pressure was yet normal. He moved through thoughts that were hidden more deeply until… Not visibly reacting to what he'd found there was probably among the hardest things he'd ever done as ruler. And it had been done on account of _him_. She had been used to strike at _him_. His spirit was tearing with grief even as he gave his all not to show that to Lorna. And the pain she had been left with, in her intimate places, that was meant as an obscene kind of a calling card. Blinding rage threatened to well up within him...and yet how would he assist her not to feel the same if he allowed himself that luxury? Every spoken curse he had ever known tapped at the corners of his mind, for what he wanted to do to this creature. But his first concern must always be those he loved, as it ever had been.

"This next part is as awkward for me as for you. There is nothing wrong with the children. I can remove your discomfort, but I think we would both strongly prefer it if I not touch you on that particular part of your body. But if you can cover yourself with your own hand, and I can touch on top of your hand, that will work just as well. It is up to you," he said simply. Buying just a little more time, he tried to understand how by all the Valar and Eru as well he was supposed to impart this information that felt like it was destroying him. As it was _meant_ to. As it was _intended_ to.

"...Okay," she said, wishing this was the weirdest thing she'd been asked to do lately. (It wasn't. Ratiri and his food concoctions...no.) Sticking her hand over her crotch was a bit odd, yeah, but rather less odd than the rest of Thranduil's behavior. Why was he freaked out? What the hell was he looking for in her head? "Hit me, I guess. Well, you know." She gave him a slightly awkward pat on the arm with her free hand, just because she felt like she ought to do _something_.

Gingerly, he reached down to touch the tops of her fingers, until no trace was left of the soreness. Withdrawing his hand, he gave a tremendous sigh. "And now for the fun part," he said, "which is not fun at all." He looked at her very intently. "Tell me what I do, Lorna, when what I must tell you will cause you to become very angry, with good reason. What do I do, to help you for the sake of the children? I would rather not damage again what I have so badly wanted to repair," he said, with the look of someone truly at a loss for what to do.

"I…" She stared at him, totally unable to answer that question. A chick pecked her foot, then wandered off. How to keep her from getting angry, without knocking her out again? Jesus. "Um...okay, try this." It was an odd attempt at a solution, but it was the only one she had, and he looked like he needed it anyway. Scooting over, she wrapped him in as much of a bear hug as someone as tiny as her could manage. "There. If this doesn't work - if whatever you tell me still flips me out - you have my permission to knock me out...temporarily. For like, five minutes."

Oddly enough, the courage of those tiny arms helped to give him back some of his own. "Earlene told me once that if I had something very difficult to say, that I should state the crux of the matter plainly. And then once the words were said, that it would be less awkward to continue the discussion. There is no good way to say this, Lorna, so I will try her advice. That man from New York, Von Ratched, found you at your home. He overruled your thoughts and your will, and he had intercourse with you without your knowledge or consent. And he did this because he saw it as a way to strike at me in a manner guaranteed to get my attention." For all his strength, he could no longer control his emotions. "I would give my life for this not to have happened. Please believe me. I am so sorry," he said in a voice filled with anguish, as adrift as he'd ever felt in all his long life.

It actually took Lorna a moment to register what he'd said, just because it seemed so totally ludicrous. "The creepy bastard from Earlene's party?" she demanded, leaning back enough to look up at him. "He found - he did _what_?" The only thing - the _only thing_ \- that kept her from exploding into a tirade and a half was the fact that Thranduil looked like someone had sucker-punched him right in the solar plexus.

How had - if Von Ratched had found her, _how_? How could he have tracked her down and - and - Christ, her skin was crawling, as though doused in some invisible, unexpected toxin. "I-" She couldn't go anywhere with that, because words weren't to be found. Without realizing what she was doing, she clawed at her arms through her shirt, suddenly so fucking _filthy_ , and - and -

But there was Thranduil, who really did look as though he'd been hit, and hard. "Stop fucking looking like that," she demanded, wrapping her arms around him again because seriously, what else could she do? Just... _what_? " _Stop_."

His arms came around her, and he did not ask permission. "We will have to bring each other through this, Lorna. If I am to stop looking like that, the price is that you too must master yourself. We both must. Or else he wins. I do not yet see how, but he will pay for what he has done. I will not let him win. This is a heavy blow upon my spirit, but I will agree to fight him. I will deny him the satisfaction he imagines he will get from this attack, if you will. For that is what it was. I believe your military leaders would call what he has done a 'preemptive strike'."

"I'll kill him," she said flatly. "I swear to bloody Christ I'll find a way to skin him alive, even if it takes me fifty bloody years. I need my grandda's gun, but if that son'v a bitch has been in my cottage...how the fuck can I keep him out?" She looked up at him again. "Can you keep him out'v my head? Can you build me a...a wall, or something? If this is just his preamble, if he's not going to fuck off, I don't want him to ever have a chance to get in my head again."

Thranduil shook his head. "Your gun will not help you. There were few weapons ever made that could harm him meaningfully, and because he could overrule your mind, you would never have a chance. You did shoot him, somehow, which is impressive. And because the weapon was not powerful enough to kill him at once, he lives. It might have taken him three minutes to heal from his injuries, if that. You cannot keep him out, nor can you kill him by any means that comes to mind. He is like me, Lorna, but without the restraints of morality. I have little I can offer you. Were you wed to me, you would have the same protections as Earlene, but...we both know that is not possible. Her necklace functions as it does because she is sealed to me in spirit. You and I cannot have that same bond. The only thing I can offer is the protection of my Realm. He cannot come into my Halls, that much is absolute. Were he to come into my forest, he would be known in seconds. Please stay here. I do not wish to tell you this, but he hoped that I would not tell you, so that he would have another chance at you. He finds you...attractive." He turned his head away. "It turns my stomach to say these things," he whispered.

It was nearly enough to make Lorna vomit, too. He'd been looking at her so oddly at that party, but she hadn't interpreted it right at all, apparently. "So I can't go home," she said, and it wasn't a question. "I have shite there. My computer, my...just, things. And Ratiri - Christ, if he's read my mind, he knows about Ratiri. Ratiri's not safe, either."

Shutting her eyes, she shuddered, her grip on him tightening to the point that a human might have been fearing for their ribs. "I know we've got to tell Earlene and Thanadir the fucker's here, and that he's been at my house and in my head, but Thranduil, you've got to do this for me: don't tell them anything more. Not what he did. I'll not have anyone looking at me like some kind'v fucking _victim._ " She'd tell Ratiri, once she knew how, but this - she didn't want this known. She couldn't bear it.

"I will do as you ask, Lorna, but they would both not look at you in any such capacity, after perhaps a few minutes of the initial shock. You cannot really know what lies within them, but I do. And, he could care less about Ratiri. This was not very much about you, Lorna. It was about me. That he found you attractive comes about fifteenth after the chance to strike at an elf still living in this world, not that I am in the least denigrating your appeal."

"I just...nobody can know," she said, somehow managing to curl into a ball without actually letting go. "Ratiri, I'll tell him, because I can't keep this from him, but I've got to try to get him here, too, because Ratiri's your friend and my boyfriend and I don't trust that fucker not to hurt him, and I can't lose him, I _can't_." She wasn't crying because she couldn't cry over this, and she didn't really even _want_ to - she didn't know what she wanted. She'd shot the fucker, at least she could tell herself that, for all the good it had done her. "I just... _Jesus_. I need my shite. I need Ratiri. Would it be safe for me to go back to the cottage in daylight? I just need a few things."

"Only with me. And I will tell you now, not knowing where he is, what he is doing, what his next move is...I do not wish to leave. But if you ask it of me, I will. I would rather that Ratiri bring those items to you here."

She shouldn't ask him to - it wasn't fair, not when they really didn't know where Von Ratched was or what he was doing - but Christ, she couldn't sit here. She couldn't. If she wouldn't be able to go home for God knew how long, she had to see it once, to gather her things and lock it up and...and… "If I stay, I'll go barking," she said, the words not much more than a whisper. "I can't go in there and pretend yet, I _can't_ , and I know it's not fair, I know I haven't actually got any right to ask you to go with me, but I've got to. I can't stay, not now. I need...I just…" Words failed her yet again, but what she needed was to go out on the highway, to feel like she had at least a _little_ control. She was angry, yes, very angry, but it was contained, buried deep and kept safe away until she could let it out more safely. A chilly rage, deep and still as an Arctic lake at dawn.

"If you need it, you will have it," he said soothingly, sending Thanadir a silent message. "Come. I must have something, before we can leave, it is in the Halls. If you wish greater speed, ride on my back and I will carry you. If you wish to walk, take my arm." Silently she pointed "up", and with a grin, he sat once again on the bench so that she could climb onto his back, telling her how to use his hands as stirrups. "Hold onto my neck, but I would like it if you do not choke me."

"I'll try," she said, thinking, even through everything, that this was one of the more ridiculous things she'd done. And yet, oddly, it was comforting; Shane had had to carry her like this, when she'd been stabbed in the foot as a teenager. She'd felt safer this way than she had almost any other time she was growing up.

He sprinted off at a pace that was fast enough to be distracting, with strides that were surprisingly smooth and free of jostling. They made it to the Gates in perhaps four or five minutes, as his long legs devoured the distance. "Come," he said again, offering his arm. They traversed the long walkways, and then set off in a direction he had never taken her before, to end up at a nondescript but heavy wooden door. He paused a moment. "I had not intended to bring you here, but as they say, what difference does it make, at this point? I already know you will not reveal what you see inside, you have more than earned my trust. Waving his hand over the door, he pulled it open, and by some means or other caused the lights to brighten. "I doubt the nature of this location needs explanation," he said, smirking.

"...Jesus fucking Christ," she breathed. No wonder he thought the gifts he'd given her were like giving somebody marbles. She hadn't thought this much bling had existed in the entire world, and it was enough to distract her, just for a moment. Gems of all colors and sizes, gold and silver, necklaces and bracelets and Christ knew what else, all in a space that was less a vault and more a cavern. It glittered in the light, the air almost shimmering. "What - what's in here, that you need?"

"Something I hoped never _to_ need," he said, with a heavy heart. He led her through the aisleways to where a simple rack was mounted into the stone walls, and on the pins rested a single sword in a black scabbard. With a deft motion of his wrist, he partially unsheathed it, to reveal a blade so black it seemed to swallow the light around it. And indeed, to look on it was to believe one was seeing pulsing and thin veins of fiery light, even as a slight chill filled the air nearby. Thranduil quickly drove the blade home, and the sense of draining warmth dissipated. "This is Anguriel, believed to be lost to the ages. Do you know the name, Lorna?"

She'd made her way through most of _The Silmarillion_ by now, but there were so damn many names that she had to hunt her memory. "Was it made by the twat in the forest? Starts with an E, ends with 'hello, dubious consent'?" Which really was not something she needed to be thinking about right now, and she shuddered, barely fighting an urge to scratch at her own skin.

"Only you, my friend," the King shook his head smiling. "Yes. 'That twat' was named Eöl, and whatever else you may think of him, no one else ever achieved what he did in the history of our people. However questionable. Do not think for a moment that he was other than great and powerful, though how he used those gifts left something to be desired. Be careful, too, about viewing everything in the books you have read as an absolute truth. The tales are true from a certain point of view, and yet they did not represent the only version of those same matters. We do not know the full story of Eöl and Aredhel, that much is certain. But I did not come here to give a lecture on the history of Beleriand. I am here because this is perhaps the only weapon that exists capable of giving me a significant advantage against our foe. Lorna, I want you to look at me now, and hear what I am going to tell you." And he did wait, until he was certain as he could be that he had as much of her attention as she was capable of giving under the circumstances. "This blade is not ordinary, Lorna. It is deadly. It has a will of its own, the will of its dark maker. It wants to kill. It wants to drain the spirit of another, for indeed that is what it was forged to do. You must not touch it for any reason. Not in curiosity, not in anger. It takes a great force of mind and body to control, and you do not possess what is necessary. No mortal now living does, and few elves do either. To handle it, even sheathed, is to risk your life. I want your word that you will not attempt to come near to this object, and I will be asking the same of Earlene and Ratiri."

It was somehow one of the loveliest yet most horrifying things Lorna had ever seen. She wondered how in the name of bloody fuck Thranduil had wound up with it, but this wasn't the time to ask. "I promise," she said. Swords were not for her. She was a creature of the modern world; knives were as close as she would get. She looked up at him. "Are you going to kill that son'v a bitch with it?" she asked, searching his face. "Will you gut him like a bloody trout so I can piss on his corpse?" Because that was, she knew, the only closure she would ever get. If she couldn't kill him, she could damn well mutilate whatever remained of him, and leave him no dignity in death. It might not be enough even then, but she'd try to make it so.

"I will use it to defend those to whom I owe my duty, and my Kingdom. As will Thandir, when he has occasion to bear it. Should that creature attempt to come here, yes, I will try to kill him. But I will not hunt him into the outer world, which is perhaps what he desires will occur. I had hoped we would be left alone; I would not ever have attempted to seek him out. Interfering with whatever he is doing in the wider world exceeds the scope of my purpose, unless the Valar themselves were to command me to do otherwise. And yet that is not and never has been their way. Should I succeed, I promise that I will not interfere in whatever you wish to do to what remains. But that is part of my thinking in bearing Anguriel. I have already explained that he cannot be killed in a permanent sense. But this blade has the ability to drain his power away, so that whatever continues on will be weakened, impaired. If I could ruin his ability to take on a form that will keep him from ever again functioning in your world, it would be a worthy achievement." He buckled the sword onto the left side of his belt, and offered his arm again.

Wrong as it was, Lorna almost hoped they'd run into the fucker. Maybe this nightmare could be over before it began for anyone but her. "I wish it could be me," she admitted, taking his arm. If she leaned on him more heavily than usual, she could probably be forgiven. "I wish I could...I supposed I ought to be grateful I don't remember anything, but I still wish I could pull a bloody Viking eagle on him. Even that wouldn't be revenge enough." How in God's bloody name...no. She wouldn't think of it right now, just like she wouldn't think about the fact that if the fucker decided to stay out of the forest, she might never be able to go home. These were not thoughts that would be of any help to anyone.

He led her down more twisting corridors until they were at the now more familiar armory. There was a particular side room, from which he removed a particular blade from a cabinet more ornate than the others. Walking down the passage further, he went into the practice room, and retrieved one of the throwing knives Earlene used for practice, offering the handle to her. "You are blessed with much courage, Lorna. You are a match even for me in this regard, and I do not say that lightly. I would like to be wrong, but I believe we will not have to go looking for this one even were we inclined to. That he would come here so quickly after learning of us speaks of a certain impatience. And while an aggressor appears to have strength, it is often a sign of fearfulness. I do not know where this creature was during the War of the Ring, but Sauron was defeated just on account of such foolish overreach, when otherwise victory would have been unquestionably his."

"I don't feel very courageous right now," she sighed. "I just want revenge, which I know isn't the same thing." She took the knife, turning it in her hands. Shane had taught them all how to throw knives, but she'd never been very good at it - if she hit something, it was likely by accident. "If he comes looking...I hope I'm there, if you find him. I'd like to watch him die." She shifted the knife in her fingers, eying the nearest target. It had been years since she'd done this, yet somehow the blade actually hit the target, sinking in with a satisfying _thunk_. "And if possible, I'd like to stick one of those in his eye." _Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why_. She'd never get the chance to visit the contents of that speech upon him, but hell, a girl could dream.

"Very good," he complimented. "I am ready to return when you are," he said quietly. Seeing that she was more than willing to depart, he led her out via the doors in the forges, then on through the woods back to the cottage. "Go ahead and start your vehicle, and I will give Thanadir his sword. I will join you in just a moment. Is that acceptable?" he asked, realizing that she might not wish to be left alone for any reason.

Lorna nodded. "I still need a little time, before I deal with...other people. Figure out where to put this... _this_." She fished her keys out of her pocket, but realized her handbag was in the cottage. _Dammit._ Her hands weren't steady, the keys jangling slightly. "Can you get my bag? I'll get everything sorted in the car."

"Of course," he said, and he did not move. Seconds later Thanadir appeared outside with the requested bag, unfortunately not doing a very good job of appearing dignified in his flour-covered apron. It would have been tempting to laugh but for the look on his face. There was nothing amusing about it. Thranduil silently offered him the hilts of his sword, while Thanadir took notice of the weapon his King bore. His jaw tightened. If there was any doubt about the seriousness of their circumstances, it was gone now. With a curt nod of his head, the seneschal disappeared back inside.

Lorna fired up the engine, and the purring rumble of it calmed her a bit, the miserable whirl of her thoughts stilling somewhat. "Okay," she said, hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, "I can get us to Baile in half an hour, but I need you to trust me."

"I am harder to kill than you are," was all he said in reply.

In spite of everything, _that_ made her smile. "Good." She was reasonable going through the village, but even then, being behind the wheel of this powerful engine made her feel powerful, too. Once she hit the back roads outside of town, though, all bets were off. The pavement was dry, so she felt no compunction in taking them at 113, motorway-speed. The engine growled like a demon, tires eating up the asphalt as she shifted. To feel the stick beneath her palm, the satin-smooth shift of gears...oh, it helped. It helped a great deal - though it helped even more when they reached the motorway, which fortunately wasn't in heavy use.

She stomped the accelerator, the needle on the speedometer climbing to 160 as she wove her way to the fast lane. There was little she could do right now, but she could drive - she drove like a maniac, and she was _good_ at it.

Thranduil refused to react, knowing how much she needed this. In a brooding silence, he fingered the hilt of Anguriel and allowed some of his anger to simmer away, that this accursed weapon was even in his hand. The sword had lain all these ages in his vault for a reason. It was not a weapon that a Child of Ilúvatar should ever have conceived, much less wielded. He wondered, idly, why Eöl created this. Created _these_ , actually, for this was a sundered twin; the shards of its mate were long gone beneath the waves and now only Ulmo knew its fate. He wanted to believe, he hoped, that the intent had been to fashion a mighty weapon against the powers of Morgoth. But he himself had heard its whispers, and was not so certain. _Valar, let this end swiftly_ , he silently prayed. _And grant me your wisdom._ He had so much to lose, now, that he had not had before. But he knew he could not change Vairë's tapestry; what would be, would be. When was the last time he had prayed, for anything?

Lorna calmed, even as her pulse jumped. The needle climbed to 190, other cars scattering out of her way with a chorus of honks, but the Charger purred and almost flew, and something in her, some knot of ugly tension, loosened a fraction.

She was sane enough to slow down as they approached the off-ramp, but even then she was doing twice the legal limit on the back roads. She only dropped to the actual speed limit when she approached Baile, lest they draw attention she was in no fit mental state to deal with.

Looking at her cottage...hurt. This was her home, her sanctuary, and it had been invaded in the worst way. It was so lovely now, just as it ought to be, and God knew when she'd be able to come back.

"All right," she said, slowing to a stop. "I just need a few things, and I've got to talk to Ratiri, but sure Christ I'm not ready to do that, not face-to-face. I don't know how in fuck I'll deal with anyone ever again." She had to tell him this, sooner or later...didn't she? Surely, if she could be forgiven for keeping anything at all to herself, it would be this.

He reached over to place his hand on her. "I will be touching you as much as possible while we are here." He pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing at what he'd just said. "Let me try that again. I will be keeping my hand on you to shield your thoughts, just in case."

(Even now, even in spite of everything, Lorna couldn't help it. "That's what she said," she muttered.)

"And no, Lorna. This is not your shame. If you will not allow me to bear the guilt and discomfort for what has transpired when all of this was on my account, neither are you allowed. You have a family for a reason, and this is not the time to shut them out. When our people are attacked, who attacks one attacks all. We stand with each other. You required me to disclose the most painful thing I have ever spoken to another in my entire life to you, today. You owe Ratiri no less." He spoke so very quietly, but with a conviction that was painful to hear.

"How?" she asked, looking at him. Her voice was unsteady, and she hated it. "How can I tell him? I don't know that I could even spit out the words. It's...I wish there was a manual for this sort'v thing. You know how shitty I am at expressing myself even when something horrible hasn't happened." Was that really the most painful thing he'd ever had to tell anyone in eighteen thousand years? Surely there had been worse. This was bad, but she wasn't the first woman this had happened to, nor would she be the last.

"Yes, it is," he said, with more anguish in his voice than he intended to allow. "Elves cannot be...raped," he said. "I have never known the pain of speaking this to another." He sighed. "Lorna, it may be best to retrieve your belongings and tell him he must come to you at the Halls. That you are safe, but are not able to return. And that you will explain when he comes. He will worry, but not like he will worry if you tell him now and then depart with me. You are carrying his children. To any kind of man of worth, that means...everything. But if you would rather speak to him now, I will help you. Either way, I am not leaving the sight of you. I too am shaken."

She really wasn't used to hearing him like that, and she hoped like hell she'd never have to be. Leaning awkwardly over the gearshift, she hugged him. "Every time you sound like that, I'm going to hug you," she warned. "Then you'll get Lorna cooties and smell like flowers, and my hair might try to eat you." Shutting her eyes, she sighed. "I can't tell him now. I'll call him and tell him he's got to get some things and get ready to stay in the Halls a while. He can tell Doc Barry there's an outbreak'v something in the village." He couldn't leave now and she knew it, not without raising far too many questions they couldn't answer - and she didn't want anyone else getting dragged into this.

Thranduil laughed. "Unlike you, I enjoy physical affection, so that is a terrible threat. I will be honest, Lorna, it has been too long since I have had to deal with this...shite. And I do not relish dealing with it again. But deal with it we must. And, I think what you have suggested will be wise. Come. Let us retrieve your possessions. I must think again like a warrior, and warriors do not sit in driveways chatting in cars when the position of the enemy is not known." He exited the vehicle, turning all of his senses outward, and detected nothing.

Lorna drew a deep breath, getting out herself. Her cottage was still in perfect order; there was no sign anyone but her had been in it last night, and yet she twitched. She couldn't bring herself to look at her bed at all; she just pulled her big suitcase out from under it and threw in almost every piece of clothing she owned. Her laptop went into its bag, but then she paused in the kitchen. If she was going to be away God knew how long, she wanted her kettle, and her tea, and she tossed the damn vitamins in her bag as well.

Quite abruptly, something hot and ugly welled in her chest, and she brutally forced it down. This was neither the time nor the place to give vent to it, even if Thranduil did have that sword. She swallowed, hard, and zipped her case closed. The guitar came next, case slung over her shoulder by a worn strap.

She couldn't resist running her hand along the smooth kitchen table. God damn it, she _would_ be back here. This wouldn't drag on for the rest of eternity. She wouldn't fucking let it.

The last thing she grabbed was her grandda's shotgun. It might be worthless against this fucker, but at the very least she didn't want his disgusting hands on it. Whenever she was able to come home, she was going to have to do a few epic loads of laundry, and possibly fumigate.

Looking at Thranduil, she squared her shoulders and lifted the case. "This is everything I've got room for," she said, and this time she kept her voice steady. "The Americans have got a saying: let's blow this Popsicle stand."

He nodded, trying to appear more cheerful than he felt, for her sake, though it was tearing him apart to be here, to know what had been _done_ here, that she could now never separate from her love of her family home. His hatred for this creature of Morgoth swelled like bile rising from within him, and he forced himself to push it down. In all his days of fighting evil, nothing had ever before felt this _personal_. Momentarily they were in the car, and driving away.

Lorna's driving was slightly less insane on the way back to Lasg'len, but only slightly. Even with Thranduil and that ungodly sword, she still felt...exposed. She wasn't going to feel properly safe until she was within the bounds of the forest again - and not properly relieved until Ratiri was, too.

She drew a deep breath. She was going to be with Earlene and Thanadir again soon, and they'd know how horrified she was - just not the entirety of why. Thranduil might say it was not her shame, but actually accepting that herself wasn't going to happen right off.

She could do this. She had to do this.

When they finally pulled into the cottage driveway, she nearly sagged with relief. "All right," she said - and burst into tears.

Well. This was inconvenient.

Thranduil came around to the driver's side, opened the door, and simply extricated her without words, carrying her to the barn. He sat down and held her, carefully rocking her as he might Allanah. Thanadir had been asked to bring Lorna's belongings inside the cottage. Earlene saw the laptop and silently plugged Lorna's into a charger, reasoning that it would help ensure it was serviceable. Earlene had hers charged as well, having used the time waiting for Thranduil's return to download a few movies. She did not know what these new developments would mean, for spending time at her cottage, or whether the plans they were laying for their new home would grind to a halt. And now was not the time to ask.

Sifting what little she already knew, two very bothersome pieces of information remained floating at the top of her analytical chart. First, this man had come all the way to Nowhere, Ireland and they were now on red alert. Second, Lorna was being brought to stay in the Halls indefinitely. And those two pieces of information distilled down to very few possibilities, and none of them were good at all. She had long cleaned up the flour-y mess she and Thanadir had made, and elected to place their dough into refrigeration, where it would be stable for days. There was a chance it could be retrieved and baked in the Halls, which she would enjoy trying if the kitchen staff would allow it. What was not so easy to manage was Thanadir, standing basically at attention, with a drawn sword in the middle of the living room. His eyes burned with a fey gleam, and for all her closeness to him, she did not dare disturb his watchfulness except to inform him of her intentions when she went to use the lavatory. And even that was on account of the change in his expression, when he seemed to fear she might exit the home without him. She packed up her knitting to bring with her, and passed the time working on her consultations while Allanah slept in her lounger. They helped divert her mind from the palpable tension in the room. It was uncertain, how often she would be able to return. And yet surely something would be managed; they could hardly function by behaving as though they were besieged when the man had not been seen anywhere near here. _Not been seen anywhere near here._ That was an inadvertent third piece of information. _That man had been in Baile; there was no other logical conclusion._

Lorna did her level best to master her tears, swallowing the sobs that tried to break free. She could do this once she was in her room, in the Halls. She wasn't a child, for fuck's sake; she'd kept this kind of shite on the inside almost all her life, so she could damn well do it one more time.

"Do I look like I've been crying?" she asked, looking up at Thranduil. That ugly heat in her chest lingered, burning, but she didn't know how to banish it yet.

"Honestly, yes, but I can help with that. But Lorna, it is so hard for you to cry. It would be best for you to let yourself cry while you can. No one will come here, no one will see you. In the end you will feel better."

He had a point, damn it, and he was one of the few she trusted to have around when she cried. So she gave in, curling into a ball like a child, the burn of her tears painful yet welcome. She couldn't even speak, but then, what would she say? There was nothing _to_ say.

 _You're going to have snot all down your front_ , she managed at last, her breath hitching in her chest. _Sorry_. She was fairly sure that came out. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, she finally looked up at him. "That's as good as it's going to get," she said. "We might as well call Ratiri and get on."

"Wait a moment." There was a supply of clean, folded towels, and the barn had running hot and cold water, for which he mentally praised his wife's foresight. Dampening one in warm water, he returned to her and cleaned her face, and let her blow her nose. "Now hold still," he said, touching his forehead to hers. In a very few moments, the redness in her eyes was gone, as was much of the physical sensation of having sat around sobbing. "That looks better," he smiled, tossing the towel into the bucket for cloths needing laundering with enviable aim, while Buttercup watched unconcernedly as she chewed her cud. They returned together, and entered.

Earlene remained seated, sending only one thing to her husband. _I will help however you tell me I may._ She was otherwise silent, and pretending as though there was not a terrifyingly irate elf standing seven feet from her with a razor-sharp weapon drawn. Her eyes moved only briefly from her computer screen, in an effort to give them as much sense of not being scrutinized as possible.

 _Thank you_ , she heard back, as she continued to read her emails.

The next one was from her lawyer. _Aidan had named her and Allanah his sole heirs? With an amount held in trust of…._ even her eyebrows raised. This was _after_ the quarter million he'd already given. _Christ, I need a financial planner to help the financial planner. But at least you, little girl, will never want for anything. Except, you will, because your Auntie Earlene has the sense to not let you grow up as a spoiled, entitled brat who thinks money grows on trees. You can think it grows on trees after you understand what it is to work and earn it._ Was it wrong, to take some minor glee in the fact that her net worth had been more than his, in the end? She blushed to think of all her recent discussions with Thanadir. Did it make her _better? No, not better_ , she thought. _We each did what we thought was best for us and it wasn't a contest._ Shaking her head, she clicked onto the next one.

Lorna actually felt like she could be around people now, and borrowed Earlene's phone, ringing the Baile surgery. In a surprisingly calm voice she asked to speak to Ratiri, and sighed with relief when she was transferred to him.

"Lorna, what is it?" he asked, obviously concerned - and perhaps understandably, given she'd never rung him at work before.

"Ratiri, allanah, I'm going to be staying in the Halls for a bit," she said, "and it'd be best if you came, too. Tell Doc Barry you're needed in Lasg'len, and bring whatever you can. I'll explain more once you're here - I can't right now."

"Lorna, what happened." It wasn't a question, and she cursed how well he knew her.

"It's a long story," she said. "Now will you come?"

He sighed. "Of course I will. I'm off-shift at six."

Lorna shut her eyes, quite a bit of tension draining from her. "Good. Stay safe. I am, now." He'd need to be reassured, even though he'd already know, given where she was and who she was with.

"I will. I'll see you as soon as I can."

She rang off, and pushed her fringe out of her face. That little cry had helped quite a bit. "We've got company in Ireland we didn't want," she said, figuring Thranduil had already told them, but needing to say it aloud herself.

Earlene looked up, met her eyes, and nodded solemnly. The thing about phones was, you could so often hear both sides of the conversation, especially in a confined space where everything else was still as death. And now she was sure of her convictions. Later, she would tell Lorna she was there to listen when she chose to talk. There was zero else she could do, except perhaps drop the hint that she had quite a lot of ability to figure things out on her own...but this was Lorna, and strategies she might use on others were not always wise with her. Earlene now studied her husband carefully, seeing the strain on his carefully neutral face. His _too_ neutral face. If her first conclusion was correct... _he blames himself_.

Thranduil closed his eyes. This was one time when he wished Earlene was not half computer. He turned to look at her, only to see that she quickly lowered her eyes from his gaze. His wife was not avoiding him; it was her way of showing him her submission. Her abilities, she could not help having. But that she would say nothing about this even to him, unless he initiated the discussion, was clear. He felt her concern, her love and her deep respect for him. It was enough.

"We will leave now," the King said. "Earlene, you will take Allanah and your extra belongings. I would like it if no computers or phones were left here. Earlene, please shut down Orla's device that allows us to access the Internet when we are here. Thanadir, you will take Lorna's large suitcase. Lorna, please take the rest of your personal items." It was only a few seconds' extra work to add the ellyn's laptops in with her own. She elected to simply take the wifi modem with her, guessing at the possible thinking behind his request. In the end she had rather a decent load of items, but she was very strong, and the Halls were no great distance away. Bundling the child in her arms, she led the way out the back door. Thranduil scooped up Tail and closed the door, bringing up the rear. Earlene set a walking pace that was brisk without being too fast. Not looking back once, she spoke the words of opening at the Gates, and made her way to their quarters. She was grateful to put Allanah down when she reached her destination, and remove the satchels and bags from her shoulders. And she did not get thirty seconds' reprieve before the baby fussed with hunger. With a smile of resignation, she freed her breasts and leaned back against the pillows on their bed, cradling the baby against her body.

Her thoughts drifted to the cold, unnatural eyes of that bastard. Something extraordinary must have happened, because she could honestly see Lorna as someone who'd rather die than be...violated. There was too much anger and rage to ever just give in to someone who threatened her. Even someone who'd hit her; it just wouldn't stop _Lorna_. It had to have been much...her eyes widened as she added in yet more memories of what Thranduil had said about him. There was most certainly an additional weapon in such a one's arsenal. She began to cry, she could not help it. It had not happened to her, but when one heard about such things...it was often rather impossible to sort out what felt like a violation against all women. Lorna was her friend, and she saw red. _I would gut him from his throat to his goddamn willie if I but had the means. He would look like a hung pig in the barnyard by the time I got through with his miserable innards, the motherfucking…_

"Meluieg" he said sharply. She'd not heard him come in, and hurried to wipe her face with her sleeve.

"My Lord," she answered. "Forgive my thoughts, please. I am sorry, that…"

He held up his hand. Apologies were not what he wished to hear. He carefully took hold of Allanah, who released her breast, and looked into the little girl's eyes. She wiggled a little, but allowed herself to be laid down in her crib without protest. He crawled up on the bed next to his wife with pain written all over his face, and Earlene opened her arms to him. Reaching down, she did the best she could to bring his legs up over her, holding onto as much of him as she could, pulling him down against her, stroking his fine hair. Trying her hardest, she thought only of how much she loved him, and guided his hand to rest over the bulge in her abdomen. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was everything, but soon a heaving sob broke from him as he held onto her.

 _What could she say, that she was so sorry?_ Of course she was...any decent one, human or elf, would be. The only fix for this situation was revenge or that it never had happened in the first place, and neither of those exactly seemed like options. Those were outside her control. What was in her control was to offer him what comforts she could give. She spoke carefully. "I am your mate. Any comfort I can give, whether it is my spirit, my body, anything at all, it is yours without hesitation. You are my heart, Thranduil. Something bad has happened, but we will all find a way to overcome. We will care for each other through our sorrows and our joys." She held onto him tighter yet, kissing his golden hair.

He did not know how it happened; it was the last thing that was on his mind. A tender kiss on the lips, overwhelming feelings of frustration and pain, and an unexpected arousal of body swept over him. Even as he felt himself dragged to tears, he found himself taking Earlene's body. She guided him, encouraged him, and accepted him as much of his grief and rage were channeled into lust so intense that it made him feel ashamed of himself for being able to feel such desires at a time like this. "Let go, my love," she whispered to him. "I am here for you. Confusion and sorrow and desire drove him onward to a mighty release that caused him to collapse against her. She embraced the weight of his body, and his pain, soothing him with soft kisses against his cheeks while her hands rubbed his back. When he stirred again, she guided him to the bathing room, where he barely seemed communicative. "Promise me you will stay here," to which he mutely nodded. "I will return very soon," she said. Barefoot she ran, past the dungeons and to the cellar, where she quickly found the bottles of Dorwinion wine, tucking two of them under her arms. On her way out, she nearly crashed into a stern-faced Thanadir, who crossed his arms and glared at her.

"They are not for my use, Hîr vuin. If my husband has ever needed wine in his long life, it is right now, and unless you intend to make me your prisoner down here, he is going to have wine." Her vehemence and her explanation were not to be argued with, but he said only one thing.

"Earlene, the seal can be difficult to break on those without spilling, and you should not get the wine on your skin. Would you allow me to help you?"

She nodded, and handed him one of the bottles, which was safer, knowing that he would be behind her. "Earlene," she heard again, and stopped. "This way. It is faster." With a curt nod, she followed at his heels, now seeing the elusive shortcut that she had been certain existed. As they approached the door, she spoke quietly. "Please do not let him know you are here. I cannot explain. Can he...can he drink more than one bottle of this?"

"I have seen him drink three and a half. Once. It was when...it was a time he was very upset. But it was not good, he could not be woken for a day. Two is a very good place to stop."

"Then please open them both for me, but pour me a goblet as soon as you can. He is bathing." The seneschal nodded his head. "And Thandir...thank you. For everything." She managed a weak smile, that he returned. Swiftly he did as she asked, and with a kiss to his cheek, she carefully picked up the goblet he'd poured and walked attentively so she would not spill any. To her relief, he was still in the pool. "Please, drink," she said, holding the goblet in front of him. With a dull expression, he took it from her. "I will be right back once again," she whispered. Exiting one more time, she grabbed the two open bottles and placed them away from danger behind him, and disrobed to join him. He had already emptied the glass, so she reached to refill it. The first bottle was demolished inside of two minutes, leaving her reeling at the obvious discrepancy in their physiology. And he held out the goblet yet again. This time she spoke. "I would ask you to slow down a little bit, beloved." A flare of ire was in his eyes.

"Not for you, but for my sake. Please. This is my first experience, and though I know it does not affect you as it does me, it is difficult for me not to feel frightened at seeing this."

That seemed to give him pause, because he relented, nodding. So she poured him more, and sat with him. The water temperature had been adjusted somehow for the sake of the unborn children, and was kept at her body temperature. Which still felt very pleasant, to her. He did slow in his drinking, and she turned him to knead at his back and shoulders, which she did for a very long time. It was pleasant for her to be in here; it made her feel buoyant and removed the sense of weight from her breasts and abdomen. Soon she felt roving hands, and offered herself again; bracing herself against the sides of the tub while he took her from behind. When he sank back into his seat, he took her in his arms and spoke. "Your kindness has taken some of the edge of my misery away, Earlene, but I still do not know what to do. While I feel some relief in my body, my thoughts are still burdened and my heart is weighed down. I have never faced this before and it is tearing me apart inside."

It was a very deep sigh, for her. She moved to straddle him, so she could face him. "What you do not do is show any of this outside these rooms. You do as you are doing now; you bring these feelings to me. If you are angry, you yell at me. If you feel lust, you take my body. If you feel sorrow, you cry to me. Others look to you for strength and our friends will need that strength. And you are very strong. It does not matter, that right now you do not know exactly what to do. It will come to you. Those who are bad never win in the end, Thranduil. They just do not. They cause heartache and misery. Even Morgoth...he ruined many, many lives, as did his followers. But in the end, they did not prevail and neither will this one. It will not erase what happened, but we will all carry on because we have love, and each other. What do you think that debased thing out there has? Nothing. Nothing at all, because power and corruption are not worth having. That kind becomes greedy. That kind makes mistakes. You are good, my King, and we will all find a way."

The simple faith she had in him was humbling. And though he very badly wanted to find something with which to argue, he could not. He held her tightly. "Thank you, Earlene. Thank you for being here for me."

She kissed him on the forehead, fearful even of the wine on his lips. "It will not harm you," he said, rising from the water, taking a towel and pouring himself more. He dried himself as did she, and donned a robe. "I interrupted your feeding of the baby," he said, chagrined, adding a moment later, "and you received no pleasure from me."

"That is not necessary," she said. "That you feel loved, and supported, that is my concern." His blue eyes appeared much calmer, as he curled up again next to her. Nor was it a great surprise when his hands went wandering, causing her milk to let down so much she wondered how Allanah was not choking on too much food. But as the baby seemed particularly happy, who was she to complain? When he finished giving her enjoyments, she felt drained in a strange haze of physical contentment mixed with difficult emotions. He must have taken the baby from her and laid her down to sleep, because she woke who knows when later, in his arms with her clothing more or less reassembled and a light blanket over both of them. It had been a brief and welcome respite from a day that likely would not end willingly. Realizing from the sound of his steady breathing that he too likely slept, she closed her eyes, hoping to steal just a few more minutes.

Lorna couldn't sit still.

She unpacked all her things, arranging them around her rooms so that she had enough reminders of her human home. Her clothes went in the closet beside those the elves had given her. Her laptop and her phone wouldn't be good for long, unless she could charge them at the cottage, but it wasn't like she could do much with them anyway. She could watch movies, at least. In the coming days, she was entirely certain she was going to need plenty of distractions.

Christ, she wanted a drink. She wanted a whole row of drinks, because there was something she had to do, and it would be a fuck of a lot easier with chemical assistance. That she couldn't have it sucked way more than it ought to.

Out she went, wandering, exploring. Thranduil was taking this harder than she was, and Thranduil could read her mind. If she was calm - if could contain this, lock it in a little box and put it away far at the back of her mind, where she could deal with when it was safe to do so - it would help him as well as her.

The question was, how did she do that?

Her feet carried her to the forge without her conscious will, and she went to stand in a patch of the sunshine let down in bright spears through the roof. _You've been hurt before_ , she told herself, _and you've survived._ There had been her ribs, and the cut on her chest, and the knife in her foot, and too many blows to count from her da. There had been fights that had left her bruised to hell. These things had happened, and they were things she _remembered_. They had happened, and she had not broken, and God fucking _damn_ if she would now. She might not be able to kill that son of a bitch - and oh, did that gall her - but that didn't mean she had to let him win.

So she took that pain, that rage, and carefully placed it in a box, wrapping it up like some kind of dark, malignant present. It fought her, trying to slither out as soon as she'd got it in, but she was Lorna fucking Donovan, and nobody ever won against her.

She needed, she thought, as she tilted her face up to the warmth, to figure out why the fuck this was worse than all the others. She didn't remember it. It was an abstract; yeah, she'd been a tidbit sore where she shouldn't have been, but that was it. There were no bruises, no injuries, no other pain of any kind. There was not, she told herself, any reason to cry over this, no reason to want to smash the entire world. And if she said that often enough, she might just believe it.

Shutting her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose, drawing a deep, steadying breath. She hadn't actually eaten anything this morning, and she knew where the kitchens were. Hopefully the staff would let her cadge some food, if she could somehow convey that she was hungry. If nothing else, the rumble of her stomach ought to accomplish that.

Her eyes burned, her chest burned, and again she drew deep breaths, even and calming, doing her best to emulate what Ratiri had taught her. She wasn't going to think about how she was going to tell him this, about how she could possibly break this to him in a way that wouldn't shatter something in him. How he was to sustain himself through this, Lorna didn't know; he didn't have her rage, her quiet, icy, depthless wrath that lurked deep within her mind, still for now, waiting.

 _Food_ , she told herself, and headed off in search of the kitchens. Unfortunately, she had only actually been to the kitchens once, and after fifteen minutes of meandering, she had to accept that she was lost.

Well, _fuck._

Thalion carefully hung his sword and light armor on their customary pegs before leaving the guard room, having returned from his assigned daily patrol of the forest perimeter, and was about to return to his quarters when his sensitive ears thought they caught the sounds of footfalls. Silently investigating, he followed the sounds until he came up behind... _what in Eru's name?_ They had no elflings among them. From the shape of the body, the being was female and...one so small could not possibly be a threat, so perhaps accosting her was not needed. Unsure what else to do, he cleared his throat loudly.

Lorna jumped, swearing, heart lurching - but when she turned, she found an elf, and an unfamiliar one. She only seen any besides Thranduil and Thanadir very briefly. "Mae govannen," she managed, hoping her accent wouldn't totally mangle that. "You scared the shite out'v me," she added in English, because she had absolutely no idea how to say any of it in Sindarin. "I'm lost. I feel like an eejit, but I'm lost, and I'm hungry."

Thalion regarded her. He'd somehow understood her greeting, though the pronunciation was very bad. "Mae govannen," he returned, placing his hand over his heart in greeting. "Im Thalion eston. A len?" (I am called Thalion. And you?) He spoke slowly, realizing that she was not well-versed in their tongue.

"Im Lorna eston. Lost," Lorna repeated. "I'm lost," pointing at herself.

Thalion frowned at her deeply. This had to be among Aran Thranduil's firith; he had heard there were three mortals that came here, though he had not seen them before. Was this Aran Thranduil's queen? And she called herself Lorna Empty? That was an extremely peculiar name, but it was not his place to judge. "Tolo," he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

"Thanks," she said, and wished like hell she knew the words for 'kitchen' or 'hungry'. "Can you take me to the kitchen?" she asked. "I'm starving." She went to mime the action of eating, but her stomach chose that moment to growl quite audibly, rendering it moot. Lovely. Well, if she could keep her shit together around this stranger elf, she could certainly try to do it around people she actually knew, and who knew her. "Yeah," she sighed. "What it said."

Thalion stopped and looked at her again. "Ni saig?" he asked (are you hungry?). When she did not respond, he mimed the gestures of eating and chewing, with a look of query on his face, pointing at her. When she smiled and nodded, he grinned. "Tolo," he said again, and now took a different turn in the passageways to set out for the kitchens. Once there, he spoke rapidly to Glân, who nodded sympathetically, having seen her before. She chattered back something unintelligible to Thalion, who nodded and departed. Smiling, the elleth served up a bowl of soup, some rolls and butter, placing these swiftly on a tray and telling Lorna "tolo," who had by now inadvertently added that word to her vocabulary as well. She was shown around a corner to a place where there were a few tables at which to eat, with both chairs and stools for sitting. "Mado, a hi daro" (eat, and wait here) she said kindly, gesturing at the food to Lorna.

"Thank you," Lorna said, hoping that would cross the language barrier. Predictably, all of it was delicious, because everything produced by the elves was, but she managed to keep her manners _and_ her shit together while she ate. If she was going to be staying in here God knew how long, she had to get serious about learning Sindarin - a few words and phrases weren't going to be enough, not if she wanted to communicate with any elves who weren't Thranduil and Thanadir.

The food heartened her quite a bit, calming the storm of her thoughts. "It's delicious," said, again hoping her tone and her smile would convey what she didn't know how to say in Sindarin. She still wished she could have wine, but that wish was dulled a bit now.

The elleth returned to her duties, but not many minutes after, Thanadir appeared. "Hello again, Lorna," he said kindly, sitting next to her. "I hear that you met Thalion."

"Hi," she said. "I did. I'd got lost, and he found me before I could get even more lost, and these wonderful people gave me food. I hadn't eaten this morning, so Christ did I need it." She looked at him, searching his face, wondering what he had or hadn't guessed. Thanadir was much harder for her to read than Thranduil was; he had impenetrable serenity down to an art form, no doubt crafted over the years by his job. (And she still wasn't sure just what his job was, aside from 'everything Thranduil tells me to do'. Maybe that was the entirety of it.)

"We will begin helping you more with the language, Earlene and I," he chuckled. "I know that this day has been less than wonderful, but perhaps this will lighten your heart a little. Thalion came to me to inform me that he had found Lorna Empty and taken her to the kitchens, before asking me if that was an ordinary name for a mortal. He told me you pointed to yourself and said 'lost'. That is our word for 'empty.' I confess that I laughed," he said, mirth playing around his eyes and face."

Lorna stared at him, and in spite of everything, she burst out laughing. "Wait, your word for 'empty' is the English word for 'lost'? That's as bizarre as your word meaning 'feet' being 'tail'. No wonder he looked at me like I was mental." Not so very long ago, she'd thought it might be years before she could truly laugh at anything, but that sheer level of absurdity demanded it. "I can't promise I'll ever be able to pronounce your language, but I'll certainly try. Reading your alphabet might be another story entirely." Even without the dyslexia, so many of those damn letters looked almost identical, and forget writing them. Her handwriting with the Roman and Cyrillic alphabets was bad enough, and you didn't need a damn calligraphy pen to handle them.

She sobered a bit, wondering if Ratiri was all right. She wasn't going to be able to truly rest easily until he was safe in the Halls, too. Food hadn't done anything to calm her jittery energy, but in her condition she couldn't exactly spar...but there _was_ something else she could do. "Hey Thanadir, could you take me to the training room? I can't mess about with swords just now, but I'd love to practice throwing knives. I know how to do it, but I'm total pants at it - my aim's awful, and always has been."

"Of course," he said. Once she'd finished her food (and neatly stacked her dishes, because old habits died hard) he did just that.

The weight of the knives, however slight, calmed Lorna. Her mind didn't quiet, simply because it was never quiet, but she was strangely soothed. Shifting her grip, she eyed the target, and couldn't help but imagine von Ratched's face on it.

Rage took her then, but it was not like the fury she'd felt before Thranduil and Thanadir fixed her brain. This was icy, controlled, implacable as a glacier, seeping through her veins rather than surging. She hurled the knife as hard as she could, and though it didn't strike where Von Ratched's head would be, it _did_ hit him in his theoretical chest, burying itself to the hilt.

"You are better that I would have expected, and you will be better still soon. You must understand that as with swords or archery, the precise placement of your stance is important to accuracy. I will show you what to do, soon, and then we will have you practice more."

"Thank you," Lorna said, and meant it wholeheartedly.

Try though she did, Earlene could not go back to sleep and rose carefully so as to not disturb her husband. She shook her head at the volume of wine that had gone into his body, walking silently to the bathing room. Apparently he'd managed to do in both bottles; which she removed to the sideboard for Thanadir to do as he would with them. Walking back, she saw something new, a sword. _Where had that come from?_ She walked toward it, reaching out, and then hesitated. This belonged to the King, and she did not have specific permission to handle it or touch it; it was not hers. Curious, but deferring to what she saw as her duty and her place, she left it alone and did nothing but look at it. There was something about it, even in the scabbard, that...disturbed. She backed away from the blade and felt it less...and approached it and felt it more, placing her fingers on her necklace.

It had already been made plain to her that powerful...artifacts...existed for them, and perhaps this was another. Tilting her head, it did not take all her powers of logic to deduce a possible reason for its sudden appearance. Her heart filled with pride at him. If he had procured this, he did not intend to do nothing, he had already done _something_. He intended to defend them, and once again, the thought of it humbled her. The truth was, she would be a blip in his long life. Hopefully it would be a happy blip, but there was nothing she could do to change the inevitable. And that he would risk that existence to care for them...she shook her head. Were their positions reversed, she would not hesitate to do the same; she loved him.

Breaking out of her reverie, she sucked in her air in surprise to see that Thranduil was awake and watching her intently; he had not moved. "You startled me," she said, though it need not have been spoken.

"I owe you an apology," he replied. "I made a grave error, by leaving that sword here without explanation. One which could have cost both of us dearly. And yet you observe, and reason, and analyze, and more often than not reach essential conclusions without me. I am...gratified, Earlene, both by your determination to obey me and your sheer intelligence. Many others would have committed a fatal error in your place."

"Thank you," she said. "But it seems hard to take credit; this is what I did with my life, my Lord. You mean to tell me then, that the sword is dangerous, and that I am not imagining what I sense from it?"

He nodded. "That is Anguirel. We read of it, though it was not something spoken of much."

"Eöl's blade, of…" she had to strain to remember…"galvorn? Really?" Her eyes turned back to it, astonished. Such a piece of history, here, in front of her? "Could I see it? I do not ask to handle it, and you have my word I will not go near it with or without you being here."

Thranduil nodded, and fully unsheathed it, and Earlene gazed on the blade in awe, drawn in and repulsed all at the same time. _There were whispers…_ "Please sheathe it. What _is_ that? What is wrong with that thing?" she asked, horrified.

"It is dark, as was its maker, meluieg. I would prefer never to have brought it forth, but as we are up against something extraordinary…." he shrugged. "That man will not know that this blade survived the ages, if he ever knew of it at all. And I am rather counting on that. If he is to be defeated, I would dearly love to know that he can never return in a manner to harm others again."

Earlene regarded him, a cold gleam coming into her eye. "I do not believe it could happen to a nicer person," she quipped with gallows humor. "It would be an elegant justice. I should like to know its story, but perhaps later. At the moment I am, as Lorna might say, 'creeped out.'"

Ratiri had no idea in hell what to make of Lorna's odd phone call, but he'd never heard her sound so strained. Lorna could sometimes be difficult to read, but not for him, not anymore. _Something_ had happened, and it had been all he could do to finish out his workday. He fed Indira an excuse about Lasg'len - a highly unseasonable flu outbreak that would likely keep him busy for a while. Packing his clothes and books, he drove to the village with dread in his heart.

What could have caused her to ask this of him? It had to be pure desperation, and he didn't want to imagine what might have precipitated it. What could be of any threat to him?

Jittery, he sped along the motorway, and kept speeding even once he'd reached the minor roads. Lasg'len ignored him as he drove through it, pulling up Earlene's driveway.

Nobody was in the cottage, which struck him as odd, and strangely sinister, though he could not have said why.

Feeling a bit of a dolt, he thought, _Lorna sent for me. I'm at the cottage._

 _You remember the path we took to the Halls. Do not remain at the cottage. Walk into the woods on that path, and Thanadir will meet you very shortly. Lorna is safe, Ratiri, but we all face a difficulty now. We will speak when you arrive._

True to what was said, Thanadir arrived very quickly, silently running down the path...with a longsword strapped to his belt. This could not be good.

"How bad is it?" he asked, knowing it would do no good to ask more. He hefted the luggage he had brought out of the Bronco, eying the sword. What in God's name-? No. He'd ask when they were all together, and hope the answer wasn't as dreadful as he feared.

"It would be best for me to leave that answer to my King. I guess at many things but what I know is limited. The only thing I can tell you with certainty is that the balrog has followed us to Ireland, and on account of that, there is danger."

Ratiri felt the blood drain from his face, dread dropping a ball of ice into his stomach. No wonder Lorna had sounded so strained - but _how_? Oh, the why of it was easy enough; Thranduil was probably the most fascinating thing he'd run across in millennia. "Now I'm not certain I want to know more," he said, and perhaps he could be forgiven the slightest twinge of unsteadiness in his voice. He wasn't completely mental.

"Me either," admitted Thanadir. "And yet duty requires that I do." He sighed, and turned, taking Ratiri's heavier bag for him. "I hope you do not mind, it is far easier for me to carry this than for you. Come." He led the way back, with little conversation, quickly depositing the belongings just inside the door of Ratiri's quarters before continuing on to the King's. Lorna had apparently already joined them there. In her best attempt to bridge long minutes of utter awkwardness, Earlene brought out her laptop, and without saying a word to Lorna about the real reason they were all here, showed her the many photos she'd collected on Pinterest that could possibly provide ideas for their new home. She hoped it would both distract and not prove terribly demanding mentally.

"I thought I did not want garish colors until I saw all the stained glass. Some of those walls are so beautiful," she sighed. She sat with notepaper, trying to draw loose sketches of ideas, also not wishing to appear as though Lorna was any kind of object of scrutiny. _If it had happened to me, what would I want right now?_ And the only two answers that came back were, _Thranduil, and to gut the bastard like a pig, give or take drawing and quartering. Vivisection? Castration?_

"Meluieg," said Thranduil sharply. The pained look on his face told her that this was not the right time, but this time she met his eyes with far more fire in them. _I will try to do as you ask out of love for you, but I too have thoughts and feelings on this. I am a woman. There are things about being a woman you will never fully understand. With respect, Thranduil._

An unfathomable expression met her eyes. He looked away, before looking back again and nodding. "Thranduil does not care for so many colors," she said aloud, doubting that she was fooling Lorna, but circumstances called for making the attempt.

It _didn't_ fool Lorna, and for a moment that odd, icy rage crept forward, insidious as fog - not at either of them, but at the entire situation. Her nails dug into her palms, and she drew a slow breath. None of this would be necessary if she'd bloody stayed here last night, rather than insisting on going back to her cottage. She could just as easily have crashed in her room here; God knew she'd been sleepy enough. "Is there any way at all I can get at least half-drunk?" she asked. "Even a bit." What she really, _really_ wanted was some weed, but she didn't have any of that, so it wouldn't be an option even if she wasn't up the yard.

Thranduil looked at her helplessly. "If you are half-drunk, so are your children," he said sadly. "I cannot protect them from more than a little and your tolerance, for a mortal, is very high. I can dampen your feelings, or cause you to sleep. I can erase your memories, and alter them. But I would be loath to do so, and you would have to be very, very certain of your wishes."

For a moment, just a moment, she felt a stab of utter loathing for the two beings currently residing within her. If not for them, she could get drunk. Really, really, wonderfully drunk, but she couldn't do _anything_ right now because of them. In that moment, she didn't care if they got drunk - she didn't care what at all it might do to them.

But the moment passed, as swiftly as it had come, and that chill fog enveloped her again. Thanadir and Ratiri would be here sooner or later, and she would be in a room with too many people, people who would look at her like she was some _victim_ , something to be _pitied_ -

Her nails dug into her palms again, this time deep enough to draw blood. _No._ She could be cold and still and immovable as the foundation of the Earth. _Teach us to care, and not to care_ , she thought - a line she'd read in a book, though she didn't remember when, or where. _Teach us to be still._ "No," she said. "I…" She shook her head. _This is mine, and I will own it._

Thranduil stared at her, both angry and sad. She was not trying to push him and the others away; she could not see what he saw. _It is not yours alone to own, my tiny friend. It is ours. But I will not add to your burdens now by arguing with you just now, though you are making it very hard_ , he thought to himself alone. He could not blame her for wishing to be drunk, not in the slightest. Not when he'd mowed through his own wine just to feel some moments of peace. _I am beginning to understand why the mortals curse as they do. I really am._..he moved to sit next to Earlene. He was not in the least interested in thinking about this home just now, but even he had to admit that many of the ideas were lovely...if only he could remotely care about this right now. And he could not.

 _Still_ , she thought, though it was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to throw knives again, but she couldn't right now. She wanted to do something that made her feel strong, something aside from the frigid mist of her anger….

"You have that look again," she said to Thranduil. "Stop looking like that. Otherwise I'll make you." If a hug didn't work, she'd give him a damn wet willie. _That_ could snap just about anyone out of just about anything.

"You would have that look too, if you were viewing photographs of bathrooms that look like a box of crayons sicked up," he growled at her, refusing to engage on this. They'd had their moment of emotional honesty earlier, and he genuinely was trying not to place his burdens on her.

Earlene glared at him, rather liking those bathroom photos. Not that she wanted one, but it had its own kind of beauty. And weren't they all just playing along here anyway, waiting to trot the elephant into the room? _Sure god I wish Ratiri would show up_ , she thought, now opening pictures of a room lit by blue glass windows. There was not long to wait, because the customary two knocks fell on the door, followed by the remainder of their little family.

And back came the ice, containing Lorna's dread, the fear of what Ratiri would think. All she could do was hop to her feet and hug him, unable to actually speak. He was here, and he was safe, and relief uncoiled through her. Her biggest fear was no more.

His arms came around her automatically, but he looked from the top of her head to Thranduil. "Thanadir said the balrog found you," he said, wishing there was some way he couldn't believe it, but there was no way the Elves could be wrong about such a thing.

"Yes, said Thranduil. "The man from New York. Who I had very much hoped would remain there," he said, his sea-blue eyes revealing no emotion.

"I suppose asking what he wants is a stupid question," Ratiri sighed. A balrog could want very few things: either to destroy them, to harry them, or possibly to force them to expose themselves to the outside world.

"It is not a stupid question. The precise answer is unknown, but none of your notions would be outside of the realm of likelihood. He has already made it clear that he means us harm." His eyes bored into Lorna's, awaiting her decision as to who learned what, and how.

Lorna shut her eyes, but opened them a moment later, meeting his gaze. This might be harder for him than for her. _Tell them, Thranduil_ , she said. _Let's just get this over with._

"I will try to do as I did earlier, when I discovered what had happened and told Lorna, at her insistence. Please do not confuse the lack of emotion in my voice to mean that I have none; it is the only means by which I can speak of this." He looked down at the carpet, trying to remember when any single day had felt this difficult, and with very few exceptions, could not. Raising his eyes to Ratiri, he continued. "This...Von Ratched went to Baile to find Lorna. When there, he used the same mental powers I possess to violate her, and ensure that she took pleasure in what was done. Her children are not harmed. Her memory of the event was erased, and she was left with slight physical signs only of what had occurred. Just enough to ensure that it would come to my attention, because the act was intended in a small way to gratify a perverse desire, and in a large way to strike at me through one who was defenseless against his abilities. Lorna asked to be told what I discovered, and I did so. I armed myself, and we went to Baile to retrieve her belongings. She has agreed to remain here; it is the only place I can protect you with absolute conviction. And here we all are, but there is a little more." He sighed, and retrieved his blade. "Ratiri, this is Anguriel. Perhaps you too recall the name?"

Oh Christ, he hadn't told her she'd _enjoyed_...Jesus, did that mean he'd actually _seen_ …?

Lorna ran for the loo, kicking the door shut behind her, and just barely made it in time to throw up everything she'd eaten. She had a sudden, very violent urge to jump into that tub, clothes and all - so violent that she did just that, scarcely having the wherewithal to kick her sandals off first.

Ratiri's horror swiftly gave way to panic. "Lorna? Lorna, let me in. Please, _please_ let me in." The door wasn't locked, so far as he knew, but he wasn't going to go barging in there without her consent. "Can you kill him?" he asked Thranduil, looking at him. "I know that sword, and I know who made it. Can you-?"

"I would do everything in my power to defend against him," the King said. "But neither will I seek him out beyond my borders. And I think you know that in a fight, there is no such thing as a guaranteed outcome. He does not know that Anguriel exists any longer in the world, and against him it is a mighty asset. But I think this can be discussed in more depth once far more important concerns are cared for," he said, indicating the door to the bathing chamber with a nod. Very softly, he said, "Thanadir, Lorna will need dry clothes. This once, no dresses, please."

The seneschal nodded and left immediately.

Ratiri shut his eyes. He did not know just what Lorna needed - she was too complex a creature for him to predict, and he did not want to get anything wrong. She prided herself on her strength, and that had been taken from her in the worst possible way, by a man… "Earlene," he said, "it might be best if you see how she is. She may not want a man with her right now. Not even me." _Not even him_ , for all it cracked his heart.

Lorna was oblivious to all of it, too busy scouring at her hair, her skin, flinging various bits of sodden clothing off the side of the pool and scrubbing herself raw, trying desperately to get _clean._ She hadn't known - if Thranduil had actually _seen_ that, she might just die.

Earlene looked at Ratiri, and her first internal thought was, _You have to be fucking kidding me. She's *your* lover and you want *me* to go in there?_ But then as always the calculator went into motion, and the wheels clicked. With an unfathomable expression, she rose and stormed into the bathroom. She was being asked to do something outright dangerous, and this was a calculated risk. Outside, Thranduil's eyes widened as he realized what she intended to do, and he froze. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Zero. Nothing. The two women he loved most in all the world were in the next room, and this was quite possibly about to make a battle between an ent and a troll pale by comparison.

The door shut behind Earlene, who studied Lorna for a moment. She was partially disrobed, scrubbing at herself self-destructively, and there were greater than 95% odds that she had no awareness of Earlene at all. The first part alone was astonishing; this was Lorna. "Stop it!" she bellowed at her sharply, in a tone and at a volume that would have broken through many a state of mind. Nothing. And now Earlene became angry. Off came all the clothes except her underpants. Like a cannonball she bombed into the middle of the pool to face her. "Stop it!" she hollered again. Nothing. _Jesus fucking Christ_ , she thought. Rising up to her full height like an impression of Morrigan herself come to the battlefield, with eyes blazing, she slapped Lorna across the face as hard as she could, yelling again, "I SAID STOP IT!" And she was counting, very much counting, on the density of the water to slow a retaliatory kick that could harm her children.

Lorna didn't kick, but neither was her retaliatory punch calculated. It just sort of...happened, her mind still too lost in its own fog of horror to fully comprehend what she was doing. A little awareness came back to her, though, and she stared at Earlene in total horror. Jesus fucking Christ, she'd - "Earlene…" What the actual _fuck_? She was only vaguely aware that her left cheek was stinging, but she was _very_ aware of the fact that Earlene's lip was bloody. "Jesus, why- _why are you in here?!_ " Even if Earlene didn't know just how dangerous it was to be around her now, Thranduil had to. "Are you insane?" Even now, even without going blank… "I could've broken your damn neck, Earlene. You shouldn't _be_ here. _Nobody_ should be here, not…" How was she to get this off of her, this poison, if someone was trying to stop her? Christ, she'd… "I didn't know all'v it," she said, the ire leaving her voice, replaced by weariness. "I didn't know the bastard'd made me...I didn't know that. And I didn't know Thranduil had actually _seen_ it."

Earlene simply stared at her. Calculating. And wiping her lip. "Good aim," she said, before continuing. "I'm _in_ here to break up your goddamn pity party, Lorna. Did you think that lot out there was going to manage it?" She sighed. "Look. What you're doing isn't going to help. If it was, I'd have turned around and walked back out. This isn't _you_. And you weren't going to break my neck. I don't know everything about you, and you don't know everything about me, either.

OK, first thing. Everyone out there loves you to pieces, and apparently so do I, for being here. You don't need a delivery truck of 'oooh poor Lorna,' and none of them out there are going to give it to you. And second thing...it was never about sex, Lorna. It was about power. Him taking yours away, and him taking Thranduil's away. One very educated guess as to why my husband didn't tell you earlier? He was in shock himself and it didn't occur to him because he doesn't care about sex. He doesn't care what you felt or liked or experienced in your body. It's sex. He cares very much, that his cherished friend got used as a pawn in the sickest possible kind of game. And if he's being fully honest with you now, it's because you have to know. There is no depth to which people like that piece of shit will not sink. None whatsoever. If my husband didn't tell you, I could see that fucker finding some way to trot it out later, just to wreck your trust in Thranduil.

"This isn't just you, this is all of us. He'd have done it to me just as easily, if he'd had the chance. And either way, the game is afoot. And that all doesn't help you and how you are feeling one goddamn bit. Get it out there, Lorna. Talk about how you feel, and for once in your life, quit worrying first about everyone else. I can tell you how _I_ feel. I want to gut the fucker from his langer to his tongue, and pull it all out slowly in little pieces. He's not going to make me feel goddamn afraid because I'm not going to let him win. And I don't think you are either. I just think that in the shock of all of this, you've lost your grasp on that. And now I'll shut it for a bit." She did indeed stop talking, but the fire did not leave her eyes.

"The thought'v him _seeing_ that...I can't not be horrified by that, Earlene. I haven't got it in me," Lorna said. "And the worst is that I can't kill that bastard. I was throwing knives earlier, pretending he was the target, but I'll not have my own revenge." Her tone took on something akin to a snarl. "Christ, do I want my revenge. I'm bloody violated and Thranduil keeps looking like someone kicked him in the gut half the time because he somehow thinks this is his fault. He's worse off than I am, and Ratiri…" Jesus. Ratiri was good and kind and likely totally unsure what to do. "I know he won't pity me. I know that. But knowing something doesn't mean you believe it." She shook her head. "Christ I want a drink. I want a drink and new skin, and I can't have either. Though there's one thing I wish I did remember," she said, meeting Earlene's eyes for the briefest of moments. "Apparently I shot the fucker. Didn't do any _good_ , but at least I tried."

"Well that was a little something" she said, nodding approvingly. "Okay what we have going on here is a confusion of the issues. And I'm about to go on like a pompous arse but I'm doing it because down to my soul, I think you need to hear this. If it gets too much, you can smack me again, just try and hit a fresh spot," she grinned. "First. You _can too_ not be horrified by it. You make up your mind not to, and that's how that happens. The human mind is an amazing thing. You didn't believe in elves, until you did. And yes I'm making something that sounds very hard seem very simple, but being horrified is your choice Lorna, not something that has to be. That blond elf out there has tons of sex, I would know. He does. not. care. He also eats, sleeps, and uses the loo. We all have bodies, and they do things. You've nothing to feel ashamed of. That's it. That's _all_ there is. And if there's more, it's because _you're choosing to keep it there."_ She waited a moment, determined to give her words a few seconds to sink in before moving to the next soapbox.

"Second. You don't know for a fact that you won't have a shot at that man. None of us knows how this will play out. Anything else is speculation. And Third. You've known Thranduil long enough to know how he sees the King Thing. You're not going to change that about him. In a manner of speaking, he's not wrong. Had that twat not seen us with elves, he'd sure not have bothered to come here on our account. Thranduil will get himself past the guilt, blame, and responsibility bit. I've told you before, he is very strong." Earlene tilted her head. "Do you understand that elves cannot be raped, and that's part of why this is so hard for him? They die, rather than have that happen. We don't have that luxury. And I'd be willing to bet quite a lot that this Von Ratched knew that, and figured this out just because it was the ultimate nose-rub-in-the-shite, to an elf."

In spite of absolutely everything, Lorna couldn't help but make a face at the mention of Thranduil and sex in the same sentence. That was never not going to squick her, because she was too close in too fraternal a way to think of him as a sexual being without twitching a bit. "I didn't need to hear that," she said, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

"Lorna, I'm sorry, but you actually _DO_ need to hear that. Just like people in the store need to know meat comes from dead animals, and kids need to understand storks don't deliver babies. Thranduil is a living, married elf and that part of his life is just as normal and natural as breathing. You're not twelve. Adults have sex. It's _life."_

She hadn't actually broken out the shampoo, but she did now, working at it much more calmly now. "I didn't know that. Jesus. They _die_?" Just...why? Elves were stronger and tougher than humans, and unless they were killed by violence, they lived forever, but _rape_ killed them?

Earlene caught the look on her face. "No. Not like that. Elves are granted the gift to have their spirits depart their bodies and flee to Mandos rather than endure violation in that way. It is a choice, and apparently one that was utilized at almost every known opportunity."

That...okay, _that_ was horrifying, and yet how many humans would kill to have that ability? Lorna wouldn't - she was sickened, and she was pissed, but she didn't want to be dead. "Earlene, I realize the pair'v you have got a happy, fulfilling sex life, but Thranduil reminds me so much'v my older brother, and would _you_ want to think about your brother having sex, even if he hadn't been, y'know, _him_? It's like thinking about your parents having it off. I'm glad for you and all, but I'd rather not think'v it." She rinsed the shampoo as best she could, still tempted to scrub, but she'd forebear for now. "You tell me not to try to think'v everyone else, with this, but I'm a worrier, Earlene. I don't know how to shut that off. Thranduil feels like shite, Ratiri no doubt wants to help but's afraid to do the wrong thing…" She sighed. "And to be perfectly honest, worrying about them makes me feel better. If I'm looking after someone else, I'm stronger. If I've got people blaming themselves and...and...well, _anything_ , I'm powerless. So the pair'v them had best get used to it. I'd force-feed you healthy food if you weren't already eating better than I could ever manage."

Earlene chuckled. "I get it about the sex. I do. Sadly, with Aidan, it was something we all had to imagine rather a lot, because it was Aidan. And while I did not wish to spend hours contemplating what he did and how he did it, I certainly accepted it. Just like with mam and da...we were open and practical about such things at home. No one went on and on talking about it, but neither did anyone pretend it didn't happen. And I'll not rub your nose in it _if_ you'll quit using it as something to feel horrified and ashamed over for no goddamn reason. I'm dead serious about that, Lorna, and you've no idea just how much more I could choose to say. So that part's up to you. You can worry too, _if_ you don't use that as a justification to wall yourself off from those who care about you. If you have the right to worry and care to regain feeling a sense of power, so do they. All we've got is each other, in this. It's about having balance. I'm not an idiot, I know there are times when all this is going to hit you like a brick. But you're _Lorna_. I really sort of expect you to go down to the practice rooms and stab something, rather than try to scrub your own skin off. Anything else is just against the laws of the damn universe."

Lorna absolutely could not help the face she made, but she masked it by holding her nose and ducking under the water, rinsing out the last of the shampoo. "You sound so bloody much like Mairead," she sighed, when she surfaced. "And sounding like Mairead isn't always a bad thing." She paused. "I needed a bath anyway. Hadn't had one today. This wasn't _totally_ pointless." Except now she was scrubbed half-raw and had no dry clothes. Great. Unable to help it, she burst out laughing. "Someone, somewhere, would pay one hell'v a lot to see this turn into a porno," she said, wiping at her face.

"Yeah, they would", Earlene said, rising out of the water with no concern. "I'll wager I could get a six month supply of cupcakes out of Siobhan, just based on the tits alone." She calmly walked to retrieve a towel. "And if you've not figured it out by now, I could care less who sees 'the girls' at this point. You and I both are going to be milk cows before all this is over with. And to think the first time I came here, I almost lost it at Thanadir taking my measurements. How things change," she sighed, wrapping a towel around her body before taking another for her hair. "There'll be clothes out there for you, because there will be", she said, climbing back into her dress before shucking off her soaked underpants. Like as not she'd traumatized Lorna enough today, there was probably no need to add a view of her lady bits to the parade. "I'll toss in your clothes for you," she smiled. "And Lorna...Ratiri needs you. And you need him. For god's sake give that man some reassurance. There's nothing worse for a bloke than not knowing what to do, and he doesn't. Let Thranduil know when you are dressed; he will fix up your skin, before you leave here." With a smile that spoke of success in battle more than anything else, she exited the room, trying to wipe her face into neutrality as she did so. Not to mention, hide her swollen lip. There was no need to relate anything; Thranduil had heard it all. Gracefully accepting the bundle Thanadir offered, she left it just inside the door for Lorna before retreating to their room for a moment. That was all the time needed for Thranduil to come and repair her injured lip. If his methodology for healing her was slightly unusual as a reward for what she had done in that room, he thought it fitting. Earlene reeled back, in a pleasant haze and blushing from the long kiss she received.

Lorna hauled herself out of the tub and found a towel, and winced when she went to use it - Jesus she'd done a number on herself. Her skin was angry and red all over, but at least she felt _clean_. Whatever invisible toxin that fucker had left her with was definitely gone.

Mercifully, whoever had got her clean clothes had brought one of her flannel tunics and some leggings, though she winced again when she put them on, wrapping her hair in a towel. Drawing a deep breath, she stuck her head out the door. "Thranduil, I need a bit'v help." _And do you mind if I borrow your comb?_ she added. She had zero idea what she could tell Ratiri, but he enjoyed combing her hair, and she enjoyed having him do it, and it needed to be done, so perfect.

To his credit, Thranduil banished every trace of worry and anxiety from his face before he entered. And though it tore his heart to see her skin, outwardly he smirked. "You like to make certain I am not bored. This much is apparent," he said matter-of-factly. In moments, her abrasions were repaired. Before he departed, he handed her a comb. _You wish me to send Ratiri in?_ His blue eyes gazed on her serenely.

"Please," she said, but grab-hugged him before he could go. "Your life would be so boring without me," she added, squeezing his ribs before releasing him.

His face lit up with a smile at the unexpected affection, for which he was truly grateful. _You have no idea how right you are, Lorna._

 _Good_ , she said, the sight of that smile a relief. _Keep that expression. Otherwise you will get attack-hugged when you're least expecting it._

"All yours," he said aloud cheerfully to Ratiri, who looked rather like the last one waiting to...well, _something_ unpleasant.

Ratiri really didn't know what he was going to find, but both Earlene and Thranduil looked...well, not terrible. He went into the bathroom to find Lorna, dressed, dry, in one piece, and no longer looking like she either wanted to die or murder someone. All of these things loosened a bit of the tension in his chest.

"I'll not drop dead, allanah," she said, squeezing the water out of her hair.

"Of course you won't," he said, carding his fingers through the top of her hair. "You're like a cockroach. You'd survive a nuclear blast."

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek, but didn't manage to fully contain her laughter. It was weird and sweet and entirely _Ratiri_. "C'mon, come use that thing," she said, leading him over to a bench and tossing her hair behind her.

He was so tall that he took one of the folded-up towels and used it as a cushion to sit on the floor behind her. She'd shown him months ago how to properly comb hair as long as hers - brief, light teasing at the snarls at the very ends, working his way carefully upward, from one side of her hair to the other. It was so soft against his fingers, silky and smooth, the silver that threaded the darkness glinting in the lamplight.

Lorna shut her eyes, relaxing as best she could. There was always something very soothing about Ratiri's touch - yeah, he was a doctor, but it had to be more than just that. There was a gentleness to him she'd rarely seen, but that didn't mean he lacked strength. Quite the opposite; he'd carried her furniture about with surprising ease, when they'd been renovating her cottage. He was sweet and odd and more of a nerd than most knew, wrapped up in a form that belonged in a magazine. And she still had him - no matter what, she knew she would always have him. She only wished she had telepathy, so she could convey everything she couldn't say out loud.

"Stay in here with me, allanah," she said. "In the Halls. I'd lose my mind if you went out where he could get you."

"Trust me," he said, the comb now at shoulder-height, "I have no intention of leaving. There's nothing out there that would be enough to draw me."

Lorna smiled, though he couldn't see her. This was going to suck, of that she had no doubt, but they were safe. That bastard wouldn't get him, or her.

But that didn't mean she didn't want her shot. It didn't mean she wasn't going to start carrying some throwing-knives. Maybe anything she did would be as inconsequential as a mosquito bite, but god dammit, she was going to get that bite.

When Ratiri was finished with her hair, she stood up, looked down at him, and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, allanah."

He managed a smile. "You won't be able to call me that for much longer," he said. "You'll confuse little Allanah."

"I'll call you what I like," she said, taking his hand and drawing him to his feet. "Now I'm cold and there's a fire, so let's just go sit." Out she led him, to the sofas near the fireplace. There was a soft blanket draped along the back, and she grabbed it and wrapped herself up in it, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, cheek against her hair.

"Ratiri," said Thranduil. "Now does not feel like the time to have an extensive conversation about Anguriel. But I must ask you for the same promise I have been given by Lorna and Earlene. It is not an ordinary object, and is dangerous in the extreme. You must not touch it, you must not go near it, no matter what. Do I have your word?"

"You do," Ratiri said; he had absolutely no desire to go anywhere near that sword, let alone touch it. The thing was strangely sickening, and he chose to focus instead on the sweet lavender of Lorna's hair. The soft rhythm of her breathing told him she was asleep.

"Thank you," said the King softly, bringing Earlene one of her books and promising to join her momentarily. In the outer room, he leaned in closely to Thanadir and spoke earnestly. No one else noticed him bow deeply to Thranduil, remove his own sword, and replace it with Anguriel before departing.

In the village called Lasg'len, Avathar stood unseen, watching the forest.

He had followed the one called Ratiri - having been unable to follow little Lorna, who drove like a demon.

He was disappointed he wouldn't have another night with her - Thranduil must have told her the truth, if his stricken expression had been anything to go by. Avathar was surprised he would go with her to her cottage; the expectation had been that he would squirrel her away, and not let her out of those lovely Halls. To leave his forest, and bring her to gather her mortal things...she was dearer to him than Avathar had thought, which only made this all the more satisfying.

And then Ratiri, little Lorna's mortal lover - he too was brought in, and that was even more of a surprise. No doubt he would remain in the Halls as well, out of reach.

For now.

Avathar would not enter the forest yet - not until he knew more of it, and of the enchantments that protected it. This Thranduil had abilities beyond the Eldar he had known so long ago, and it would be unwise to enter his realm lightly.

The expectation was that he would lock himself away, and keep his people safe within his borders. But the Eldar in his woods were not his _only_ people; this village lay unprotected. In time, Avathar would decide just what he wanted to do with them.

"I left you your children, little Lorna," he said to himself, while the dying sunset stained the trees red. "Aren't I merciful?"

Yes, he was merciful. Merciful enough to lurk, and linger, and leave them wondering what he would do next.


	44. Chapter 44

Earlene made every effort not to complain or give way to irritability, but it was becoming something of a challenge. The last week had seen a number of meetings among the four of them; Thanadir had been absent often. Though Thranduil did not volunteer information regarding how the seneschal occupied his time, the disappearance of Anguirel from their rooms caused her to suspect that he was on patrol. That their enemy was known to all, she divined from the visible strain on the faces of most of the elves she encountered. Left to her own devices, and with the luxury of Lorna and Ratiri to watch Allanah between feedings, Earlene was able to move about, listen, and speak to some of the others that dwelled in the fortress. She did not press Thranduil for information; while he dissembled well around Lorna and Ratiri, the weight of his extra burdens was obvious to her, from whom he did not try to hide his feelings. His temper was shorter, his emotional and physical needs greater. All she had she gave him willingly, but after the fifth day it was obvious that this was not a healthy state of affairs; something would have to give. On the sixth day, she begged to be allowed to run in the forest. Reluctantly Thranduil granted this, insisting on personally accompanying her with Anguirel. He required her to stay well within the borders of the woods, but anything was better than nothing; she thanked him profusely for his indulgence of her wishes.

As she sifted and observed relentlessly, one thing registered: Thanadir was always present at their evening meal. And so the day after her run, Earlene decided on a mildly audacious course of action. Thranduil was elsewhere, and she kept careful track of time that day via the sand-glass in their rooms. Once she determined it was within the hour before their supper, she departed, walked to the seneschal's quarters, and after knocking, let herself into his rooms...where she began to pace slowly, the same few feet of floor, until he returned. Not expecting that there would be anyone, the elf did not notice her until the door was closed. His cloak came off, and she observed that he wore Anguirel. Then he saw her, and his eyes widened.

"What are you doing in my private rooms, Earlene?" he asked. There was emphasis on the word 'private.'

"I was hoping to speak _privately_ to a friend. I give you my word that I have not moved but four feet from where you now see me, and have not even allowed myself to look around with my eyes at your belongings. While I apologize for the intrusion, I did not do so lightly."

He knew her too well to believe she was exaggerating. "Very well. I accept your apology. I did not mean to speak curtly to you, but this was not expected. What is it?"

"Are you forbidden to speak to me about what you are doing with your time?"

"No," he said hesitantly, "but you are not an elf."

"Can you tell me why that has any bearing on this discussion?"

Thanadir sighed. "It is because your minds are vulnerable to...him."

"But mine is not, Thanadir. The King himself said so." She pointed to the jewels at her neck. "I will not play games with you, meldir. I respect both you and my husband too much to interfere inappropriately. But I too have a mind for planning and analysis. I see the strain my husband is under, and because of that I do not wish to add to his burdens by asking him about these things. Yet I hope you could understand, if I say to you that I would simply very much like to know what is going on? What few observations I have made already tell me that the current situation is not sustainable; it will not do to hide behind these gates forever. I deduce that you are spending much time in the forest. And I think you know that I cannot hide that I have spoken with you from our King even if I wished to. I ask you also, so that I may keep his time with me filled with what comforts I can give him and not...this."

He considered for many moments before speaking. "I will talk to you, Earlene. You have proven discreet and faithful, and your vows mean a great deal to you. Please sit down."

Her head bowed to him deeply in gratitude.

" _It_ has already found us here," Thanadir said with no small measure of disgust. "He lurks at the edges of the woods, not far from your cottage, mostly. He watches. Sometimes, he departs toward the village. Aran Thranduil was clear that we were not to follow his movements past a certain distance away. But he does not see us. He is not a wood-elf," Thanadir said with a touch of pride. "We believe he is studying the movements he is allowed to see. Rîniel continues to milk Buttercup and care for the animals; and once each day one of our number goes to your cottage. Who goes is varied. You might say that the whole of this week has been spent trying to gather information about our enemy. The most skilled among us have tracked him. He has a...like a vehicle, but rather large. A place in which he takes shelter when it is wet or late at night; there are others like it near to the one in which he stays. It is my belief that eventually, he will cross our borders."

Earlene considered what she had been told. "Has he been seen with any devices? Anything in his hands?"

"No. He is dressed as an ordinary Irishman. Not the same clothes as were worn by people in New York."

"Thranduil told me that he could affect what mortals can see. More than told me; I experienced it myself. I would assume this Von Ratched has the same ability. He must be either stealing or buying food from the town, and yet those there would see him as an human man, if indeed they see him at all." She smiled. "Perhaps you will not approve of this proposition, but I will make it nonetheless. I am in a position to be uniquely helpful, I believe. If to hurt our King is his desire, I would be a tempting morsel indeed. I am protected from his mind, but he could not know how or why. I would be extremely surprised if you did not attract some interest, were he to believe I was vulnerable through spending time at the cottage. And were I to go to town for groceries escorted by you and Thranduil, or be seen running near the forest borders, I would imagine that would be an occurrence of overwhelming interest. Should it serve your purposes, as time wears on. We are all in a chess match, and as always the question becomes, who has the best command of the game play? I like the idea of him being fed deceptions." Her head tilted a bit. "Thank you, very much, for speaking with me. If neither of us are reproved for having had this discussion, I would very much like to hear more, when there is more to hear. I will leave you in peace, now."

"You are welcome, Earlene." They both laughed when she was a little stuck in the soft cushioning of his sofa, and needed two tries to get up.

"Hîr vuin," she said, bowing her head to him once more before departing.

Thanadir shook his head and smiled. He very much liked the workings of her mind, and now he had more to consider.

Earlene returned to her quarters just in time to here the beginnings of Allanah squalling to eat, and rushed inside, taking her from Ratiri. "Sorry about that," she said sheepishly. "I almost ruined your eardrums, but better slightly late than never." With an amused smile, he handed the baby over. She moved into the bedroom for just a moment, reasoning that for a change it might be slightly kinder to her friends, to get the process properly underway first rather than her usual habit of randomly fishing out her boobs. Once Allanah was latched on, she returned to them, just in time for Thranduil to storm in.

His expression was not one Lorna was encouraged by, mainly because there were elements in it she recognized: he wasn't just pissed, she was certain. There was a touch of fear in there, somewhere, unless she was much mistaken. _Well, this isn't good._

"Have a scone," she said, shoving the plate toward him. It probably wouldn't do any good, but what the hell, she had to try.

The two heavy blows on the door followed her words, with Thranduil shooting a baleful look at anything concerning scones as he leaned back to pull the door open to admit Thanadir, who ignored his somewhat frosty glare. Thanadir set down his heavy tray, and began setting the table like usual.

Thranduil removed his light green cloak and tossed it over a chair. "Thanadir. Earlene. In the bedroom, please. Now."

 _Three guesses what this is about,_ Earlene thought, _and two don't count._ But she held her head high, feeling certain of the technical appropriateness of her actions. They filed past him, and he closed the door.

Lorna, being Lorna, immediately seized on how very _wrong_ that sounded, which of course meant her brain went places she'd really, really rather it didn't. Sure, someone out there would probably pay to see it, but...yeesh. She was not ashamed by the fact that she twitched a bit, because no. That would be like picturing all of her siblings...nope. _Thinking of something else now._ "I'm guessing the pair'v them coughed up something he doesn't like," she sighed, leaning against Ratiri. "Whatever it is, I'd love to help. It's lovely in here, but if I don't get out under open sky in a hurry, I'll go spare. I wish somebody'd tell me what in flying fuck's going on out there. Not knowing's driving me mental, too." Even if she couldn't actually do anything about any of it - and oh, did that gall - she wanted to _know_.

Ratiri wanted to tell her sky wasn't that important, except that he too was feeling its lack. He sat still far easier than Lorna did, and had spent much time studying Sindarin, seated on the floor of the practice hall while she threw knives (he had no desire whatsoever to learn that skill himself; he stuck with swords), and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Thus far, Lorna refused to talk about it, and he wasn't going to do or say a thing to try to nudge her. She'd speak of it in her own time, even if that took the next six days, or six weeks, or six years, but he saw what she was doing: knowing Thranduil couldn't help but read their minds, she was doing her best to keep hers busy, so that she was not the only one distracted from whatever her trauma had done to it. It likely wasn't healthy, but it was working for now, and he was not a psychologist - he couldn't exactly suggest anything better.

Still. Sooner or later something would give, and all he could do was be there. The strain of not interfering was occasionally great, but Lorna wouldn't appreciate anyone hovering, so he didn't. He stayed beside her, even if it meant, at one point, letting her try to French braid his hair. It wasn't nearly long enough, but it didn't stop her trying.

Lorna, for her part, was largely sustained by dreams of murder. Though she had no memory of that fucker coming to her house, she nevertheless had elaborate dreams of slaughtering him in increasingly creative ways, which at least was nice to wake up to in the morning. Certainly far better than nightmares.

But she wanted to go outside. She wanted to _do_ something - she was safe in here, but she was helpless. Helpless, and in the dark.

"Explain yourselves," Thranduil said, very quietly but with eyes blazing in anger.

Thanadir moved to speak but Earlene both held up her hand against him and stepped forward. "It is very simple. You had not forbidden either of us to discuss it. I asked first, as you already know. I am sworn to obey you. I did not and will not take any manner of action that does not have your approval. What I am not sworn to do is sit around, useless, content to ignore the fact that my husband is facing a difficult adversary. I have neither your powers, nor your strength, but I do have a mind that is very adept at exactly this sort of difficulty."

His eyes bored into hers. "This is not one of your games, Earlene. You cannot imagine the consequences of what we are facing."

By some miracle, she remembered to keep her voice at barely above a whisper. "With respect, my King, you are wrong. This is absolutely a game, albeit one with outcomes that have significant weight. And perhaps, just perhaps, I have even more experience than you in going up against the kind of individual that plays on exactly this kind of game board. _He_ has been at one with the modern world for at least the last eighty years, while you were shuttered in here not knowing the function of a combustion engine. _He_ has involved himself with the underpinnings of power and influence in this world, _my_ world, while you have kept to your forest. And _he_ , unless I am much mistaken, is above all other things bored and unchallenged, which is the sum of the reason he is parked outside your borders. Are you willing to risk everything on the conviction that I have _nothing_ to offer?"

He stood, frozen, listening to her words, whereas Thanadir seemed just generally astonished at the sum of what had come out of her mouth. Thranduil did not move. She had said what she had to say, and bowed her head deeply to him in a gesture of submission. Her words would stand on their own merit, or not; the rest was up to him. His shoulders dropped, and he slumped into an armchair. "Sit down, both of you", he said, his intensity broken. He regarded his boots for a time, before speaking again. "I will concede that I am feeling the weight of a responsibility that has not been this heavy in a very long time. Two mortal females I care about deeply for different reasons, are under my protection against a creature that has already made the extent of his depravity quite clear. What would you have me do?" he asked, obviously frustrated.

"Win the game, of course," she said. "And if you are asking the more precise question of how do I wish you would allow me to participate, it would be to include me. Allow me to know what you learn. Listen to my ideas, whether or not you choose to act on them. What harm can there be in hearing me out? Considering every option should be a basic function of any problem solving exercise."

"Let us not pretend, Earlene. I heard your conversation with Thanadir. Your ideas include using yourself as bait. I find that kind of offering to be completely unacceptable."

"Even if I could prove to you that actions involving negligible risk could possibly gain you a victory? Do you not understand the power you are handing that man, just by virtue of the reasoning you are using right now? If you are paralyzed into indecision by perceived risk to three mortals, he has already won. I do not intend to sit here and argue this right now. But later on, would you at least consent to hear me out in greater detail? I have never once knowingly disobeyed you, Thranduil," she said, before falling into silence.

His head fell back as he steepled his fingers, hating with every fiber of his being that he could find no flaw whatsoever in any of her words. Finally a cavernous sigh came out of him. "Very well. And I have delayed dinner long enough," he said.

Earlene knew better to even think happy thoughts at her victory. With another bow of her head, she rose. "I will be out in a moment. Allanah is almost done." It was only when both ellyn had left the room that she allowed the tiniest corner of her mouth to turn up in a smile.

Lorna looked at the elves, searching their faces. "I don't know what you're planning," she said, "but I want in. I've got to know what's going on or I'll go spare."

Thranduil sat down and openly glared at her. "There is no planning. There has only been gathering information, and planning about planning." Thanadir poured him wine. Days ago Earlene had already promised not to say a word about wine or ask for any; it was important to her that he be able to have this without feeling guilt, and even Lorna had agreed, though it was far more galling to her. He looked up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to those seated at the table. "I need an agreement on this. That my temper is less than even at the moment is hardly a secret. I am willing to discuss, and share information. I am not willing to argue. If we can all work with that condition, this topic can continue. Otherwise, this is my home. Even I need a place I can come to feel my obligations somewhat less. Can we all...work with that?"

Earlene did not look up, and only nodded her agreement while sipping her water.

"We can," Lorna said, and she actually meant it. Ratiri echoed her affirmation.

"All I want is to know what you've found," Lorna said evenly, though she was incredibly tempted to do a drive-by hugging she knew he wouldn't appreciate right now. _I'm hugging you in my mind, and you're gonna like it_. "Even if it's not much, _not_ knowing just makes me feel helpless. If all he's done so far is - is pissed at the edge'v the forest, I'd still rather know than wonder." She glanced at Ratiri. "And we both want outside. Doesn't have to be _far_ outside - hell, even if we stuck just near the gates, at least we'd have breeze and sky."

"And a pregnant woman should ideally have at least some exposure to sunlight," Ratiri added - ever the doctor. He wasn't going to go on about Vitamin D.

Simply hearing that response from the one he most expected to battle removed a weight from his spirit. The moment Lorna spoke, Thranduil's expression visibly softened, as he took a drink of his wine. "Regarding the latter, yes. I will find a way for you to have time outside under some kind of guard. This has caused difficulty for Earlene as well, and I now realize that I cannot expect you to dwell indoors every moment of every day."

Thanadir now ladled a rich stew of beef, potatoes and lentils into their bowls. Another thing for which Earlene had lobbied was the purchase of uncut sides of beef, from the local dairy farms. It took some doing, but it left them with a supply of highly affordable lower-grade meat ideal for stews and soups. Not to mention the bones that would provide nutritious broth; every bit of the animals would be used. The fact that the elves did not simply eat slabs of meat at their meals made the justification of this dietary addition so much easier. Though, the sight of four ellith apiece carrying the heavy sides with shoulder-yokes was something she would not forget anytime soon.

"Regarding what we have found, I would guess Thanadir has more than adequate grasp of that so as to answer?" This was said with a slight smirk. He really had no grounds to blame his seneschal for speaking with Earlene. He had only _wanted_ to have them. In spite of himself, he was relaxing more than he anticipated.

The beleaguered elf managed a smile at his King's words, and related what they had observed. Because he was not specifically asked to, he mentioned nothing about Earlene's thoughts on the matter, their earlier discussion, or what they had learned of this man via Lorna's friend. While everyone wished to include Lorna to the extent possible, they kept coming back to one central problem; there was only one Necklace of Lasgalen, and Lorna was not the one who wore it. They could not afford their enemy to have another accidental glimpse into her mind that could betray any of their knowledge of him.

Thought of going outside made Lorna happier than anything else had managed all week. She didn't care if they had to stay within a dozen yards of the damn front door - it would be _outside_. She wanted to walk in the trees with Ratiri, and momentarily forget all the shite going on in their lives.

Ratiri had busily applied himself to his food, but he kept glancing at the sword in its sheath. "How did that come to make its way here?" he asked, nodding at it. For some reason, he was reluctant to speak its name, nonsensical though that was. "I had thought it had been lost ages ago. Literally."

Thranduil shook his head. "I have few facts and many educated guesses. It was presented to me in the War of the Last Alliance, after the death of my father, and after the death of Gil-Galad, in whose possession it came to be. I was heir to the throne, and had already assumed the leadership of my people, though I would not be officially crowned King until our return to Eryn Galen. Only two things were plain: Elrond, who you must recall was formerly of Lindon, did not want anything to do with it, and, possession of it required an elf of considerable strength. What I will never know is who kept it for Gil-Galad; he bore a different weapon entirely. Presumably one of the mightier ones in his service, or perhaps it was kept in reserve by his page? I do not know. As for how it came to be in Lindon at all, that is yet more guesswork. I spent no small amount of time pondering this. The mate of this sword, Anglachel, came to Túrin Turambar, who reforged it and named it Gurthang. It was later shattered, and its shards now lie beneath the seas. As you know, Elu Thingol refused to wield Anglachel on the warning of Melian, because she perceived the malice in the blade. Malice that lives in this sword as well. But I digress. Were I to guess, it likely came to Lindon via a refugee from Gondolin, for indeed the surviving Gondolindrim made their way to Lindon in what numbers remained. As to how it came to Gondolin? That is known even in the stories of this man Tolkien; Maeglin stole it from Eöl. Those are my best surmises. Perhaps I could ask the blade itself, but I have no wish to. Bearing it is bad enough."

Lorna looked at it, and at him. "It _talks_?" she asked. "That's the creepiest fucking thing I've ever heard." She must have missed that bit in her reading, but eurgh.

"Whatever was done to create Anguriel and Anglachel, I do not even want to imagine. Yes, it is capable of speech, and its voice is one of deadly cold. Anglachel spoke to Túrin, when it agreed to claim his life. I rue that this thing has any need to be among us," he said, his expression turning to one of great loathing and anger.

Earlene shuddered, having heard the whispers. And now she knew, that had not been her imagination.

Ratiri shook his head. Maeglin. He'd wondered, during his reading, just why Maeglin had turned out as he did. There were differing accounts about Eöl and Aredhel's relationship, and just how presumably abusive it had or had not been, but people like Maeglin were rarely the products of happy homes.

"Once we're done with it, can it be melted?" Lorna asked, now thoroughly skeeved. It was a good thing they hadn't done it before now, her pop-culture-fed brain compared it a touch to Loki's staff in _The Avengers_ \- semi-sentient, capable of fucking with the brains of everyone around it...at least it couldn't shoot glowing blue shit. Thank God for small favors.

"Thanadir is the most talented smith left among us, and I would not endanger him by asking him to try. It is not an ordinary object, Lorna, and artifacts such as this...let us say they have a will of their own, and have been known to be capable of fighting for their own survival. When this is over, it will go back whence it came; deep into my vault, behind a door with enchantments of which only I am the master."

Earlene saw that there were biscuits to go with the stew, and happily took three, buttering them. At least if she had to be deeply disturbed by that sword behind her on the table, she could have carbohydrates.

"Can't say I'll be sorry to see it go," Lorna said, sipping her water and wishing like hell it was wine. "While I'm damn glad I don't remember any'v...that, I do wish I could remember shooting that bastard. Too bad I didn't take half his head off - even if it wouldn't've killed him, it would've slowed him down."

Thranduil swallowed his food. "You apparently did yell at him to...how did you say it? 'Get off my lawn.' Which for you, contained an astonishing lack of obscenities."

Unfortunately, Lorna had made the mistake of trying to eat a biscuit; his words made her laugh so hard she choked, so surprised she could do nothing else. Ratiri thumped her on the back a few times until she coughed up the offending bit of bread, and she took a few sips of water. "I told him to get off my lawn and shot him. Well, at least nobody can say I didn't try."

"It was more than try, Lorna. It was extremely courageous," said Thanadir. "Few others could have managed anything close to it."

She ducked her head a little, still unused to such frank compliments even though she'd received quite a few in the last months. "Might have done more good if the shells hadn't probably been older than my mam," she said, but she gave him a grateful - if naturally awkward - smile.

"I'm suddenly nervous about what you might do to me whenever we have our first fight," Ratiri said, rubbing her back in case she needed to cough up anything else.

"Nah, I actually like you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Be underwater first," Earlene quipped. "It slows her down." There was no explanation, and Earlene kept right on eating.

That only made Lorna choke again, while a bewildered Ratiri helped her wheeze it back up. He debated asking, but decided he didn't want to know.

 _Meluieg_ , Thranduil rebuked.

 _Yes, my Lord_ , she silently replied with the barest hint of a smirk. But she did not feel too guilty for having said it.

Lorna, finally done hacking up her food, downed the rest of her water. _Hey Thranduil, can I talk to you later?_

The clear blue eyes looked up at her, and he subtly gave a single nod. He was extremely determined to enjoy his meal, and took another drink of wine. But he did give more courtesy than that. _We will go for a walk._

In an effort to make him smile, she trotted out a saying her eldest niece was so fond of: _Cool beans. Hey, is there some way to, I don't know, transfer your wine-buzz to me telepathically?_ She couldn't quite keep the grin off her face when she asked - not that she tried very hard. Every time she actually managed to pull a smile out of him, she counted it a victory.

He looked across to her. _The sad truth is, 'wine buzz' starts for me after the second full bottle. We all have our trials to bear. What I am consuming now, for me, does as much as two shots of your poítin does for you._

Lorna actually, physically winced a little. That was next to nothing...just how high _was_ his tolerance? Something told her he could probably drink even other elves under the table without breaking a sweat. _Dammit. Had to ask. I really, really wish we had some weed - either you'd love it or you'd totally hate it, but I bet you'd love it. As long as we had enough munchies, anyway._ There was little more annoying than being stoned with nothing to eat. If Earlene was building a greenhouse...no. Bad Lorna.

"Have you felt your babies moving yet?" Ratiri asked Earlene.

She shook her head No. "They were conceived on April 25th. So, three months and one week, almost to the day. But they are most definitely growing, if my midsection is any indication," she smiled.

"It's always convenient when you know exactly when," he said, glancing at Lorna, who gave him a fond dig with her elbow. "Lorna's considering giving birth in hospital, because it's twins."

"But mostly because Thranduil, while you are my friend, having you deliver my kids would just be too goddamn weird," Lorna said. "I'm more'v a prude than Earlene, though I never thought I'd ever be able to call myself a prude. That and unless you can actually reorder my skeleton, I might need a C-section." If he actually _could_ manipulate her skeleton to that degree...well, the idea was fascinating, in a gross kind of way.

Thranduil's lips parted, slightly, but he said nothing. This was the furthest thing from his mind, at the moment, and this was not an appropriate time to discuss such a matter. Though, part of him wondered just how much more these people needed to see, to comprehend that short of the moment of death, there was nothing he could not do to a mortal body. He dismissed the subject. This was not his decision.

"Granted," Lorna sighed, "that's depending on Von Fuckface out there. Though I won't lie - if I had the chance to knock him down and have my waters break on him, I wouldn't mind a bit."

This caused Earlene to start giggling, though she brought herself under control fairly quickly, for her. That Thranduil kicked her under the table (he was gentle, but it was still a kick) helped quite a lot. She had just finished her stew, when they heard a wailing from the bedroom. "I _knew_ she didn't nurse long enough," she muttered, rising to go to her. When she returned, with the baby latched on, she sat in a huff. "I want that breast pump Bridie told me about. There has to be a way to manage going to town. Life can't grind to a halt forever on account of….yeah."

God, Lorna loved the idea of going to town, for all she knew it just might not be an option. She wanted to - Christ, did she want to - but while she was, as Mairead said, stubborn as a mule, she wasn't stupid. As much as she loathed the fact that she had no defenses against that son of a bitch, it didn't change the fact that she had none, so she contented herself with eating the last of her biscuits. Part of why she was so irritated about her wine restriction was that she still didn't really feel _pregnant_ yet. Yeah, there was the morning sickness, and more fatigue than normal, but other than that it just felt like she was being denied alcohol for no reason. As much as she wasn't looking forward to the baby bump from hell, at least it would make it it feel a bit more real.

"I've got some cash," she said, "just in case bank cards can't get used, for...whatever reason." She didn't want to actually say 'in case none of us can go', let she jinx it.

"I will make no promises of any kind concerning this," Thranduil said, rather irritated that Earlene had spoken.

"Forgive me," said Earlene, hearing the unmistakable edge to his voice. "I did not think. Something that is all too common these days. I did not mean to…" she stopped, sighing, because she knew she'd put her foot in it.

"I know, Earlene. Something will be managed," Thranduil said, with a kinder tone.

She nodded, genuinely feeling badly about her mistake. "Please excuse me," she said, rising again. "I really need to sit in a more comfortable chair." Which was not altogether true, but the sum of the day had just gone into the red zone for her, and she wanted to be alone. Returning to the bedroom, she closed the door behind her.

 _Why the hell_ , Lorna wondered, _did she ask forgiveness for something that didn't need forgiving?_ What she'd said was only sensible, if potentially a hassle. Christ, there were plenty of humans out there...oh.

 _Oh_.

How this would work, she wasn't sure - _if_ it would work, she wasn't sure - but hell, it was worth a shot. "I say we bring in Orla anyway," she said. "Her and her crew, to work on the house, and pretend we don't see Von Arsehole lurking like a creeper. Maybe he'll get bold and do something stupid. Because so long as we're sitting in here, he's probably going to just sit out there, and it's us he's concerned with, not some random human construction crew. If we give him enough rope, maybe his boredom and his arrogance with hang him for us." It sounded like insanity, and maybe it was, but when dealing with someone like that… "He won't predict it, and I think that might be what could give us the upper hand. If we can keep surprising him, and keep him off-balance, sooner or later he'll fuck up." How _much_ later, she had no idea, but hopefully not too far along down the road.

Thanadir privately thought that this notion had considerable merit, but was not about to say anything out of turn. He rose and began clearing his and Earlene's dish, thinking. Thinking. "Excuse me for a few moments. I believe it is time for Allanah to be changed, and I wish to do that for Earlene." It was quite possibly the closest thing to an untruth he had ever spoken, and he frowned inside of himself at the words tumbling from his mouth. But it did have the desired effect. No one questioned why he wanted to leave the room.

Entering the bedroom silently, he heard exactly what he feared. Earlene had her back to the door, reclined against the end of the sofa near the fireplace. Occasional sniffles betrayed the real reason she had wished to come in here. Thanadir effortlessly moved her forward, to sit behind her and hold her. He said nothing.

"Thanadir," she whispered, "I am not used to being like this. I know that pregnancy can change many things about a female body. But for me to feel like I am losing control over the acuity of my thoughts, and what I speak to others…" she shook her head, as more tears rolled down her face. "Maybe for most people this would not matter in the least but it is hard for me to even find words for how in control of this sort of thing I am used to being. That I am speaking thoughtlessly as much as I am…"

The old elf stroked her head with his hand. "Earlene, you are under strain just as we are. And after hearing the sum of your words today, I believe your difficulties are no less real than mine, or Aran Thranduil's." He hesitated, because speaking like this to others did not come easily to him. "Your intelligence is formidable, Earlene. Not just for a mortal. For anyone. You have earned my respect and I do not give it lightly. Do not berate yourself for the limitations of your body. Our King understands, and I know he loves you very much."

She nodded, leaning back into him. "That thing out there will not win," she said with a hardening edge to her voice. "You understand that, Thandir, do you not? Because we are good, and he is not, and that is how it will be." Her voice held an eerie weight of conviction that astonished him, and his heart surged with pride that she counted him as a friend.

"I know, Earlene." Allanah finished nursing, and an unmistakable sound from her tiny bottom indicated that Thanadir had not spoken an untruth to leave the room after all. "Stay here, and give her to me. I will change her."

Handing her over, Earlene adjusted her clothing, wiping her face. "Thank you, meldir," she whispered, curling up and staring at the flames.

Thranduil listened to Lorna, distracted. "I will think about what you have said, Lorna. I do not mean to dismiss your words. I hope that you can understand that there are times I desperately need to stop thinking about this matter, just for awhile. This is one of those times."

Lorna eyed him speculatively. "Okay," she said, "what's the stupidest, most ridiculous, most irresponsible thing you've ever done?"

 _What in Eru's name…?_ "I…" he frowned. His youth was not much given to foolishness, on account of Oropher's tyranny. Part of him wondered if it was not his seduction of Earlene, but that did not really fit this question. _There was that time, with the first elk…_ He'd stalked the animal for days, convinced that if he could simply get close enough to it to touch, that the skill of his people with beasts would see him the rest of the way through to taming it to his will. But he'd badly underestimated the spirit of the giant Rhovanion bull, and when he decided that the key to success lay in dropping onto its back from the trees overhead, he'd gotten the ride of his life. By all rights, both he and the elk should have been killed, because what followed had been a violent match of strength and will that in the end sent both of them plunging off a thirty foot cliff and into the deepest parts of the Forest River. He held his mouth and chin in his hand, debating if he wanted to confess this lunacy to her. Even Thanadir did not know the full truth of this tale. "It was when I chose to go about taming an elk in a rather ill-advised manner," he said. "Why?"

"You wanted to think about something else," she said, grinning. "And I don't know about you, but sometimes re-telling stories about my own stupidity makes me feel better about the person I am now."

"Only you, Lorna," Ratiri said, shaking his head. "Though if we're on that subject, it was definitely riding a snowmobile in a Boba Fett helmet. It didn't exactly allow for wonderful visibility."

Thranduil chuckled. "I must be careful, not even Thanadir knows the full truth of that tale. I was guilty of several errors of omission when I at last returned home from that adventure."

"You already know about the bus," she said, leaning against Ratiri. "God, what was the second-dumbest...too many to count, though I think trying to build a barbecue on the roof'vthe warehouse comes in there somewhere. It's not something you should do while the entire lot'v you are stoned off your gourds."

"There is very little you should do while stoned off your gourd," Ratiri said. "Sitting and eating is just about it. Watching a laser-show never hurts."

"When all this is over, and I can get weed," Lorna said, "and once everyone's done with breast-feeding and that, I want to get you and Thanadir stoned and put on a laser-show. I don't care how old you are, there's no way you've ever seen _that_. And maybe a water-balloon fight. There's so much about modern Earth you've not yet experienced, so many fun things. You and Thanadir really have seen a disproportionate amount of shite, given how limited your experience has been."

Thranduil listened to this and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what difference does it make", he said. "It was thousands of years ago. From watching those films, you might have learned that I rode an elk. But that elk was one in a long line of them. It was the first one, _that_ was the story. I first came up with the idea when I was in the forest hunting, and…." he confessed the whole tale, somewhat bolstered by the fact that Thanadir had not yet returned from changing the baby. "So you can see, that nearly matches your bus incident, though at least no other elves or roadways were involved. Mostly."

Lorna tried to hold in her laughter, and failed utterly. "Jesus, that's brilliant," she said. "Don't tell your kids that, they'll try to top it, and fail. It's a damn good thing you're an elf, or you might've wound up a smear on the ground. If I had a hat on, I would take it off to you."

Ratiri certainly had been getting an education about elves. Three months ago, he wouldn't have been able to picture Thranduil, even a young Thranduil, doing that, and he did still have trouble with it, but at least now he could _do_ it. "It worked," he said. "Eventually. That's all that really matters, isn't it?"

" 'Brilliant' would not be the adjective I would choose to apply to my decisions that day," he said with chagrin, but his face was lit with a beautiful smile as he recalled the memory so long forgotten. "And yes, it did work," he chuckled. Behind him, just then, he heard a throat clear, and turned to see Thanadir with an insufferable smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

"It will take me a week to find that record in the archives. I trust that you will repeat your story later, so that I can add in the *accurate* revision, my King?"

If there was an answer spoken aloud, it was lost to the sound of the laughter at the table.

Lorna was...content. She hadn't thought she'd ever be able to say that again, a week ago, but she had her family and delicious food, and for now she would shut out everything outside this room. Anything else could damn well wait; she wouldn't pester Thranduil about anything just now. It wasn't urgent, and she was so relaxed that she didn't want to. Let it wait. "And yet we'll all be wanting our kids to be safe and responsible," she said, shaking her head against Ratiri's shoulder. "I don't know how to be a parent. Mam tried, but didn't get far, and the less said'v Da, the better."

"We all pretend, Lorna. I did not disclose my few instances of foolishness to my son. Who, I will freely admit, had far greater sense in some respects than I did. I liked to believe that what he did not know, did not hurt him," Thranduil said. It did not help one bit that behind him, Thanadir rolled his eyes upward and nodded to himself.

"Well, at least you survived my driving," she said. "And didn't wee yourself. If past reaction's any indication, that's more'v a feat than you'd think. I've wanted to do that for a while now." Which was entirely true; she just usually had passengers who would probably murder her if she did. Well, Earlene might murder her; Thanadir, according to Thranduil, was apparently more devious and subtle. Which might actually be scarier.

The King snorted. "Earlene _would_ murder you. Thanadir would find a way to make you wish you had been murdered. I am afraid that you will have to be content with limiting that experience to me."

"Do I want to know?" Thanadir asked, frowning.

"No," said Lorna and Thranduil in stereo, before they both began laughing again.

"How fast did you manage?" Ratiri asked. "You don't have to tell me now, but I want to know later."

"Fast enough," she said, attempting to be demure and failing horribly. " _I_ enjoyed it, at least." It wasn't entirely a lie; while 'enjoy' was not a word anyone would use for it, she'd felt powerful, in control - the closest she could come to joy. Part of her wanted to do it again someday, without any urgency. "Watch, there'll be traffic cops all up and down the motorway now, if they got enough calls from other drivers." She was pretty sure she hadn't caused any accidents, though. Pretty sure.

Thranduil, eyeing with concern the unmistakable transformation of Thanadir's expression, decided that changing the subject might be very wise. "Excuse me, I should check on Earlene," he said, rising. Which was true, as she had been gone an inexplicably long time. Silently, Thanadir passed along some pertinent information to him. Entering and closing the door behind him, he saw that in the low light she had fallen asleep against the sofa, with a drying tear-stain still visible on her cheek. The sight affected him very deeply, as he knelt down in front of her. Studying her face in the flickering light, he cast his eyes down. He had leaned on her very heavily this week, and demanded much. She had not faltered even once, until her tiny misstep at the dinner table. _She is giving me all that her mind and body has to give, and I have caused her grief now that she has reached her limits. I am sorry, Earlene._

He stood up again, having made up his mind. Returning briefly, he made his apologies. "Earlene has fallen asleep, and I wish to care for her and Allanah. It is yet early, but I hope you do not mind it if I excuse myself." _I hope, Lorna, you would allow me to talk with you in the morning instead? I am sorry. If it is very important and cannot wait, please tell me now._ When she smiled and shook her head No, he nodded and wished them a good evening. Thanadir had already left, having cleared the table.

Lorna was exhausted, though she didn't know if it was the food, the situation, or the sprogs.

Keeping up her game face - and game _mind_ \- was exhausting. Having others grieve and anger what had happened to her...no. She couldn't deal with that, and neither could they, so she did what she had to to. She didn't need people worried about her, so she did what she'd always done: looked after people.

Ratiri, she was sure, knew what she was doing, but he humored her. If she wanted to pretend it was okay, he wasn't going to press her to think or act otherwise; it probably wasn't healthy, but he knew her well enough to know that trying to push the issue would end in _somebody's_ tears, and they probably wouldn't be hers. For a man who didn't have telepathy, he could read her so well it was almost scary at times.

He said nothing when they returned to her room - their room, since they'd both spent the night in it all week - but he guided her to sit before the fire so he could rub the tension from her shoulders. He had positively magic hands, knowing just where to knead and how hard, until she was relaxed as a noodle.

Tired though she was, she didn't want to sleep. Weirdly, though she had no memories of it, she kept having nightmares about Von Ratched showing up on her doorstep - nightmares where she _didn't_ shoot him, and instead he murdered her.

A thought occurred to her, and she hauled herself to her feet. Her iPod had been mostly charged the day she came here, and she hadn't turned it on since; her laptop was likewise still at nearly full battery. Opening it, she plugged in both iPod and portable speakers, not caring that it would drain the battery in a heartbeat. Clicking through to her Nostalgia playlist, she hit play and turned up the volume.

"I can't dance for shite, but let's give it a go," she said, reaching for his hand as the strains of Banana Rama rang out.

"Neither can I," Ratiri admitted, taking her hand. "At least we'll be rubbish together."

"She's got it," Lorna sang, leading him awkwardly out around the sofa. "Yeah baby, she's got it."

Laughing, Ratiri managed, "I'm your Venus, I'm your fire."

Hearing that in his deep voice made her dissolve into laughter, naturally missing the beat even more noticeably. The good thing about so many 80's songs was that there really was more than one beat to follow, though neither one of them seemed capable of picking one and sticking to it. Oh well. It wasn't like anyone could see them.

They managed to make it through the song without knocking into anything, though it was a near miss a few times, and she came as close to contentment as she'd yet managed since...it.

Ratiri watched the tension leave her eyes, and felt some of his own dissipate. This was silly and ridiculous and _fun_ , which he wouldn't have thought possible not so long ago. Yes, they were both dreadful at this, but there was no one to see them, and watching Lorna laugh was a welcome distraction. Indira was probably wondering what the hell had happened to him - Mairead wouldn't wonder yet, since Lorna was often away from home for days on end, but Indira had surely tried to call at least once by now. He was going to have to get away from the Halls enough to call her, because they really didn't need her driving out to Lasg'len and discovering its people were perfectly healthy. There was simply no way for _that_ to end well.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Lorna, whose chose that moment to belt out, " _IT'S RAINING MEN!"_ in time with the music. That set him off laughing so hard he had to lean against the back of the sofa, while she tried her best to keep up with the song despite obviously not knowing all the words. He'd been extremely fond of Lorna, but now he was perilously close to loving her.

Unbeknownst to him, Lorna was thinking much the same thing. Not yet; this wasn't the time to say anything, even if they'd been there. But sooner or later...well. They'd see where things went.

Allanah was clean, fed and sound asleep, and so he gently lifted his wife from the sofa to their bed, loosening and removing her clothing before covering her. He disrobed before joining her, relishing the sensation of her body against his. She stirred, and he heard her thoughts of confusion. _You fell asleep, meluieg. We are in bed._

Her arms reached for him, weak from sleep. _I am so sorry for my words, Thranduil._

 _No, meluieg. It is I who am sorry. You have met my needs in every way you were able, and I have not given you the same attention. Do not become weighed down by this, and I will do the same. We are all in the midst of a trial, and are doing the best we can. It is difficult._

 _Please_ , she asked, wanting the comfort of his body. As he drove into her in a gentle and steady rhythm, he heard something from her he did not expect. Earlene was relaxing and very close to her own pleasure. Her arms tightened around him. _Valar, bless and protect my husband_ , she prayed. A restful calm came over him as they reached a tender completion in shared love, after which Thranduil held her in his arms. For the first time since coming to them, that night little Allanah slept through.

Thranduil was the first to wake, his hand resting on Earlene's swelling abdomen. His rest brought him a greater peace of mind than he'd felt since Lorna's...assault...occurred. He could still barely call what had happened by its name, even in his mind. The thought of it was still filled with pain, for him. Though in an odd way, it had comforted him, a little, to understand that she would not have wished for the gift granted to elves in this regard. That she somehow would rather endure this violation, than depart from this life in order to avoid it. And if this was her desire, it helped give him the strength to fight back, and not succumb to despair. Especially when he had seen that Earlene shared Lorna's conviction. While no human female, he gleaned, in any way wanted to tolerate that this could occur, he saw with a great sorrow that it was a potential reality that all women feared, and for a reason. His eyes squeezed shut, no longer wishing to think about this exact subject.

What he did wish to think about, had to think about, was what to do. He was trying to open himself, break down his resistance to this notion of what amounted to baiting the man. Earlene seemed to think that it was not a great risk, to take certain actions. Lorna clearly felt that they should, for all practical purposes, put on a display of sorts for him. He was able to consider no further before Earlene stirred in his arms, trying to turn to face him. He moved her body to the position she wished, and she sighed happily as she held onto him loosely, seeking to press her skin against his own.

 _Thank you,_ she said contentedly.

 _Meluieg, I do not wish to intrude on your rest, but may we discuss the balrog?_

 _Of course._ Her mental tone was amused, more than anything else.

 _Would you tell me more, about how you feel he can be...manipulated...without risk?_

 _My exact words were 'minimal risk', Thranduil. We both know there is no such thing as zero risk in a situation like this. But yes, I will. First, hold your assets clearly in mind. He is alone; we are many. While we cannot be certain, an educated surmise leads us to believe that his powers are similar to your own as opposed to vastly greater than. This surmise is borne out by the following evidence: One, he did not arrive here until he had a mortal to follow; this was likely Ratiri. Two, he has not attempted to enter your borders yet, which indicates that he is hesitant. He would not display this behavior if he had full confidence in what powers he has available to him. Your powers are amplified inside of your borders. You know every tree branch, every root; he does not. You also have two main routes of coming and going to the outer world; my cottage and the path at the standing stone; he cannot monitor both of those at the same time. Your wood elves, according to Thanadir, possess skills of stealth that this creature does not. You have armed fighters, he does not. You have Anguriel, he does not. You have a mortal wife who is protected from his mental powers; while he is probably aware of this already, he does not understand its source. From the moment of his arrival, we were already at the Halls. That we used to live some of the time at the cottage, this he does not know for certain. He can only know what he has seen._

 _Now let us consider your liabilities. Three of your charges are mortals, weak and relatively vulnerable both physically and mentally. Though if I may say, I would wager I can outrun him. Whatever information he could extract from Lorna's mind about you, your Halls, your defenses; we must assume he knows. That he has already delved what the villagers know of you as well is a given. However, he could not have learned too much from them beyond that your seneschal enjoys quilting, that we have Allanah, and that I am with child._

 _Next you must ask yourself, what does he hope to accomplish? Consider everything you know. This creature laid eyes on you in New York and came all the way here, though no words were exchanged between you…_

 _That is not entirely true, meluieg._

 _Oh?_

 _I called upon Elbereth, in his hearing._

 _And this was to declare your allegiance to the Valar?_

 _Yes._

 _Those were, then, not words of threat to him. Nothing about them indicated that you would seek him out, challenge him, seek to harm him?_

 _That is correct._

 _And yet he has sought you out, challenged you, sought to harm you by striking against those you love. We already know that this man has an interest in wealth, and power, and cruelty; the sum of his know actions have told us this. So list the possible motivations for why he is now at your doorstep. I would offer that he simply wishes to gain power over you, or if he cannot do that, kill you and those serving you. Is that not what the evil ones of your world always sought to do? Have power and dominion over others, and leave misery in their wake? I would think it would give him rather a lot of enjoyment, to accomplish this when he had formerly believed that all the powers for good in this world had left long ago. He does not need wealth. If there is a possible motivation for what he is doing aside from desiring power and that he has not faced a challenge of this sort in over ten thousand years, I should like to know what it is._

 _Moving along. With your aforementioned assets in mind, begin behaving in a manner that is unpredictable. We should do the unexpected. What could he honestly do to any one of us mortals, guarded visibly by not only you and Thanadir, but also unseen elves? You have archers, do you not? There are many trees, between here and town. We should spend time at the cottage. We should do all sorts of carefully planned, relatively safe things that make it appear that we are unaware of his presence. In only a week, he does not understand that the patterns he sees are ones reflecting your evasion of him. But he will know from the villagers that I go to town regularly. That we go to the pub occasionally. Fail to do so, and you will inform him that his presence is known. Those are more or less the sum of my considerations, my Lord._

Thranduil closed his eyes again, holding her against him. He'd been an idiot. Laid out like this, how right she was seemed so obvious. And yet he had not seen it. What was happening, when he was the one succumbing to fear and emotional considerations, and his mortal wife was the one capable of maintaining precise detachment, coolly considering all parameters without a trace of distraction? But he already knew the answer. This was what she had given her whole life to perfecting, whereas he had spent the last many millennia unchallenged, and falling away from the sort of disciplined thinking that used to be a daily requirement. He was not incapable of this reasoning; but it had fallen into disuse.

 _Thank you, meluieg. Now I think I hear Thanadir, and Allanah will wake with hunger very soon._

With a chaste kiss, they rose, dressed, and began caring for the necessities of the day. Soon Allanah was fed, and Thanadir entered. He'd not had a chance to play with her in three days, and the doe-eyed look of pleading Earlene saw when he held out his arms was not to be ignored.

"You don't need your superpowers, Hîr vuin," she said with humor. "I would never keep you from her."

It took him a moment to understand what she meant, after which he looked at her sidewise. "Too obvious?" he asked.

"Yes," she grinned back. "You must be far more judicious and use that only as a last resort."

He grinned and nodded, happily taking the baby while Earlene chuckled. When the two knocks came on the outer door many minutes later, Thanadir laid Allanah down. "I will bring our meal," he said as he disappeared, passing Lorna and Ratiri.

Earlene and Thranduil went out to welcome them, and pour the tea that had been kept warm under a cozy.

 _You had wished to speak to me, Lorna? I have not forgotten,_ the King smiled. _Shall we walk? I am certain Ratiri and Earlene can find something to discuss._

 _We shall,_ Lorna said, and almost laughed at how stupid she sounded when she tried to be formal. _I discovered he's as terrible a dancer as I am. It makes it so much more fun when your partner's as crap at it as you are._

Thranduil smiled, seeing that she had found a means by which to lighten her spirits. Dancing...he had not done that in a very long time...but fading somewhat reduced those sorts of impulses. He waited, to hear what else she would say.

Lorna followed him out the door, not caring where they went. _So, whatever you plan to do with that son'v a bitch, whenever you know what you_ can _do, I want in,_ she said. _I don't want to be left in the Halls. He might've done what he did to get to you, but you're not the one he did it to, and if there's even the tiniest chance I can get some kind of revenge, I want that chance._

They meandered toward his throne while he considered her words, his face unreadable. And arriving there, he turned around at the stairs leading to the elevated seat, sat on the fourth step, and leaned forward against his bent knees.

"Your request places me in an interesting quandary, Lorna. On one hand, you are not one of my subjects; I hold no moral authority over you. And yet you are my friend, now dwelling under my protection. But that is not the interesting part. _That_ comes from my promise to do everything in my power to protect your unborn children. Do you see my dilemma?" he asked, in a tone that spoke of deep uncertainty of what 'the right thing to do' might be.

"The right thing to do is accept that I'm a grown woman who can make her own decisions, and who has every right and reason to do whatever I can to even the scales," she said, but she said it gently, sitting beside him. "Protecting my children shouldn't mean hampering my free will. I've been wronged, as wronged as any one person can be. If there is even the tiniest hope that I might make him pay, it's my right to do it. If you were in my shoes, you can't tell me you'd want anything less."

He looked out into the open space of the Halls before him, a sight so familiar and yet always welcome, for him. "Yes, I could. I am not here to argue with you. But you and I do not have the same views of these issues, at all. You have never known what it is to be bound in solemn obligation to many. Just as I have never known, not for a single moment of my life, what it is to be able to only consider myself and what I would wish to do. What I do not believe you are taking into account is that at this point, this is about much more than just you. That part stopped the moment he arrived on my doorstep. He means to harm us, gain power over us, destroy us, or all of the above. That is over two hundred lives, besides your own, whose interests I must consider and protect."

"You're right," she said, "I don't know, and I never will. It's something I'll never be able to understand. I'm not asking to go hunting him with my grandda's shotgun - I just want the opportunity to help, in whatever it is we wind up doing about him. Even if it just means passing somebody weapons, or...I don't know. Whatever. The son'v a bitch is beyond any'v us humans, and I promise I'll not go off hunting him or anything." She snorted. "I can't even actually go near him, can I? Not knowing what he might get out'v my brain. The lot'v you are my family, and you're right - we're all in danger here." She looked up at him, searching his face. "I don't know what you could possibly need me for, and I won't unless you tell me. What can I do? For you, for Earlene and Thanadir and Ratiri and all these people I can't understand, but who've been so kind, the few times I've met them?"

Her reply had his attention, more than she could have known. He weighed the sum of what he knew about her, and decided to risk being completely frank. "Lorna, when we first met each other and for a time afterward, one of the things you wondered deeply was why you were allowed to know so much, when you had not spoken the same vows to me as Earlene. The simplest answer to that is, at the time, I did not know enough about humans to understand that such formal promises do not really function the same in your world as they do in mine. Earlene is rare, in that on account of her background, the concept of oaths, promises, vows...these are understood by her in complete alignment with how they are viewed by elves. They are a foundation of how we order our world. Oaths and vows are rarely spoken among us, because to break them is unthinkable; they drive us on with a terrible power. If you cannot understand my words, perhaps recalling the story of the sons of Fëanor will shed some light. But with others, other humans, I came to understand that each of you simply has honor, or does not. In your world, promises are routinely made and broken...or not. And that it all depends on the heart of the one speaking the words. You have never failed in a promise to me, Lorna, not even a little bit, and I have watched very carefully. If you can promise me that you will do as I say in regard to anything having to do with this man, no matter how great your rage or what the circumstances, I will accept your word. Only you know if you can manage such a thing, and I will not think less of you for not wishing to make such a commitment. Regardless of your decision I will try to find...something, because I do understand your desire."

It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her, and yet terribly difficult. Lorna took promises seriously, too - when you lived in a gang, you had to, because quite often all you had was your word. It was why she'd said she wouldn't swear fealty; she couldn't swear it and then break it, so she just wouldn't in the first place. Could she promise this? Was she actually capable of it? Before, before he and Thanadir had got rid of her ability to go blank, the answer would have been an emphatic 'no', but it wasn't now.

The question was, did she trust Thranduil in this? Of course she did. She knew him well enough by now to be certain he wasn't going to do anything stupid - and that he wasn't going to coddle her. "Y'know one'v the things I've always liked about you?" she asked, seemingly apropos of nothing. "You've never been condescending, consciously or unconsciously. You've never looked at me like I was fragile, or a child, or a doll. I trust that you're not going to stick me on a metaphorical shelf 'for my own good', but before I say anything more, am I right? Will you never...Christ, I don't know how to say it. If you promise me you won't treat me like a doll, I promise I'll listen about everything to do with that twat. I may not like it, but I'll do it anyway. My temper doesn't rule me anymore."

"Then I accept your promise, Lorna. And I think you will like this next part. Come, Thanadir will have brought our meal by now. And we are all going to discuss, as you would say, 'How to fuck with his head." He held out his arm to her with a smile that spoke of no good for someone, but rather a lot of interest for her.

Lorna's answering grin would have been rather terrifying to a human. She took his hand, rising. "I'm quite good at that," she said. "I'm sure I can cough up something to add." She really was immensely relieved. So long as she wasn't the doll, the living china thing stuck on a shelf while everyone else contributed, she was happy.

Earlene was always a tad at a loss as to conversing with Ratiri, and most definitely needed to think of something. While she liked him very much, the sense existed that he was as lost in medicine as she had been in law, and there was not a great deal of overlap between their two professions. However, there was always Rule Number One: _When in doubt, ask the person something about themselves._ A lovely smile appeared on her face. "Well, how are you finding all….this?" she indicated with a sweeping gesture of her arm, knowing that 'this" could mean a number of different things.

The fact that a forty-two-year-old physician could turn into a total fanboy never failed to make Lorna laugh at him, and he well knew it. "It's beautiful," he said. "I wish the circumstances were different, but I'd never imagined what it would be like to actually stay in this kind of loveliness for more than a day. Though I'm a bit worried," he added. "I'm sure my cousin's tried to call me, and if I don't call her back, she'll wonder what's wrong. I told her there was a flu outbreak in Lasg'len, and if she turns up and finds that everyone's fine...I'm not sure what would happen, and I don't want to find out. How far do you have to go from the Halls for mobiles to work?"

"It's not so much the Halls, it's the enchantments on the forest," Earlene replied. "They basically create a total fiasco for everything that relies on signals of any kind. But, while I do not wish to overstep my bounds, I think some things might be changing as of today. You might have your question rendered moot during breakfast. And if I am wrong, we can talk to Thranduil about at least you returning to the cottage with a guard. Phones work in there, and in the barn as well."

That would be a relief. "Good. If Indira came out here, I don't know what I'd do. I don't want her getting on that bastard's radar even a little. He probably wouldn't bother with her, but probability isn't certainty, and she's the only blood kin I have left."

Tail jumped up on the back of the sofa, and Ratiri gave the cat's head a skritch. "Is Allanah sleeping through the night yet?" Asking a woman about her baby tended to rarely be a bad thing, even if the baby wasn't hers by birth.

"Well, as of last night, yes. It was a very nice surprise, too. Of all the times we both really wanted to have a break, it was then." She paused. "I don't know how regular parents can manage. That he can know what she thinks, what she wants...I can't even fathom, really, how much guesswork and difficulty that's eliminated."

"Quite a lot," he said dryly. "Most parents work out their baby's signals within the first few months, but it's hit and miss. Allanah seems like she would be a happy baby even if left to her own devices, though. And God knows she's Irish enough, with that hair." He wondered what any outsider would think of, if they saw her with Earlene and Thranduil - the little girl looked like neither of them, and a blond and a brunette didn't often produce red-haired offspring, unless both happened to carry the recessive gene necessary for red hair. "Tell me, how long did it take you to get used to this place? I feel like I'm in a dream."

"A short time," she admitted. "The first two visits were awkward for reasons of their own, and their newness. But after...I began to feel very quickly as though I was somehow always meant to be here. And even more, outside in Thranduil's forest. There is really little I like more than to just spend time in the woods." She smiled crookedly, because that probably sounded basically nuts to other people.

 _That_ he could understand. "I've always wanted to go back to the forest," he said, while Tail climbed down his chest to curl up on his lap. "I didn't realize how much I missed it until I came here, but this is like no other. I know I sound daft," he added, shaking his head, "being so enthusiastic about this at my age, but to find it's all real - I think the term is 'fanboy', but I'll wear it with pride. This situation, for one who's loved Tolkien's works for so long, rather demands it."

"I think that's part of what is so strange for me. I did not know a thing about it, except for knowing that the books existed. And then in short order found myself wed to the Elvenking. It does not escape me, how many women might like to have found themselves in my position. And yet for all that, perhaps not so many of them would have been suited to the reality of it," she mused.

"I would hazard most would not," he said honestly. "One of the oddest things I've had to do is let go of all my preconceived notions about the Elves. Having read so much, I expected them to be a certain way - and to an extent they are, but only to an extent. I would not have thought they had senses of humor, or that even one might enjoy quilting," he added, laughing. "And cats. They're more than I'd ever imagined, or would have had cause to imagine. I could see a great many people being hung up over the differences."

Earlene nodded. "And part of me wonders, too...Thranduil is not a character in a book. He is a person, with needs and wants all his own. How many people would see him as just that, and not simply expect him to fulfill their preconceived notions? But, all that is a series of rhetorical questions, as I am not planning on going anywhere for some time."

None of them were going anywhere for the foreseeable future, but Ratiri was hardly going to bring it up. Not when Lorna and Thranduil entered the room, both looking just a touch too pleased. In a few ways, if very few, those two were terrifyingly alike. And that was so, _so_ wrong, because there didn't need to be two of either of them.

"Food," Lorna said, sitting beside him and scratching Tail under the chin.

As if summoned, Thanadir appeared at the open door bearing the usual laden tray. The ordinary routines were observed, until he lifted the lid of one of the dishes. "What in Eru's name are those?" the seneschal asked.

"Those are pancakes," Earlene said. "I am afraid I have been spending some time in the kitchens without supervision. You may consider this to be my doing," she smirked. "Though, I do not think you will be disappointed."

"I see," said Thanadir, privately amused, as he served all of them some. There were also fresh fruit slices, and of course the ubiquitous porridge.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until most of the food had been consumed, when Thranduil spoke. "Last night Lorna mentioned having Orla come, to begin building the home. This morning, Earlene gave me her detailed analysis of our circumstances, as she sees it. I would like you to repeat what you told me, meluieg, for the hearing of all. And then I will begin listening to every idea we can devise regarding what we might do to create a vast pattern of confusion for this creature."

Earlene nodded, and repeated with great accuracy what she had said earlier, adding in only that bringing in Orla and beginning the home construction would be excellent, assuming that a number of guardian elves would be positioned to protect and to observe Von Ratched's movements. And that it would truly be ideal to have them go to town. "But in my estimation, there is something else that needs working out. If we take it as an educated guess that Von Ratched can hear Lorna's thoughts as can Thranduil, we need to understand the range. Outside the woods, how far away can you hear her thoughts, Thranduil, and Ratiri's? Or mine, for that matter? We need to understand how this works. Because if the range is as limited as I think it might be, we could have no end of amusement by managing trips to town of which he is unaware and have this appear purely coincidental. Not that I am not taking this with great seriousness. But games have to have some fun as well," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"I was telling Earlene that I need to go out that way anyway, to call my cousin," Ratiri said, "if that can be managed safely. We don't need Indira heading this way to try to figure out why I'm not answering my mobile. It might be as good a time as any to test it, if anyone's willing." The bastard obviously had some kind of sick interest in Lorna, one which Ratiri highly doubted would apply to him as well.

"Yeah, if that's happening, you're not going by yourself," she said, though she glanced at Thranduil for feedback. She was going to absolutely loathe it if he told her to stay behind, but a promise was a promise. Thought of Ratiri out there alone was almost more than she could bear - though he wouldn't be alone. Even so...she was going to worry. It was what she did.

As much as Ratiri wanted to protest, he knew it would be futile. Lorna was incredibly protective; it was just what she did.

"That part is simple, since unless I am mistaken, his movements are...Thranduil, is it allowed to speak of this?" Earlene asked.

The King nodded.

"He is tracked. It probably goes without saying that any of us humans going near the outer edges would be guarded by at least Thranduil or Thanadir bearing Anguriel. But the beauty of it is, he cannot be in two places at once. Thanadir could guard Ratiri and I at the cottage while Thranduil takes Lorna outside the borders at the Standing Stone. And you could meet us back there as well. I opined that if we do not begin behaving as though we are unaware of his presence, we will lose that advantage. He may be a complete tosser, but he cannot be stupid."

Lorna was quite fine with that idea - nothing was going to happen to her with Thranduil there, and she wouldn't need to worry about Ratiri and Earlene because they'd have Thanadir. They'd all get to go out into the fresh air and get some sun, if any sun was to be had. She'd have Ratiri charge her electronics while they were at it. "I'm good with that," she said. "Hopefully this'll start us doing his head in."

"And I'll let Indira know that under no circumstances is she to come to the village," Ratiri said. "You don't know my cousin. Once she figured out there wasn't any outbreak, she wouldn't stop hunting. She'd get herself lost in the woods inside of five minutes."

"That would be wise," said Thranduil. "The last thing we need is that kind of concern." He sighed. "We have to assume that he will try to leverage against us threat of exposure to the outer world, and the well-being of those connected to us. The less he knows about those connections, the better, though he will have learned of some of that through Lorna. That is the problem, really...we have no understanding of what information he obtained...or not. That forces us to assume that if Lorna knew it, so does he, whether or not that is in any way accurate."

Earlene reflected. "It is an extreme precaution, but I think you should not call using your own phone, Ratiri. Orla supplied us with a device that will hopelessly scramble all computer activity undertaken at the cottage. I brought it here, rather than chance leaving it unattended. I would rather you call her via an internet number. I do not trust for a minute what that man has hacked into or otherwise has the ability to surveil."

"That's fine," he said. "She'll just assume I'm calling from the Lasg'len surgery."

Lorna's nails bit into the palms of her hands. There was no use feeling guilty over the fact that the fucker had dug through her brain like a kid with a Cracker Jack box - there was, after all, absolutely nothing she could have done that would have stopped him. _Shooting_ him hadn't stopped him. That did not, however, change the fact that he knew what he did because he'd got it out of her head. Before she knew what she was doing she was on her feet, making some excuse about using the toilet before she headed into the washroom. Yeah, Thranduil would know better, but she doubted he was going to spill it to everyone else.

Lorna sat on the floor, head in her hands, running through Ratiri's breathing exercises. She had about forty-five seconds - that was about how long it took to pee and wipe, though she suspected she could linger over washing her hands. She did just that, taking that guilt and storing it away with the anger she didn't have time to allow herself to feel.

"If Orla says he'll not get to us, he won't," she said, emerging and retaking her seat beside Ratiri. "I'd trust her more than anyone else. Her Frankenthings're more reliable than anything you'd get from a legal source."

Thranduil's eyes tracked her to her chair and did not leave her. _If I cannot wallow in guilt for what happened, neither can you,"_ he sent to her. Aloud, he said, "Then after we are done with our eating is just as good a time as any. Thalion will be coming off duty momentarily, will he not, Thanadir?"

The seneschal noded. "The moment he returns, we will know of Von Ratched's most recent movements. And though you do not customarily do this, my King, perhaps it is time to resume speaking to more than only me with your gifts. Iauron will relieve Thalion," he said pointedly. The implication was clear; Thranduil had the means to have real-time information, and he should make use of it.

"I cannot disagree, Thanadir. All of you, make your preparations. Lorna, you should dress for at least an hour's walk. Earlene, gather what electronic devices you wish to bring with you. All of you should wear your cloaks. We will meet at the Gates. And Thanadir, care for the dishes at a later time, or ask another to do this." Thanadir had not stopped in his manufacture of clothing late at night, and all of the humans found themselves with cloaks made of lighter fabrics not designed for warmth, but concealment. With the exception of Lorna, on account of her stature, these garments made it impossible to discern elf from mortal, when they were worn. They also served the purpose of visually obscuring what, if anything, the wearer carried along with them.

Lorna nodded, and took Ratiri's hand almost automatically when they stood. She could not resist, however, mentally sticking her tongue out at Thranduil. Her sentiments weren't half so nice when they were getting thrown back at her. "Allanah, will you charge my shite?" she asked, looking up at Ratiri. "I'm sure we could get better at dancing, with enough practice."

"So long as you keep singing while we go, that's not going to work," he said, not quite smothering a smile. "Stay near Thranduil."

"You stay near Thanadir," she countered. "I'm stubborn, Ratiri, but I'm not stupid. As much as part'v me would love to chase that bastard down, I know I can't, so I won't."

"Good," he said. "I just found you. I'd rather not lose you, or our children."

"Christ you're sappy," she said, but she rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

When they reached her room, she traded out her sandals for her boots. Her cloak seemed a bit odd when paired with jeans and a somewhat ratty Judas Priest T-shirt she had left over from her roadie days, but oh well. If it would keep her safe, it was what mattered. Ratiri actually looked like he ought to be wearing one; he was so damn pretty he could probably have passed for an elf if he'd been pale enough to glow in the dark. (And seriously, she was never going to let that go. _Ever._ )

They made their way to the Gates, Ratiri carrying the bag that held their assorted electronics. Lorna was already pondering what might be done with a car battery or two, so they wouldn't have to come out to the cottage to keep charging everything.

Earlene was ready too, carrying Allanah in her sling as well as some other things unmentioned, underneath her skirts. Thanadir had made her boots that aided her ability to run in near-silence even further, and included a clever addition; pockets that held throwing knives on either side of her leg. She was deemed good enough with them to merit being armed, and so she wore four of them, accessible but well-hidden. Her own laptop had been used sparingly, but most definitely needed charging as well. And then it hit her, as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I will be placing orders for solar chargers on Amazon, when we go to the cottage. It might take a few days but then we can at least keep our devices powered, allowing for some more films." And what she did not say aloud was, _had Thanadir's violin come?_

They received word via the appearance of Thanadir with Thalion. And as she could not recall meeting him before, Earlene introduced herself. "Mae g'ovannen, Thalion. Im Earlene eston."

Thalion looked on her with surprise, but bowed low. "Hiril vuin," was all he said.

"We should all go now," Thanadir said, nodding to Earlene to lead the way. With a smile and her head held high, she set out, not walking too fast. This was only her second time outside in a week, and she was rather determined to enjoy it. Compared to usual, they kept very close together.

Ratiri was simply glad to be out in the fresh air. The Halls were easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, but the fact remained that no matter how big they were, you were still always inside. The forest was lovely, especially so near the height of summer, the breeze just enough to stir the leaves and touch his face.

"Earlene, practice, if you wish, as we walk. It would be good for you to do this in places besides only the rooms."

Ratiri had no idea what the seneschal was talking about, but he did not have to wait long. Earlene swiftly bent down and hooked her finger on...something, only to in the next moment swiftly hurl a knife into a tree some twenty feet distant. "That was well-done, Earlene," he said approvingly. "To be honest, for a moment I forgot you carry Allanah. That you have such a fluid motion even thus burdened shows you have much promise at this." Earlene flushed with pleasure. Thanadir did not ever give praise that was unearned. Not so many minutes later, they emerged from the trees and walked as they usually would to the cottage. It was summer, so it was not terribly cold, but there was a sense of dampness. Unsurprising, given that the stove had not been lit in days. Allanah was placed in her lounger, and they all went about caring for various chores. Ratiri began to manage the electronics, Earlene set on a kettle, and then cared for the wood stove. Usually Thanadir would have done this, but he was their guard. He confirmed that the front door was locked.

"Meldir, I need to check my mail, and for packages. Let me take your arm, to do this. I will be safe, and it ought to confuse our friend to no small degree as to our relationship," she smirked. "And anything that causes confusion is most certainly worth doing." Thanadir did not like this, but relented, realizing that she was correct. Her mailbox was very near the road. "You will smile, and we will discuss something, in Sindarin, as we walk."

If this was not the strangest thing Ratiri had heard all morning, it was all the proof he needed that life had become very odd indeed. He grinned in spite of himself and shook his head as he discovered where her cottage's electrical outlets were.

"Man agoreg, Hiril vuin?" Thanadir asked. (What do you want, my Lady?)

"Cur, mellonenin," she answered as she leaned into him with exaggerated affection. "Cur aníron." (Cheese, my friend. I want cheese.)

"I 'ell nin, Earlene. Pedithon Rîniel." (My pleasure, Earlene. I will speak to Rîniel)

"Far mill o 'ach safelir? (Do we have enough milk?)"

"Carelir." (We do).

"Maer." (good) At the mailbox, she kissed Thanadir on the cheek in her happiness at this information about absolutely nothing that mattered, gathering the few notices and one bill. For good measure, she blathered on about how nice the cow was, just to add to the irrelevance of what was being said. And to her great delight, a box from Amazon was not far from the door frame; it had been difficult to notice for how well it blended in with the wooden siding on the cottage. All these things were brought inside.

"Do you not think that was a bit much, Earlene?" Thanadir asked, grinning in spite of himself.

"That was entirely the idea, meldir," she giggled. That had been completely idiotic _fun._

Ratiri, having set up all that needed charging, went out to shamelessly eavesdrop. His Sindarin was still positively skeletal, but he would swear they were discussing...cheese. He shook his head; they'd know what they were on about or they wouldn't be doing it. "Well, if he wasn't confused before, I'm sure he is now," he said. "I hope he chokes on it."

Lorna was beyond glad to be outside. The canopy was thick, the sun piercing down in shafts, but even passing beneath them was glorious. It had to be good for the sprogs, too; while the air in the Halls was never even remotely musty, there was no substitute for fresh air, so pure in this part of Ireland. Were this any other place, she would have disliked being trapped on sheer principle, but it was so lovely here that she could never resent it.

Thranduil guided her along the somewhat winding path to the standing stone. He knew that his friend was completely disoriented, never having come from this direction before. And sadly, that was likely for the best at this point in time. Thirty minutes' unhurried walking had brought them to the border of the forest, and they crossed past the marker. "I believe the point of this exercise is that we keep speaking to each other in thought until I cannot hear you." He immediately felt uneasy about this, even though he knew that four archers were watching them at this moment, with instructions to bring down any other being that went on two legs that might approach Lorna. And yet Earlene suspected that this range was not as great as he believed.

Lorna looked up at him, and poked him lightly. "I'll be fine," she said, and stepped out of the trees. _Okay, I'm just going to chatter about nothing,_ she said, slowly backing away from him. _I don't see anything out here, but like that's a shock. Doesn't the sun feel bloody wonderful, too. Someday, when all this is over, you'll have to go driving with me again. It can be loads of fun, especially at night when there's no one out. So much better than playing pinball with traffic._

He held up his hand to her, she had begun to fade a few feet ago and had just dropped away completely. "How far apart are we in your reckoning? I would guess...fifteen of your feet?"

Lorna eyed the distance. "I'd say about that, yeah." She looked around, wondering if she'd actually see anything that might be hiding. The bastard was so horrifying to be near that surely she'd know, right? It wasn't something worth testing, so she headed back to the forest, wishing she didn't feel so very relieved to be within the safety of the trees.

 _Earlene was right_ , he reflected with chagrin. This range, outside of his woods, was quite limited. But really, this was good news. The chances were very good, that this Von Ratched had no greater ability than he did. There was more about this that he would like to determine, but he could sense Lorna's desire to return to greater safety, and he would not begrudge her. He offered his hand, and they strolled on speaking in thoughts only, when they spoke at all. It was a very beautiful summer's day, and it gave him great happiness to enjoy this walk to the cottage, weaving through the trees inside the edges of the woods.

On their return, Ratiri had apparently made his phone call, the wood stove was blazing, and Earlene was shamelessly enjoying a documentary on...no, she was not. A few seconds more were enough to reveal his grave error. She was showing Thanadir a documentary about the Nazis, and their atrocities. Ratiri looked deeply unhappy, and was trying to disregard this film by immersing himself in something on the computer.

Ratiri wasn't happy in general. Indira had not been pleased that he hadn't returned her calls, and had threatened to drive out there. He'd managed to put her off, citing contagion, but he couldn't do that indefinitely. Sooner or later she'd come tromping down here, and then what would they do?

Lorna didn't know what was up with him, but she had a guess, and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Well, his range is probably pretty small," she said, to everyone and no one. "Are the chicks still chicks?"

"They're another week older," quipped Earlene. "I would like to see them too, may we?"

Thranduil nodded. "I will stay here. Go with Thanadir."

Earlene paused the gruesome video, glad enough for a break from this material, and they went to the barn to see the fully feathered young birds. "They no longer need those lamps on, Thanadir. That much is certain." They looked healthy, and content to be scratching around in the large spaces of the barn. Soon they could be let outside, when they were just a little bigger.

Lorna meandered around the side of the barn, peering out into the grass beyond the forest. She didn't expect to actually find anything - the son of a bitch wouldn't have lived this long by being obvious - but she was quite sure he was out there anyway. Determined to show him that his little visit hadn't broken her, she let out the loudest belch she could muster without the aid of a fizzy drink. It was rather impressive, if she did say so herself, and with a grin she returned to the cottage.

Ratiri, standing in the doorway, eyed her, pulled somewhat out of his worry. "Did you enjoy that?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I did," she said, mustering every ounce of primness she could summon. It wasn't much.

"We should return," said Thanadir, suddenly aware because of a word from Thranduil that Lorna had left them. He tried to hide his irritation that Lorna had slipped outside the barn when he had been speaking to Earlene; did she not understand the seriousness of their circumstances? And yet whether or not to reprimand her belonged to his King; she had already returned to the cottage. Though, he would be untruthful were he not to admit to himself that he was in part angered because this reflected poorly on his extremely simple assignment to guard the two women.

Earlene turned her head away from watching the pullets; they could no longer be called 'chicks'. Thanadir looked very unhappy. "Of course, meldir," she said, taking the arm he offered her at once, and they walked back to the cottage.

Thranduil eyed Lorna. She had not intentionally sought to thwart Thanadir; of this he was aware. He sighed to himself. Nothing had happened...this time. He would speak to her later and clarify her understanding of what it meant to be guarded, but not now. It would serve no purpose other than to weigh down her spirits.

"Thranduil, may we stay here awhile? And if we may, can I cook us lunch? I would rather do something more cheerful than finish watching this documentary with Thanadir."

The seneschal looked up. "Earlene, I would rather not see the rest. I believe the sum of what you wish to impart to me is that our enemy had a direct role in the murder of countless other humans by means that are unspeakable? I have seen enough to understand this."

"Yes. And I am sorry that you had to know these things about us. Though, understanding now that some of what happened was directed by something that was not human at all...in a very small way, it makes me feel a little better. But only a little, because it could not have been possible without the support of men just as evil as he is." Turning away after seeing Thranduil's nod of assent, she went to the pantry to assess what ingredients were on hand.

Lorna used the opportunity to check her email, though there wasn't much in it; Mairead had sent her a few random photos, so she replied with some nonsense about dealing with a construction company. It wasn't _entirely_ a lie, and it was much easier to lie by omission when it was in writing. She was only grateful that she and Ratiri were on that fucker's periphery; their families were likely safe, unless they came barging into the village. That might be a worry with Doc Barry, but nobody else.

 _I have an idea,_ she sent to Thranduil, not wanting to speak it aloud in case Von Fuckface was somehow within hearing distance. _Orla's good with computers. She's_ really _good, and probably even better than I know. What do you think about having her hack his business shite? Maybe, if she fucks it up enough, he'll have no choice but to go back to the States, at least for a while._

 _He cannot hear you inside of the borders of my Realm, Lorna. It is only outside, that there is risk. And, this is worth discussing among all of us._ Thranduil stood, which attracted everyone's attention. "Lorna has opined that perhaps Orla could electronically invade our enemy's business interests, thereby causing difficulties that might cause him to depart for a time. I would like to hear your thoughts."

Earlene waited until she was done measuring out her flour, because otherwise it would be a spectacular way to lose count of her volume. "That is an excellent idea, with two caveats. First, that there is zero risk of her activities being detected. Second, that this take place at the time of our choosing, so that we can correlate his actions to the event. And another thing," she said, suddenly having an idea. "Thanadir, did you say he has a vehicle in which he is living when he is not spying on us?"

"Yes."

"Could you describe it in greater detail?"

He appeared confused, until Thranduil spoke. "Show me, Thanadir." The King's eyes took on a faraway appearance for a moment, and then he smiled. "Meluieg, it is a recreational vehicle."

"Oh, then that is interesting," Earlene quipped. "There are such things as GPS tracking devices. From what has been explained, I would think nothing could be simpler than for one of the elves to go to it unseen when he is away, and attach the device somewhere well out of sight. Were he to depart, we could know whence he came."

"This idea, I like," said Thranduil. "It would be safest for me to do this personally; I alone can keep any mortal from seeing me. Order this item at once, Earlene, and Lorna, please contact your friend with this request as well as a summons to come here. Thanadir's plans for our home are fully drafted, and he has made a model of it with clay and other materials. I think that if we increase the activity seen here in all manner of unpredictable ways before possibly causing a need for him to depart, it could only aid our cause."

Lorna nodded, rather relieved she'd managed to contribute _something_ of actual value. The brutal truth was that she just wasn't smart like Earlene and Ratiri in a great many ways, but at least she had connections, and she knew how to use them. "Whenever we decide to do it, we've got to let her know well in advance," she said. "It can't be done overnight, not if it's to look natural - if all his shite fucks up at once, it'll look suspicious as hell. I'll ask her how long it'll realistically take, but it might well be a month or more. We're also going to have to come up with something to tell her, because unlike Shane and Niamh, she _will_ ask questions. It's in her best interest to know everything she can, so we'd better get our story straight."

"That is why we need to notify her _now_ ," said Earlene. "So she has the time. There is also the possibility that she will not be able to succeed; that cannot be discounted. It is simply giving us the most options. As for our story...well, the truth is, he is a bad man who has decided to fuck with us because that is what he likes to do. If more explanation is needed, we can offer that he has learned we are wealthy, and that he wants to find a way to get at what we have. Or, that we came to his attention because of my circle of influence in the States. Those also are true. Beyond that, we would have to tell her everything, and while that is not my decision, it does not seem preferable. Knowing about that would only endanger her as well; her mind is vulnerable to him. In fact, better she _not_ come here herself, now that I think on it."

Lorna couldn't help but smirk a bit. "Orla thinks you're really fit," she said. "She'd understand why some arsehole might want to follow you. I don't know if you noticed how much she was trying to eye-fuck you, but she texted me later wondering why all the gorgeous ones were straight." Lorna had never known Orla to be into tits, but apparently she was quite into Earlene's. "I'll email her and see what she says. Some creeper following you'd give her plenty'v motivation - she hasn't got any patience with creepy men who can't take no for an answer."

Earlene laughed uproariously. "Well, it's nice to be admired. I think. I'm, uh, glad to help the cause," she smiled, shaking her head as she tried to return her focus to her recipe. Though, she made a mental note to go ahead and breastfeed Allanah in front of the woman, should she return here. A grin spread over her face.

 _Meluieg,_ she heard. _Behave yourself, or we will have to retreat to your room soon._

The thought of this occurring with Lorna present was enough to create instant compliance and mental discipline.

"I'll email her now," Lorna said. "What's the American saying? Get the ball rolling? Can't hurt."

Avathar eyed the forest, turning over what he had seen, and what he had been unable to do.

While this had proven more interesting that he'd anticipated, it was also frustrating. Earlene - Earlene, who was visibly with child - had been so temptingly close, and why? Surely she ought to have been sequestered safely in the Halls, yet here she was, vulnerable, with only that slender, soft elf - an elf with whom he would swear she was being unfaithful to her husband - to guard her? While the mortals were within the bounds of the forest, he could read none of their minds, to his mounting annoyance. And where was little Lorna, aside from presumably with Thranduil? Surely he would have known, had they left the forest; her mind stood out like a beacon, even if Thranduil could shroud his. He seemed to dislike having her out of his sight, which made Avathar wonder if Earlene was not the only unfaithful one. There had been nothing of it in little Lorna's mind, but if Avathar himself had taken her and then taken her memory, he might well not be the only one to do so. He really was terribly curious about just what went on in those Halls, but he would not obtain it until he could catch _someone_ on their own.

The mere fact that they would leave those Halls for this cottage baffled him. It was a tiny place, so mundane, so _mortal._ Something about it drew them, and tonight, when they were away, he would risk entrance. He needed to know why - his curse was the need to know anything, _everything_ , and he couldn't rest until he had done so. Information was not allowed to elude him.

There was nothing to be gained this day. He would return under cover of darkness, and divine just what it was that would drive these mortals to risk their own safety. Once he knew that, he would discover why the elves bothered with these mortals. To seduce one was one thing - he had done it often enough himself - but to wed one? He could not imagine the circumstances that would induce anyone with any standards to bind themselves to a mortal. And if the cottage would not enlighten him…

He should have come here earlier. He _would_ have, save that little Lorna was surprisingly difficult to locate. 'Lorna' was not nearly so uncommon a name as he might have thought, and though her accent was Dublin, he'd had to trace her through a fairly circuitous, bewildering path. She had not been legally employed for eleven years, and thus paid no taxes; records of her were difficult to locate prior to her employment with Earlene - Earlene, who had been even _harder_ to find, despite the fact that he knew her full name. There were many, many Sullivans in Ireland.

 _At dark_ , he thought, and left them to it.


	45. Chapter 45

The elves and their mortals retreated to the Halls at dusk, but Avathar waited until full night had fallen before he entered the forest.

The moon was waning, but it still provided more than enough light for his sharp eyes to see the cottage clearly. Within, it was...ordinary. Old, by mortal standards, but there were millions of other tiny homes like it scattered throughout the world. Its age might hold some attraction for a certain kind of mortal, but why were these eldar so fixated on it? It was nothing.

He ran his hand over the counter, long fingers tracing the canisters that held tea leaves, flour. So simple, so prosaic...so worthless, in any meaningful sense. Even yet he did not understand, and nor did he believe he was going to. One could not find meaning in that which meant nothing - which sounded like the drivel one found in bad fortune cookies, but was nevertheless apt.

Earlene loved it here - that much he could tell easily. He did know what a home felt like, for all he did not keep to a single one himself. Though she had presumably moved to the Halls for the duration, she had still left many of her things, washed silver in the moonlight.

She had, as had little Lorna, it would seem: a black T-shirt was tossed over the back of the sofa. When he picket it up, it smelled of her - lavender, and summer, with a touch of petrichor. He would take it, but he needed something of lovely Earlene's as well.

A search of her dresser made him spoiled for choice. Unsurprising for the wife of an Elvenking, Earlene had some very high-quality lingerie, including a bra of blue silk, with underwear to match. The bottoms he would leave, in a drawer quite disturbed from the tidy state in which he'd found it.

Little Lorna's T-shirt would be more easily overlooked, unless he left some sign; fortunately, Earlene kept lavender, and he laid a large sprig where the shirt had been. Still he did not understand why they came here, why they should risk their safety. Both women were with child, Earlene more heavily so, _and_ she had the baby who was not hers, yet here she came each day.

He needed her mind. Little Lorna's, though entertaining, was also fragmentary in places; he suspected her earlier drug use had caused it. It traveled on branching paths, almost bewildering even to him, but he was certain Earlene was far more forthright. He just needed to catch her alone, but that seemed unlikely. Failing that, he had to get her away from the soft, slender elf, Thanadir - did the king know she cuckolded him with this one? Did he care? In any event, Avathar did not think the elf would prove a deterrent, but he _could_ well summon others, and whether or not Avathar could kill him quickly was an unknown.

But he had time. He was patient. He could wait.

The next fortnight passed with little sign of their nemesis. He seemed to be circling the forest, testing for pathways. But as far as they could determine, he had not entered Thranduil's Realm.

Mercifully, Orla was far too busy to come out to work on Earlene's house herself, and all the more so because she'd agreed to take on Lorna's request. As Lorna had suspected, mentioning that the creep seemed to have a thing for Earlene had helped quite a bit; as a result, Orla was on the lookout for anything she could use that might begin her work subtly. Lorna deliberately didn't ask.

Ratiri had spent several days tackling the library, testing out his Sindarin and cursing over the damned alphabet. Lorna booted him out when the construction crews arrived, wanting him near - it hadn't taken much persuasion, since it meant they were outside. The weather continued to be mostly fine, though that wouldn't last; by mid-September, they'd be looking at rain, and lots of it.

Though she was only two months along, she'd swear her abdomen was rounding. Ratiri said it was no surprise; she was a tiny woman, and she was carrying twins. She hoped that didn't mean she'd end up with the baby bump from hell, and he was for once tactful enough not to say that she almost certainly would.

They no longer stayed overnight in the cottage, ever, as they had done formerly. Earlene missed it, but the necessity for the change was obvious. She was not about to require Thanadir to stand guard all night long just so that she could sleep with her husband in a different bed; that would be too selfish. But they had returned there, almost daily. This gave them the chance to keep their electronics charged, gave time for them to download content for looking at later, and in general helped soften the sense of being besieged that had been so prevalent earlier. Earlene had brought Thanadir's violin to the Halls in its box, offering no explanation to anyone as to the contents of the package. He was very busy with extra duties, and it seemed cruel to present him with something for his leisure enjoyment when he had so little time for such things. She was convinced that this state of affairs would not go on forever, so the instrument was left in their rooms. Sometimes she would open it, to admire the glossy brown wood, or to lightly pluck an untuned string, imagining the joy they would have in hearing him play it.

 _What could he do,_ she wondered. _Was he skilled enough to play the masterworks? Could he ever manage the Beethoven Violin Concerto, or the fireworks of Paganini?_ That was rather a lot to ask, even of an elf, but this was Thanadir. One never knew.

Lorna had made good on her idea of some car batteries to power small devices, and Earlene's solar chargers had helped as well. One day, much to everyone's amusement, Thranduil and Lorna had snuck off to town while Earlene, Thanadir and Ratiri made a deliberate spectacle of themselves playing croquet. It was on this expedition that they retrieved not only two deep-cycle batteries from Mick's mechanic, but purchased the breast pump Earlene had wanted as well. Earlene had found the croquet set at the secondhand shop in town some months ago, and in the fine weather it was a perfect amusement, especially once Buttercup had spent an afternoon tended by Rîniel grazing the grass near the driveway. This left them with an elegantly trimmed playing area, with surprisingly few cow pies to avoid. The game was fun of itself, but the idea that they were being watched at this ridiculous pursuit made it more so. Thanadir won, and Earlene did not miss the opportunity to hug him and kiss his cheek in congratulations.

"Hiril vuin, I must protest the degree to which you are enjoying this. Your motivations are of an unseemly nature," he spoke quietly.

"I fully admit it, meldir," she whispered. "But I cannot ask your forgiveness, as in my estimation, this concerns the security of our Realm and is done on behalf of our King."

"You are still enjoying yourself too much," he grumbled, though a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"I will bake you some cookies, to make up for maligning your character," she teased mercilessly.

"I believe it is time to return indoors, Hiril vuin," was all he would say, crossing his arms. They both knew she had won, and she needed to leave him with some measure of dignity. With a smile and a bow, she helped Ratiri collect the wickets and balls.

When Thranduil and Lorna returned some hours later, everyone was in a fine humor, knowing that Von Whatsit (at this point, they had dozens of names for their foe, some benign and others far less so) would learn later that he wasted the opportunity to find Lorna outside the forest while instead watching lawn games.

Earlene was thrilled about the breast pump, because now when Allanah was hungry, a bottle was always ready. With the magic that preserved all foods, the milk she readied ahead of time remained sound and wholesome, and the bottles she filled only needed to be bobbed in the heated pool for a minute before they could be fed to her. Though, she did not get too far ahead of Allanah's needs. It allowed her much greater freedom and others could now enjoy feeding the baby. Not to mention, she was now being introduced to other foods, so mashed and strained beets, carrots, peas, greens and other nutritious choices were now offered as well.

One morning at breakfast, Earlene was absentmindedly spooning porridge into her mouth when another epiphany came. "We're a bunch of….well, never mind," she said. "How is it we've had the brains these past weeks to take advantage of having two paths that lead to the Halls, but did nothing about having two vehicles at our disposal that are currently bunched up and useless, both in my driveway where they can easily be observed? That seems like a rather unfortunate oversight," she said with chagrin.

Ratiri paused, spoon in hand. "He has no way of knowing the Elves can't drive," he said. "We could confuse the piss out of him."

"I'd always been meaning to teach these two," Lorna sighed. "The chance never really came up, but at least the three'v us can. Thranduil, so long as you're with whoever's driving, we'd be safe. He already can't mind-whammy Earlene, and you can keep him away from Ratiri and I." She had a brief, idle fantasy of mowing the twatwaffle over, before applying herself to her eggs.

"I think one of the cars, with Thranduil's consent of course, should be moved either to town or to another place just inside the borders of the forest. What about Mick's?"

Lorna shook her head. "Mick's my friend," she said. "If Von Ratched knew that...Christ knows what he's doing in the village, but if he's not started in on Mick already, I'd rather he not notice him." She would not at all put it past the fucker to harm, or threaten to harm Mick, if he thought it would get him something. "Out behind the pub might work, though. Nothing but rubbish bins there."

Thranduil shook his head. "No. No vehicles outside of the forest. Outside of the forest means leaving them in a place they can be tampered with. We have placed trackers on Von Ratched's vehicles. How was that possible? It occurred because he could not monitor his vehicle all the time. I will not expose anything we use to the same potential risk. And yet your observation is a good one, Earlene. There are places along the edges of the forest. Places where a vehicle could be driven over ground that will leave no sign of its passing, and then it could be hidden with brush. We would be able to depart by vehicle at any time of our choosing, and there would be nothing he could do, for he would not know."

"Our version of a bat-cave," said Earlene, grinning. "I like it."

"He must be so frustrated," Ratiri said, with a relish that was a bit too blatant. "No doubt he intended us to go hunt him down, and instead he's been watching us play lawn games. How is Orla coming along?"

"She's still gathering shite," Lorna said. "She's planted a few tiny viruses that will take a while to turn into very _big_ viruses, but so far only in one company. It's glacial, I know, but it has to look natural or it's no good." She snorted, debating on whether or not to tell them Orla had said that while Earlene's tits were very nice to look at, that didn't mean any creepy gobshite ought to be stalking her across the Atlantic just to ogle them.

"You know, it's odd, that," Earlene quipped. "If he wanted us to come out and chase him, and we've done no such thing for three weeks, and to all appearances are not even considering him...what is he still bothering for? What else does he believe he will learn, by parking himself across the road and just watching?" It made no sense to her, and she did not like things that did not make sense.

"He might be waiting for one'v us to fuck up," Lorna said. "One'v us humans. I don't think he knows he can't get into your head - or if he does know, I'm betting he doesn't know why. He's such an arrogant fuckwit that I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't think one or all'v us are too stupid to know better."

Earlene's eyebrows raised. "That is an excellent bit of theorizing. Now I have to think more about that…" she immediately fell into a contemplative silence, the computer obviously now switched 'on'.

"If it can at all be managed," Ratiri sighed, "I really ought to take a day-trip back to Baile, or else Indira might come gunning for me."

"She's a bit scary when she's peeved," Lorna said, shaking her head. "I don't know how you can stand living with her."

"Headphones," he said seriously. "And loud music."

"Today we will move the vehicle, Ratiri. It will be yours that we move. You and I will simply get in and depart, with no warning. We will continue on the road once we get to town; there is a place where it branches to travel north. And then I will show you where we will keep it. If you are confident you can find this place, you may continue on your way. Given that we know the man's vehicle, it would be very obvious, were he to follow us. Perhaps you could send a message concerning your intentions once you reach your destination; we will then know when to expect you back. When you return, it will be to the place I will have shown you."

Everyone who was paying attention agreed; Earlene was still lost in thought, and did not move until the others began to leave the table.

"Thank you," Ratiri said, profoundly relieved. He really was worried Indira would haul herself out here if he wasn't careful, but a day back home would reassure her.

Lorna wanted, oh so much, to go with him, but knew it was a terrible idea. He'd be fine on his own, and it wasn't like there was anything she could do to protect him anyway. She'd just have to keep herself occupied so she wouldn't worry herself to death, which probably meant practicing throwing knives some more. She was getting damn good at it, if she did say so herself, though she doubted she'd fare half so well with a moving target. She'd have to ask Thanadir if there was some way to arrange that - some way to pull dummies on strings or the like.

They filed out of the Halls, to the cottage, where Earlene left off her footwear. She'd worn a very different dress that Thanadir had made for her; this was designed for working. It had multiple aprons that matched, for the sole purpose of both utility and filth. There were also large loose scarves, that she could tie around her neck, use to hold back her hair, or dampen and tie around her neck and throat to help keep her cooler for work, as she was doing today. Never having spent time wearing such items, she had not realized their versatility. She'd never before had an apron into which to bundle produce, or small animals, or awkward but light objects she wished to carry. It was like having a second set of arms, really, and Earlene loved it. Though lately, they were spending at least some time helping to work on the house. There were many elves assigned to this, mostly ellith, since they tended to not favor guarding and the use of weapons. Thanadir told her that in times gone by, the elves had a mighty army, and that there was one elleth who served as one of the King's commanders. She had been a formidable fighter, but as with many others, had chosen the road to Aman long ago. Hearing this pleased Earlene greatly, because it emphasized that their roles were not assigned by gender, but by aptitudes and interests.

Ratiri fussed over Lorna a great deal when they all shared in the labor, because the raw materials for earthen houses could at times be heavy. But they were not as a rule _that_ heavy, and Earlene was not sorry he was gone today. Just so that for once, she would not have to hear him constantly asking Lorna to carry smaller amounts of cob or fewer stones as they worked. Orla had sent one of her extremely qualified building supervisors; this woman came out every third day to work alongside them and monitor their progress. She also ensured that things like the correct insertions for the eventual passage of pipes and electrical wires went in their proper places. Much of what needed doing was simply the transport of materials; the elves had tremendous stores of sized stones, timbers they had collected, and similar. Feet were needed to work the straw into the earthen slip that made up much of the raw building material, along with a steady stream of used tyres that came from Mick's. It turned out he had an absolute hoard of these that he'd been keeping, rather than deal with the modern disposal requirements; these disappeared into the outer walls of their earthen home. It had not been three full weeks, and already the foundations were complete and the courses of the external walls were being laid. Even John at the pub had helped, when he learned that glass bottles of varying colors were wanted; he too had a vast hoard of such things on hand.

Earlene and Lorna worked as they were able, but tired easily. It was ordinary for them to work for an hour, then return to the cottage to rest until they felt they could continue. The most satisfying thing was that they could do _something_...but today the work had gone a little sideways.

"How was I supposed to know the ellith made up that entire batch of cob with extra water?" Earlene spewed at Lorna in frustration, while her friend was cackling nonstop. "LOOK AT ME, for god's sake!"

Part of Lorna felt bad for laughing - Earlene was, after all, quite pregnant by now, and at the moment rather dirty. Her usual habit of carrying the lumps of cob in her apron had just gone very badly, on account of the extra moisture in the mix. "I'm sorry," she managed, but couldn't sustain it - laughter overtook her entirely, so hard she nearly cried.

"Aaaaauuuuuughh!" Earlene huffed, marching back to the cottage with several puzzled ellith left behind, and followed by her friend who was still gasping for air and a seneschal who was not really sure what to do. Earlene went toward the bedroom before she was sharply spoken to.

"Hiril vuin! Wait," insisted Thanadir, who preceded her first into the room, ever vigilant.

"Thandir, I wish to take a shower. Am I allowed, or is he hiding in the bathtub?" Earlene did not mean to be cross or joking but at this exact moment her breasts felt like they were encased by the bogs of Erin, and it was not a happy experience.

"You may, Earlene. But I insist on remaining in the doorway. I will turn my back."

"I do not care, Thanadir. Whatever you have managed to not already see will be seen before my daughters enter the world, that much is assured. I just want this sodden dress off of my body," she groused. _Just, shit._ This particular garment laced up the back, and Earlene had to mumble her thanks to Thanadir for loosening them. Otherwise, the sticky fabric would never have budged. In moments, she was lathering off the mess, and was quickly enjoying the bliss of being clean. Filing past Thanadir, with a towel wrapped around her, she opened the drawer for her undergarments and stepped back, wide-eyed and speechless. "Lorna! In here, please! Now!"

Lorna had never been much of a sprinter, but she managed it now, boots and all. "Jesus, what is it?" she asked, deftly dodging a kitchen chair and stool where neither should be to reach the bedroom.

Earlene pointed to the drawer. "Okay, so I'm one of those people that folds everything before putting it away. Weird, I know, but there it is. I just opened my drawer and I see THIS. And unless I'm really off, my prettiest bra is…gone. Just, what the fuck?!" Her voice was rapidly taking on a very strained quality. "You don't think...is anything else in the cottage...fuck I don't know, different?"

For once, the nausea that stirred in Lorna's gut had nothing to do with her pregnancy. Earlene was fastidious; she wouldn't just lose a bra (unlike Lorna, who rarely wore one anyway). If it was a matched set, she'd wear it _as_ a matched set, not one piece...oh dear.

"I'm not sure," she said, making her way back to the lounge. She didn't know enough about Earlene's knick-knacks to know if anything minor was missing, but - oh. Oh, shit.

The twisted lump of metal and stone, Earlene's memorial of 9/11, was gone. There weren't many who would be able to understand what such a thing was, but... _shit._

The only other thing out-of-place was a rather large sprig of lavender, sitting on one arm of the sofa. Earlene didn't keep things like that inside the house, and certainly not where anyone was likely to set anything.

Somehow, she didn't actually want to touch it; instead she returned to Earlene's room, and the dread in her stomach increased. "Earlene, I'm sorry, don't think this is too weird," she said. Picking up one of the remaining bras, she gave it a sniff, and recoiled.

She knew that scent - dark, deep, earthy, horrifying in an intangible sort of way. She'd woken up to it surrounding her, though she'd felt too ill at the time to register it for the alien thing it was. "He's been here," she said, and immediately ran to the toilet, losing everything she'd had for breakfast.

"Thanadir," Earlene whispered, looking lost. She was not about to make an extreme scene; a perverted man in her lingerie drawer was hardly a drop in the bucket to what he'd done to Lorna. "Did any of your elves see him cross the King's borders? While I cannot speak to my drawer, the lavender was not there when we left yesterday. Which means, he came between our departure and now."

"If this was the case, I was not told, Hiril vuin," with an expression hovering somewhere between bafflement and distaste. He shook his head. "Thalion himself is assigned to this area. It would take a very great skill to elude those who were watching; this disturbs me greatly." His brows were knitted in a frown.

"Well, if he was here, he was here," she said, removing another of Thanadir's more humble creations from the rack in the closet. Usually she might have chosen a tunic and leggings but with everything happening...clothing that let her have at her knives was a priority; right now that meant brown elven-made dresses. She was able to get into it with some help from Thanadir, who adjusted the laces as best he could, to allow for her swelling body. He was polite enough not to comment on the fact that this outfit now barely contained her bosom adequately. He did not have to; she looked in the mirror. "Oh, dammit all," she said in frustration, removing the dress. A tunic to wear underneath it allowed for far more modesty, the dress was then put on again. Wordlessly the seneschal helped adjust it some more, and the result was something Earlene did not find humiliating. "Thank you, meldir. I am sorry for my outburst. This...behavior," (she gestured to the drawer) "is depraved."

He sighed, nodding. "I can do nothing until Thranduil returns," he said.

"I know," she said. "Come. Let us look for what else might have been disturbed." She went into the living room, and her eyes roved around. It did not take her ten seconds to notice what else was taken. "That son of a syphilitic whore's cunt," she hissed. "That oozing rectal boil on a dragon's arsehole…" Realizing that this could only culminate in more and more words that would scandalize her dear elven friend, her jaws locked shut in anger and she would say no more.

"One thing," Lorna said, emerging from the bathroom. "There's a bunch'v lavender on Earlene's sofa. I've got no idea _why_ , but I'm pretty sure I left a shirt here, and it's gone, too." God, ew. It wasn't underwear, but _still_.

"What was the shirt?" asked Earlene. "Do you remember?"

"One'v my favorites," Lorna grumbled. "I've only got three from my roadie days, and that was one'v them." She wasn't sure wanted it back, even if it could be _got_ back - not after it'd had his sticky paws on it. "I saw what he'd taken, off your shelf," she added. "'I'm sorry' is bloody useless, so let's just have some God damn tea." She was reaching for the kettle as soon as she'd spoken, so fed up with the entire situation that she wished - oh, she _wished_ \- that she could add whisky to her tea. That the creep had been in here, that he'd stolen Earlene's most prized possession _and_ her damn bra - that he'd somehow snuck past the border and back out again without attracting anyone's notice...she wasn't going to think about it. Instead she chose to put the kettle on, hunt down the tea things, and start singing ACDC's _Dirty Deeds,_ except replacing 'done dirt cheap' with 'done by creeps', because there came a time when you just had to give in to absurdity.

Earlene did not take long to join in, because, well, it really did capture the scope of the thing. Somehow, within minutes, they'd had a decent laugh about it and went out into the sunshine with Thanadir watching over them.

"This'll be lovely," Lorna said referencing the building project, sitting on the woodpile with her face to the sun, enjoying it with closed eyes. "And all the better because'v the things the village's given. I see these new houses, when I go to Dublin, big and fancy and without an ounce'v soul. This one'll have...character, that's for damn sure."

She rubbed her hand over her stomach, and the very slight rounding she felt. "I'm glad my kids'll have this," she added, more quietly. "It's what I wanted, growing up." Her kids would have enough to eat, and warm clothes, and toys, and security. They'd get the education she never had. It was all she could wish for, for them, and more. Their da was as far from hers as it was possible to be.

"Let's ask Thanadir to go look at the animals," Earlene suggested, already having washed her feet and put her boots on again. It was long habit for her; you did not go near hoofstock with bare feet, ever. Not to mention, though she'd done her utmost to check and clean, old barns meant old nails, and it simply was not worth the risk of a punctured foot. The seneschal readily assented, and they walked to the barn. It was another absolutely glorious summer day, though summer was waning. The elves had explained that on their calendar, the season was already Iavas, the time for harvests and the approach of what humans would consider an "autumn-like" time in the natural cycle. On the way, they stopped at the garden near the barn, which had done very well. Delicious tomatoes were ripening, and garlics and onions were curing in the sunshine. Squashes and peppers had yielded bountifully, and an assortment of root vegetables and greens had given countless salads and steamed vegetables for their meals. It had been such a tremendous success that she could hardly wait for a greenhouse. Having discussed it at length, it was decided to simply add a greenhouse to the house itself; it would make heating it easier in the coldest weather and would add a beautiful green space for a variety of plant life in their home. And much to her great joy, it turned out that the elves had advanced abilities with clay as well. They had a kiln, and in storage were hundreds of glazed vessels with lids that were able to hold water. This would make the passive solar heating of their greenhouse one touched by beauty instead of what she'd always seen used before...plastic buckets with lids, or 55 gallon drums in ghastly colors. _It was all so exciting!_ Earlene thought with joy, her hands cupping under her belly which she knew was only going to grow larger. Much larger.

The barn was pleasant as always. Buttercup was eating from her hay rack, for whatever reason preferring that to the grasses outdoors. Her calf, who after much argument was now called Butterbean, was still many weeks from weaning. (Thanadir had wished to call her 'gach', after the Sindarin word for 'cow'. Earlene and Lorna absolutely refused to endorse _anything_ that was a homophone for a Klingon culinary delicacy).

Standing in a corner where she could watch both the bovines and the chickens, Earlene sighed with contentment.

Lorna was content to admire them, too, until her stomach gave a roil. Christ, had she forgot her tea this morning? She _had_ , being too damn worried about Ratiri, even though Ratiri would be bloody _fine_ , and now… Not wanting to sick up in the animal pen, she legged it out the back, barely making it around the corner before everything she'd eaten that morning came back to visit the world. Porridge, she decided, wasn't nearly as good when coming up the other way. _Christ._

"Lorna," Thanadir said, seeing she was ill and sprinting after her.

 _That poor woman,_ Earlene thought. She still felt vaguely guilty, that her time pregnant had been marked by nothing other than robust health and the barest beginnings of occasional fatigue. And she suspected that this had more to do with her body being busy feeding three other things besides her, rather than anything else. Despite her efforts at good nutrition and keeping fit, it stood to reason that sooner or later the law of averages was going to catch up. And her thoughts being so far away were why it was so astonishing, when she heard an unexpected utterance.

"I knew that sooner or later, you fools would make a mistake," a terribly cold yet rich baritone voice spoke near her, like a snake. Her head snapping up, she saw that creepy fucker, not four feet in front of her. Trapping her, because after all, she had chosen to stand in a corner formed where the rails of Buttercup's pen met the barn wall. _Well, this is bad,_ thought Earlene, who refused to outwardly react. The calculator had already roared to life, listing her options, her assets, her liabilities. _You will not have the satisfaction of seeing my fear, even if this is the end of my time, you absolute fuckwad._ And oddly enough, she did not feel afraid. Annoyed, angry, irritated, vexed...yes, all those things. But not afraid. There were four knives in her boots that it stood to reason this tosser did not know of, and just maybe if she was very lucky, there would be a chance to use them. And some other part of her mind offered a prayer. _Valar, if this is to be my end, please, allow it to count for something._

"You're very well-guarded, Earlene," he said, eying her curiously. He'd heard much about her in New York, both aloud and in the minds of all who had known her. "Such a pity your husband is not here." It irked him, in fact, that he didn't know _where_ her husband was. The elves had proven even less predictable than he had thought. He bent his will on her, yet still he could not enter her mind. She was _mortal_ , and possessed of no innate magic. He would not have thought he would ever find physical contact necessary to read another's mind, and that too irked him - though her outward lack of fear was more amusing than anything else.

"What does he see in you, Earlene?" Still he did not touch her, though he advanced a pace. "Eldar do not wed mortals."

Earlene smirked at him. "And yet this one did. You would need it explained, wouldn't you? Love. Decency. The blessings of Eru. Concepts that one such as yourself doubtless is at a certain loss to comprehend." That was all she would say, as her cold expression returned. He was a tall man, as tall as her husband. Why on earth she could hear Inigo Montoya's voice in her head at a time like this, she would never know, but it was happening nonetheless. She _hoped_ he would grab her. _Because I know something you don't know._

Avathar didn't actually roll his eyes, because the gesture was far too human, but he didn't need to. "Love?" he asked, his dismissiveness downright caustic. "A fiction your people created in an attempt to give meaning to your short, pointless lives." His eyes narrowed. "I had thought your people would be a challenge, Earlene, and instead you have proven yourselves half-mad. Tell me, does your husband know you cuckold him? Or," he added, thinking this a bit more likely, "is that what you wished me to think? Did you guess I was there?"

"That is an amusing question, for a rapist to ask," she fired back. "Do you always spend so much time, contemplating the intimate lives of others?" Her hatred for him was boiling just under the surface, but she would reveal nothing. It was as if her whole life had trained her, only for this.

He gave her a smirk, though he was somewhat surprised. "You know of that? It was hardly rape. She enjoyed herself quite thoroughly." If only he had time to grab little Lorna, but he did not. Her mind was so terribly odd and interesting, and he'd enjoyed her even more than he'd expected. It had been a very, very long time since he'd run across anyone with stones enough to _shoot_ him - when this was over, and all was as he wished it, he would keep her, and he would keep her happy and content. Mortal minds were so easily bent to his will.

"Actually, yes, it was. You had sex with her after you took away her ability to knowingly consent. If you were right, she would be happy and joyful about what you did, and she is not. All you did was use her body against her so that you could _rape_ _her_ and find something good to say about it. No thinking person alive would accept your assertion. You're a _rapist_ , and only _you_ are capable of thinking otherwise."

She was so insistent, so righteous...such a pity he'd have no time with _her_ , but he knew that he did not. "The Ice Queen, they call you," he smirked. "I can see why. How I wish I could leave you alive," he said, and genuinely meant it, "but your death will break Thranduil, and I will rule him and what remains of Elvendom in Ennor. However pathetic and tiny a number they may be. Even such a paltry group could well prove useful." His smirk widened. "I will at least give you the mercy of making this quick." Faster than she could have blinked, he took her head in his hands, intent on snapping her neck. It would be quick, and painless, and he was entirely certain that for Thranduil to see her unmarred would be worse than if he gutted her. But then she spoke, and he faltered, just a little.

Earlene saw that her time was at an end with him, and out of some deep place within her, words erupted without thought. _"A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-diriel, le nallon sí di'ngurthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos!"_ (O Elbereth Starkindler, from heaven gazing afar, to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death! O look towards me, Everwhite!)

It had been a very, very, _very_ long time since something had surprised him so. Even discovering the last of the Eldar had not been such a shock, but Avathar found himself suddenly all but boneless, collapsing onto the ground with jarring force, momentarily utterly disoriented. _What…?_

Earlene knew that she should run, but something other than her own will had taken over. Maybe it was a profound rage, maybe it was what she deeply wanted to do, maybe it was something else. She would never know. What she did know is that she saw her opportunity and took it. "This is what we do to pigs," she hissed, retrieving one of the blades from her boot as she bent over him. "This is for Lorna." She drove the knife in just above the belt of the trousers he wore, and tugged it upward with all her might in a sweeping motion that finished deep across his throat. It was a throwing knife, the blade was sharp and delicate more than sturdy. It skipped over places with bones, and went somewhat deeper in places without. But that she had cut him from one end to the other, that at least was something. She had only cold indifference to the pain that showed in his contemptible eyes as she wiped her blade clean on his clothing. Fear began to come over her, too. _How long does the necklace...last?_ He could not be killed by ordinary means. As hard as she could, she rammed her booted foot into his nuts before turning and running from the barn. Where finally, she had the presence of mind to yell what she should have yelled all along. "Thanadir!" she cried out, not seeing him. _Of all the times for us to all be split up,_ she thought, running toward the cottage. If he were to somehow follow her to the cottage, he would at least give her time to throw four knives into him as he came through the door. She need not have worried; the seneschal threw open the door when he saw her running. "He is in the barn," she shouted at him, glancing nervously behind her.

Lorna's head snapped up, dropping her glass. Snatching one of her knives out of her boot, she took off after Thanadir, red murder in her heart. She couldn't go _near_ him, she knew that, but maybe she could get just close enough to throw a knife or two and then leg it out of range.

What she found, however, stopped her cold. There was no Von Ratched, but there _was_ a truly astonishing amount of blood. No human could have bled that much and lived, but there was a damn trail of it leading out of the barn - had the son of a bitch walked out? What the hell did Earlene _do_ to him - and how had she managed it? "Uh...you're bloody," she said, stating the blatantly obvious and not caring in the least.

Lorna couldn't ask any of those questions, though. All she could do was look at the knife in her hand, and that staggering pool of blood. "God fucking _dammit_ ," she groaned, feeling downright cheated. Turning to Earlene, she said, "Just.. _.what_?" Blinking, she registered what she was actually looking at: Earlene looked like Wednesday bloody Addams during the school play in _The Addams Family_ , sprayed and streaked with gore. Jesus, just what had she _done_ to the bastard?

 _Return to the cottage. All of you. Now. You are not to leave each other's sight for ANY REASON._ The voice was Thranduil's and contained immeasurable wrath. At least for Earlene's part, it filled her with trepidation as she now began to second guess every word and action that had come from her. She looked at Lorna blankly, with parted lips, and turned to obey at once. Once back at the cottage, neither Lorna nor Thanadir could persuade her to say a word. Earlene found herself in the extremely emotionally untenable position of having probably done something very wrong for which she absolutely could not feel sorry.

Lorna, still feeling thwarted but far more freaked out, set her knife on the counter rather than returning it to her boot. Earlene had to have gutted the fucker like a pig, _somehow_ , and yet he'd got up and run - crawled, whatever - off. No wonder he'd shrugged off her shotgun blast like it was nothing.

"That was badass, Earlene," she said. "Whatever it was, it had to be badass." Lorna had to give her mad props for it, too; doing that to someone, even someone who deserved it as much as that bastard, wasn't a thing everyone could actually bring themselves to do.

Earlene smiled weakly, breaking her silence to say only five words before refusing again to say more: "I did it for you."

Not ten seconds later, Thranduil burst into the room with eyes that, if possible, showed even more anger than on the day of her disaster with the Oath of Fëanor. She would not be a coward about this. Earlene walked to stand before him, with her head bowed. What she did not expect was that he would take her in his arms with a sob of relief, holding her so tightly that she could hardly draw breath. _Does this mean I am not in trouble?_ she asked.

 _Meluieg, no, you are not 'in trouble.'_ His breath was still catching, with the relief he felt. When he could finally look up, he saw that Thanadir looked stricken as well. He sighed. "I am sorry, for the harshness of my words. I returned inside the borders only to perceive that our enemy was fleeing, and the sum of your thoughts did not allow me time to understand anything but that he had attacked. I felt afraid," he admitted. "And angry. Will you please tell me, what happened?"

"She did something badass," Lorna said. "I was in here, being sick like a useless _girl_. You should see the barn." She felt an obscure need to back Earlene up, for all it didn't seem she needed it. For once, she wasn't reticent about putting her arm around Earlene's waist.

Images were coming from Earlene and Thanadir and Lorna, all at the same time. He shook his head. "All three of you were in the barn. And then Lorna, you felt ill because...you forgot your cordial...and you followed her, Thanadir, believing that she was at the most risk at that moment?" He saw two heads nodding, because Earlene had not caught this part at all. And next the King turned to her, seeing his wife's uncertainty and fear that she had somehow disobeyed him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Earlene, do you object to me telling them what I see in your mind?" Earlene shook her head No. "Meluieg, you did nothing wrong. I am proud of you, more proud than I can say, but I understand that you are now feeling the aftermath. Sit down, with Thanadir," he said, dampening a towel and giving it to the seneschal. She did so, but not before giving Lorna a half-hug and a smile. Thranduil now elaborated the entire dialogue that he gleaned from her mind, and spared no detail on what she had said, or done. Earlene was somewhat retreated into herself during the telling, and though Thanadir held her in his arms, carefully cleaning the splattered blood off of her skin, his eyebrows were close to his hairline by the time the story was completed.

Lorna was proud as hell of Earlene, and grateful - and more than a bit ashamed. She pushed the last to the side, and let herself only feel pride. "It should've killed him," she said, "and I'm hoping like hell that it did - how far could he have got?"

"It didn't," said Earlene, only now seeming to return to reality. "Not by a long shot. This is what you call 'winning the battle but not the war.' He is a balrog, Lorna. That is why this is all such a problem."

Thranduil smiled. "It may be a problem from which we have just earned a reprieve. On my return, I witnessed an RV leaving town at a great rate of speed. I believe that we should check with our sentinels first, but if it is as I suspect, we may wish to notify Orla to track his vehicle."

"He has also revealed his intentions to us, because of this encounter," said Thanadir. "That is something valuable, as well."

Lorna twitched. She really wished she didn't know what that bastard had said about her; no, she was not surprised, but still...her skin crawled, and she sat on that, too. "He must not know much about elves, if he thinks you lot're that easily dealt with," she said, giving herself a mental shake. The shame was still there, and so hard to tamp down. Nevertheless, she managed it. Somehow. "I wonder what the fuck he'll do now. Hopefully he goes home."

"I'm sorry it couldn't have been you, Lorna. I really am. I know what you'd like to do to him. I did it for you because I had a chance and I took it. But let's not kid ourselves. I wear this necklace, and it is both the only reason I am not dead and why I had a shot to hurt him at least a little bit. He may go home. But if we've seen the last of him, my name's not Earlene Sullivan. I've just made a dangerous enemy pissed as hell, is what I'd wager."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Lorna said. "Anger can make you stupid." She did, after all, speak from experience. "If he's that pissed, he might make mistakes." They could hope, anyway. God, how long could she keep this - oh. For once, she wasn't annoyed by nausea, and she legged it for the toilet, sicking up the water she'd drunk. For once, she was content to worship the porcelain god without asking for help.

"That does it," Thranduil shook his head. "Thanadir, find out right now from the sentinels whether Von Ratched has left. Whether yes or no, I am taking Lorna back to the Halls to get the cordial into her. If he is gone, you will remain here with Earlene, and we can all enjoy a finer lunch."

Earlene immediately perked up at that thought, and leaned away so that Thanadir could care for his duties. It was only then that she realized she had been all but sitting on the sheathed Anguriel. Her demeanor had changed toward the sword, it now occurred to her. A new and complete understanding came over her, concerning why it was among them, and that it had a role to play that was hardly less gruesome than what she herself had just done. Was Eöl somewhere, living yet under the glow of Anor, and did he have any concept that his creation was poised to rid the world of a great evil? It was likely one of many things she would never know.

Thanadir returned within ten minutes. "He has gone, Thranduil."

The King regarded Lorna. "Good. Lorna, if you could quickly notify Orla? Then after, let us go and resolve at least one issue."

Lorna nodded, rinsing her mouth out again and using her laptop to send a swift text message. Swallowing her tangled emotions, she said, "I can't believe I forgot that this morning. It's what I get for worrying, I guess."

 _No, it was a simple oversight, and very understandable._ He offered his arm. _Do not think your own thoughts about all that transpired are hidden from me. You know better, by now. I will not badger you, but if you wish to talk about it, I am willing to listen._

 _I'm trying not to let this shit rule me_ , she said, taking his arm. _I know we can't afford it, but…_ She didn't want to ask this, because she knew she wasn't going to like the answer, but she had to anyway. _Do you know what he, or did you...see it?_

 _Lorna, are you very sure you want this question answered? It has not escaped my attention that when you learn things that are deeply unpleasant to you, they become a torment to your mind._

Lorna looked up at him, rather sadly. _I think you just did_ , she said.

Thranduil sighed. This was not enjoyable for him. _Before I answer, I want to say something. Earlene spent rather a lot of time, elaborating to you what I would think about something like this. And she was correct in all of it. I do not...care. What I saw was, the experience as viewed from within your own mind. I did not "see" in the sense of witnessing one of what you would call 'a porno movie'. But your own thoughts, sensations, memories...those are what I am left with. I am sorry, Lorna, for something this personal and private to you being in my awareness. I can only tell you that I am able to dismiss it in a way that I fear you cannot._

Oh God...oh _God_ , it was what she'd been afraid of, and yet that fear still hadn't prepared her for...it wouldn't have been as bad, had she not known what the fucker had said about her, what he'd…

No. No, she wouldn't do this. She'd take her fury and her shame and she'd lock it away with everything else at the back of her mind, but oh, it _hurt_ , so very, very much. _Thank you for telling me,_ she said, her jaw clamped shut lest she say something aloud. She wasn't going to dump this on anyone - not him, not Ratiri, not _anyone_ , god dammit. She'd throw her knives. She'd throw her knives, and bury her shame, and bite her tongue, and she'd be no one's liability. There was too much going on - they didn't need to be worrying about her. She was, after all, just one person out of two hundred.

Except...it was a long walk, and her eyes burned, and the deep breath she drew to keep her composure wasn't quite steady.

Thranduil ground to a halt, plunking down to sit on the ground without warning. "Come here, Lorna. Please." He held his arms open to her, taking an educated guess that she would not refuse him.

If she was wise, she'd say no, because she wasn't going to be able to keep her shit together if she didn't, but she sat, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm okay," she said, in the face of all evidence. "I will be, anyway. I just need a little time."

He folded his arms around her. "I know that you will be. I know that you are capable of surviving. Your ability to survive is not at issue here, Lorna. It is more than that. It is that you still do not understand that there is no shame in any of this that belongs to you. None. None whatsoever. I will not stand by while you take on exactly the burden he wishes you to, and suffer in exactly the manner he hopes for the most. I can ignore many things, but not that."

"I know I shouldn't be ashamed'v it," she said dully. "I know that, but...oh, hell, I don't know how to put it. Knowing and feeling aren't the same thing. It'll go away, in time, but there's so much going on right now. It's not about me, and I don't need to be wasting everyone's time with something this...this _stupid_. It wasn't my fault, and I shouldn't be ashamed'v it, but you know how sometimes you can tell yourself a thing over and over and still not actually _believe_ it?" She shut her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. He wouldn't be having this issue, if he was in her place. And if he wouldn't, she shouldn't, either.

"I do," he admitted. "But the other thing you are failing to see is that you are not 'wasting our time with something this...stupid', as you call it. Lorna, we all care deeply about each other. You are doing noone any favors by trying to care for the others while not allowing anyone to care about you in return. That is not how these things are supposed to work," he said as kindly as he could. "Do you not see that this is the one thing our foe does not, cannot understand? Did you hear what he said, to Earlene? That he believes love is something mortals invented to justify their short time on earth? Love is so much more than that, Lorna. It is our strength, and the reason that the likes of him will not ultimately prevail."

"And here I try so hard not to be a burden, I make myself one anyway," she said, not without a measure of dryness. "I'm not good at this, Thranduil. Gran and Mairead took care'v me after Liam, but I was shattered then. It wasn't a case'v letting them do it so much as I wasn't in any condition to say no. I'm shite at letting people look after me. One'v you'll have to tell me how to do it. Ratiri, I can take my mind off it when I'm with him, but I'll drain him if I'm taking from him all day, every day."

"And yet this same man spends every day, patiently waiting and hoping for the moment when you will confide in him about what happened to you and what your feelings are. It is not really that difficult to understand what others want, Lorna. They want the same things you do. The hard part is whether you can allow others to determine for themselves, what it is they wish to give. Because right now, you are trying to take that choice from them, whether or not you realize it." He closed his eyes speaking this, because against all his principles he was doing something he never did-revealing the thoughts of one of them to another. He only hoped that when all was weighed, that Ratiri would forgive him for his breach of confidentiality.

At first, Lorna didn't actually know what he'd done. Given that she didn't have telepathy herself, she didn't initially realize she was hearing someone else's thoughts - specifically, Ratiri's. Part of her recoiled a little, not wanting to invade his mind, but she was pretty sure this was not a real-time thing. Hearing thoughts in someone else's mental voice was so distracting that at first she didn't register what they were saying. _Is she well? She never says. I don't know if she ever will say. At least she lets me dance with her, and sleep with her, but she's never_ said _anything about it. Why? Does she not trust me?_

 _That_ made her flinch. Did he really think she didn't trust him? Christ, she'd be remedying that immediately. She'd hoped that the fact that she touched him without reserve, that she didn't just sleep in the same room but beside him, sometimes _on_ him, would be proof enough of that, but evidently not.

 _I just want her to be happy. I love her, and I just want her to be happy._

Lorna's eyes snapped open. He what? He _what_? Well, now she was good and terrified, and all the more so because she'd been dancing around the issue herself, never quite willing to go there, even in her own mind - she'd been afraid he wasn't there yet, either, because they really had gone about this backwards.

He obviously still wasn't ready to say it aloud, either. "Is he as afraid'v it as I am?" she wondered aloud. Thranduil might or might not answer that question, but she had to ask it anyway.

Thranduil kissed her on the forehead. "I am already up for the Bad Elf award," he sighed. "I will only say that if there is one thing I have seen common to human and elf alike, it is that in the end we are all rather similar in both our fears and our hopes."

Lorna actually managed a smile. "I'm going to take that as a yes," she said, "and when this is over, I'm going to make you the Bad Elf award, and just write everything on it in Irish so nobody else knows what it actually is." Maybe...maybe it wouldn't freak Ratiri out so much if she said it first, but...how? With Liam, she'd been stoned off her gourd. How hard was it to get out three words? It wasn't the words, it was the opportunity. Ugh, she was bad at this. But...Ratiri loved her. He _loved_ her. He loved her, so why in mother _fuck_ was she crying? Sod that. Wiping her eyes, she shook her head. "Okay, you've successfully distracted me."

"Good," he said, rising to his feet without warning and lifting her with him, holding her seated in his arms. "Eru knows, this is not an easy achievement," he said drily as he continued walking. It was his own way of obscuring that to see her happier, a weight was gone from his heart.

"You're not going to put me down, are you?" she asked, though she wasn't displeased. "You and Shane. He hauled me around all the time, usually because I'd done something stupid and hurt a foot or a leg. The stabbing was _so_ not my fault." She smiled. "Someday, you should meet Shane. I think you'd like each other, even if he didn't know what you actually were. You're both too bloody tall, for a start," she teased.

 _Stabbing?_ He definitely did not want to know. "I will put you down if you wish," he said. "Though the unvarnished truth is, I enjoy holding you, I walk much faster than you, and every now and again I reason that I might have a chance at indulging myself before you protest too much." He looked at her sidewise, but was completely failing to keep a smile off of his face.

"Oh, okay," she said, with mock exasperation, before she burst out laughing. "I don't mind. Tell anybody I said this and I'll deny it up one side and down the other, but you make me feel safe. You are one of exactly seven people I'll willingly touch. Given you're the only one that can read my mind, you're the only one that knows just how big a thing that is, for me." It was her ultimate sign of trust. Maybe it was an odd one, but she was rather an odd little person.

"I usually do an impeccable job of telling no one anything," he said ruefully, shaking his head. "Are the trees not beautiful, at this time of year?"

Lorna laughed. _I won't tell if you won't_ , she said; then, aloud, "They are. Especially from this vantage point."

Watching them leave, Earlene had to admit that it felt like a weight removed, just knowing that that gobshite was _gone_ , even if only for awhile. "Would you come with me please, meldir? I need your strength."

Thanadir nodded and they returned to the barn. They agreed that it would be worthwhile to take a rake and the two minutes needed to obliterate the bloody evidence of what had happened earlier, for poor Rîniel's sensibilities. And then, she showed him a place where some boards covered over a small pit she'd dug into the floor. "That crock needs lifting up, and to come to the kitchen," she said, unfolding assorted cloths that kept the ceramic vessel clean. "It is becoming hard for me, now, to lift heavy things." The elf was happy to oblige; for him the heavy crock was as nothing. What in Eru was in there, had him rather curious. Taking it to the sink, she carefully wiped the edges of the lid, even though it appeared to be clean. Opening the lid, she sniffed experimentally, and was pleased. Retrieving two bowls, she used a pair of tongs to lift some of it out. Stabbing a fork into it and chewing, a look of unfettered happiness settled over her. "Oh, that's good stuff," she said to no one in particular. "Here, Thanadir. There are some hot peppers in here, but if you liked the Mexican food in New York, this should not seem too spicy. Tell me what you think?"

The elf looked at the bowl, baffled. These were obviously chopped vegetables, mostly cabbage, but she had had it in the ground? That seemed completely irregular. He tried a bite, and she laughed when his eyes widened in happiness. "This is delicious, Earlene," he said, fascinated.

"Good," she laughed. "You can help me, meldir. We are going to try to make a salad that Lorna will actually want to eat more than two bites of. If we are very lucky, we will succeed." There was some beef in the refrigerator, and the beginnings of an Asian-themed beef and kimchi salad were underway. Thanadir went with her to the garden and they gathered broccoli, and a variety of greens which she sorted into two piles. "These will be soaked in vinegar and water," she explained after chopping them. "The others, we just chop." It required more than an hour, to fuss with the vegetables (some were steamed, make a ginger and sesame dressing, and sauté thin strips of beef, all of which would go on the salad. Thranduil and Lorna returned with impeccable timing; the food was served in bowls that were first filled with steamed rice before adding generous servings of the completed salad on top. Sadly, she had no wontons to add for garnish, but some things could not he helped on short notice.

The only reason Lorna did not automatically regard the salad askance was because Earlene was a fantastic cook, and Lorna doubted she could come up with something bland if she tried. The fact that it had meat on it was also a point in its favor, before she'd even tried it. "All right, this already looks a lot more complex than any salad I've yet seen," she said approvingly as she sat. It smelled good, too, which was not something she'd ever been able to say about a salad before.

Earlene said nothing but smiled to herself; she did not need words to evaluate whether recipes "worked" for others. If it was being eaten with any kind of visible relish, that was enough feedback.

Thanadir was going on at such a pace that Thranduil said "ú-mado lim," very quietly (do not eat fast).

She did not comment for several seconds, and simply stated "I made a very large amount." This seemed to brighten the elf's demeanor a little. She sighed. Not even Von RatchetSet was going to ruin her day, or her time with her family.

Lorna took a forkful of salad, and tried not to look too distrustful when she sniffed it. Hey, it _looked_ amazing - far more colorful than any other salad she'd encountered - but that didn't mean there wasn't something 'meh' underneath it. She took an experimental nibble, and smiled. There was _taste_ \- real taste, with an actual kick to it. If this wasn't some form of Asian dish, she'd be very surprised. Another bite proved the first was not a fluke. "Are you sure this is a salad?" she asked. "It's tasty. There's no boring lettuce. There's no boring _anything_."

"Ha ha!" laughed Earlene. "Not only is it a salad, it is more nutritious than the other kinds because those vegetables are fermented. The vitamins and minerals in them are more digestible and they contain beneficial microbes. That being said, unimaginative people have proven to be the ruination of salads everywhere. To be honest, the problem is, they aren't quick. Good ones take some time to make, but who wants to eat the bad ones?" she shrugged, and then remembered.

"Thranduil, in all the excitement, I forgot that there is more to tell you. That man was here in the cottage, and he took some things." She listed the ones of which they were aware, concluding, "if there is more, it has not yet been discovered."

The King leaned back, having eaten his fill, and asked for tea, which Lorna was nice enough to take care of since the others were yet eating. Earlene glanced at him but kept eating; he appeared to be reflecting on what he'd been told. It took her longer to eat now, because it seemed to take forever to fill her up and she refused to rush. It was no matter, Thanadir was just beginning his third bowl.

The King thought to himself. _Earlene's object from 9/11, I regrettably understand. One such as him would cherish the force of sorrow it holds. I equally and nauseatingly understand the theft of Lorna's shirt, and the lavender, though just once I would so much like to not tell her that which will anger her or add to the insults this man has heaped on her. But Earlene's brassiere? I can only conclude that he wishes to 'sample' my wife and this is his way of saying so, or that he has the proclivities of the people in the Hedwig film, or something in between. But he did not try to violate Earlene; from what she described he meant to kill her. I should not make the mistake of assuming this creature is still in possession of any sanity. Really, I do not know whether to laugh or cry._

"Why the fuck did he take my _shirt_ , though?" Lorna wondered. "It's not like it's a bra, it's a fifteen-odd-year-old concert shirt with a hole under one armpit."

 _Eru, would this nightmare ever be over for them?_ He sighed. "If I were to take an educated guess, it is because he liked how you smell. Very much. He seems to have taken items that remind him of...things he likes and wants. I am sorry, Lorna."

Earlene's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, as she considered this.

Lorna twitched, glad she'd taken the anti-nausea cordial. " _Ew_ ," she said. "He can keep it. I don't want it back now." Though God, that just reminded her of how she'd known it was him in the cottage. Yeah, she was fumigating her room and burning all her bedding, whenever she made it home. Possibly her mattress, too, as lovely as it was. She could get a new one. "I knew it was him because I could smell him," she said, really, _really_ glad she couldn't gag right now.

"You could?" said Thranduil, suddenly interested. "Can you show me? I do not mean to sound...odd, but this could be helpful to our cause."

She made a face. "It's...distinctive," she said, rising. "Hard for me to smell with my human senses, but it's there." She led him into Earlene's room, and yes, she had to sniff Earlene's lingerie a few times. "Here."

Thranduil smelled also, being careful not to touch the fabrics. He rose. "Thanadir, tolo hi," he called. (Come here) He asked his seneschal to take note of this as well, before nodding and closing the drawer. They all returned to the table.

Earlene had thought in silence for some time. "I want to know how he did it. The elven sentries were watching. I do not believe for a minute that any were lax in their duties, and yet he was able to come in here unseen. How was he not seen?"

 _Clever, clever wife. You are so close to the most likely answer._ Aloud he said, "you already know, meluieg. You have just not put together the pieces. What was a balrog, of old? It was flame. And something else."

Her face fell. "Dúath," she whispered. "That is not exactly reassuring," she said. "Not at all."

"Not all'v us speak Sindarin," Lorna pointed out, though she recalled the _Fellowship of the Ring_ film. "...Oh."

"Great," Earlene deadpanned into a theatrical voice. "Who knows, what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" Whereupon she buried her face in her hands. "Where's sexy young Alec Baldwin when you need him?"

"He got eaten by older Alec Baldwin," Lorna said. "All right, so the son'v a bitch can what, hide in shadows? Is he some sort'v shapeshifter?" Sauron had been, she knew, from reading _The Silmarillion_ \- much good though it had done him, given Huan kicked his arse six ways from Sunday.

This at least made Earlene giggle, because that first part was sadly true.

"I do not know for certain, Lorna," Thranduil replied. "But I know the skill and tenacity of my warriors, and I know the nature of our foe. It is the most likely conclusion, that he came here at night when circumstances favored him. And should we find that he returns or has not truly left, I will need to change my habits as well. I could have known of his incursion...had I been awake. Is it too soon, to find out some information on his movements?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll ask Orla," Lorna said, though, rather ridiculously, she was highly annoyed it was that shirt Von Assclown had stolen. Why couldn't it have been one of the numerous rummage-sale rags she always had on hand? Ugh. "She might well be monitoring him real-time." She rose to get her laptop, still internally grumbling. That he liked the way she smelled was so, so squicky, yet also not surprising, because he was a creep. It still didn't explain the lavender, but whatever. Returning to the table, she opened the machine. _I'm going to regret this,_ she said, _but why the lavender? I mean, what the hell?_

 _I cannot persuade you to take some pity on me?_ Thranduil smiled and did his best to make Thanadir eyes. But he was not Thanadir, and she was having none of it. His shoulders sagged in capitulation. _To him, you smell like lavender, and he finds that very, very appealing._

Lorna wrinkled her nose. _I'm switching shampoos_ , she said, twitching a bit. _And laundry detergents. Have you got any shampoo that smells like...I don't know, pine cones or something?_

She pulled up her email and shot a brief one to Orla, including a question as to whether or not they could have something that would allow them to track him independently. "I hope he fucks off," she said. "Orla'll want to come out here sooner or later herself, and I can't put her off forever."

"You and me both," said Earlene. "Though I suppose he is already fully recovered from...me." Was she surprised that she had actually done that? That she _could_ do that? No and yes. While she never wanted to be a criminal, and did not feel she was, this whole thing existed in another category for which human laws and rules did not suffice. It must have hurt, she saw the look on his face. But it was just that; it hurt for awhile. A very little while, from the fact that he had survived at all. And there was little doubt in her mind that should he come for her again, her luck would be very different. How she wished, that he could just go and be gone for good, but her heart told her that she would have no such luck. As it was, she thanked Varda, who she only now realized might have answered the words of her prayer. _Please be gone_ , she thought. One thing was certain. If he was not gone, she wanted to go back to the Halls. Staying here in anything resembling a peaceful state of mind for today hinged on Orla's response.

"I don't know just what you did, but it had to've been pretty damn impressive," Lorna said. "I've never seen that much blood." And she, regrettably, had seen quite a bit of it in her life. "If he could survive that, it's no wonder he made it through two barrels to the chest."

Earlene smiled. "Well, okay. I think I told you, after what he...did to you, what I wanted to do to him. And I got the chance, though in retrospect I was probably being an idiot. I cut him open from his belt to his throat, and cut his throat too. Just like what we did to pigs on gran's farm. I didn't have the best knife for the job but...it couldn't have felt good." It still felt very odd talking to talk about, but she was trying.

"You tried to take him out, with the best tools you had to hand," Lorna said. "You kept him from going after Thanadir and I, or anyone else. You can't call that idiocy - that's just being protective. Christ knows what he'd've done if you hadn't." She grinned. Earlene really had no idea just how impressive that was.

"Yeah, but I think it was a one-shot deal, courtesy of Thranduil's necklace. I know that's what dropped him; he was going to kill me. Were I to guess, he meant to snap my neck. And necklace or not, he might have succeeded but he delayed long enough for it to do...whatever it is that it does. He won't make the same mistake twice. Of that I feel fairly certain. He's a right piece of work, and I hope to hell we can kill him, because he won't hesitate to kill us."

"Probably in horribly inventive ways," Lorna muttered, waiting for her email to ping. "Though I hope he wouldn't be stupid enough to draw it out with some." Earlene had the necklace, and Thranduil was...Thranduil. If he gave Thanadir more than a minute, he'd have trouble, but Lorna wasn't sure just how much. Thanadir was a badass, but without any weapons...well, she wouldn't want to see that fight. There was fuck-all _she_ could do, but if Orla's email was accurate, he might be headed out of their hair. "His RV's headed to Dublin," she said. "That's all she's got so far."

"Christ, that's _something_ ," Earlene said. "Just to know he's gone for awhile, just to know we could go to the pub or...whatever...without feeling besieged...I'll take it. You know, we should at least text Ratiri, too, especially if it looks like he's away for a bit. I could be wrong, but, think about it. Why do you go to Dublin? Why did _we_ go to Dublin? Because that's where there's a major airport. Something tells me he didn't come here on Aer Lingus. It's possible he means to get out of here for more than a day, if he drove back all that way."

"If he did, Orla'll know, and she'll tell us." Much of Lorna wanted to go home, but she desperately needed new bedroom...everything, and she wasn't sure how she was ever going to really feel _safe_ there again. _Hey Thranduil, have you got any equivalent of elf Xanax?_ she asked. _Something I can take with me?_

 _I could help you for a time, Lorna, *if* he is indeed gone. But you would not be fit to drive, were I to do what I believe you would actually need. The problem is, it will not last more than an hour or so, without much more significant...alteration. You might be better off in this instance with the real Xanax, if Ratiri approves._

Yeah, Lorna already knew the answer to _that_ one. Damn. Well, it would be some days yet before they could be certain he was gone, she was sure. It wasn't just that he had to leave, he had to _stay_ gone. Meantime, she'd order new bedroom shite, and just be sure she was at the cottage when they delivered it. _I mean it about the shampoo, though. Something that smells like pine cones? Moss? Anything but lavender?_

 _Yes, we do. Like as not such an item already exists in your bathing room. Earlene or Thanadir can identify the labels for you, and if you wish we will remove the ones you do not want. And maybe if we are fortunate, a time will come when that man does not ruin a perfectly good flowering plant._ He was trying to joke, a little, but a part of him was a bit sad, as well. Though he more than understood why, he too had enjoyed the scent of lavender on her. But this was far less important than her happiness. He thanked her for the tea, and did his best to keep a smile on his face.

Just then Allanah began to fuss, and as it was close to her feeding time, Earlene rose to head off wailing sounds, hoping no one would mind if she watched some television. It seemed like a good time to tune everything out, and moments later the cheerful Sean the Sheep song was helping do just that.

Lorna pretended she didn't see the sadness, and smiled back. While she might not be cursed with the ability to read people's minds, she _was_ cursed with the ability to read _people_ , whether she or they liked it or not _._ At least in this instance she thought she could understand part of where the sadness came from, so she left it be. How much harder must it be for Thranduil to avoid reacting to the things he read in people's minds? She had a hard enough time keeping what she saw in emotions to herself. _If I can con Ratiri into wearing it when we haven't got anywhere to go, I might get over it faster,_ she said, giving him an out.

Thranduil tilted his head, his smile suddenly seeming more genuine. It was nearly inexplicable, the difference, but it was there. Lorna's lips twisted up into half a smile.

Her email let out the TARDIS wheeze, and when she opened the message, the smile turned into a full-blown smirk of triumph. "Orla says he's at the airport," she said. "He's on his way out."

With lighter hearts, they made their way back to the Halls in the later afternoon. Earlene noticed that her husband seemed pensive, on and off, but just when she began to worry about him, he would seem well enough again. She handed him Allanah to carry, hoping the bubbly little girl's cheerful noises would help, while she tried to guess at how he might feel while at the same time trying to muddle her thoughts on this. Of one thing, she was certain. If that monster was gone, even for a time, tonight she would give Thanadir his gift.

Their dinner was a delight, and she chuckled to see it. A mozzarella cheese had been made from Buttercup's milk, and was served with basil and fresh sliced tomatoes in an elven Caprese salad. That it paired rather strangely with a lentil stew was beside the point. _When the chickens begin laying I really am going to have to show them pasta,_ she reasoned. After the fresh sliced fruit that passed for a dessert, Lorna and Ratiri made a fairly rapid departure for their own rooms, which was understandable given the sum of the day. And for purely selfish reasons, she felt glad. She wanted the chance for just the three of them to have this moment, though she could not say why.

"Meldir, would you come back here please, after the meal is cleared away? There is something I would like you to see."

With barely a glance in her direction, he murmured, "Athon."

 _Wonderful, he feels awful too,_ she thought, quickly subsuming her observation. Thranduil had steadily mowed through his first bottle of wine during the meal, and was now well into the second. She said nothing, trying to be understanding of how few avenues for comfort or relieving tension he had available to him...and the one most commonly employed could simply not be managed at certain hours. Walking to him, she lightly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek in sincere affection before taking up her laptop. It made her happy, to look on the pictures of earthen homes and...think, searching for ideas they might have overlooked or...what have you. Which was why she was distracted and not minding his movements, when he rose and brought a third bottle with him, and retreated to the doorway of their room. "I would like time alone, meluieg. I hope it would not be asking too much to take Allanah into this room, and give Thanadir your gift without me? I am certain I will have the joy of it on many occasions."

His words surprised her. Had there been fewer matters occupying her own mind, perhaps she would have considered the request more deeply. But as it was, Thranduil asked for so few things of this nature, it was an automatic response to do as he asked, though she felt disappointed about the violin. Yet, it was a small thing and one she would assuredly survive. Allanah was brought out, and placed on her lap, where Earlene talked to her about their house, always being careful to use good diction. It did not bother her in the least that Allanah would speak fluent Lorna as she grew, but she was equally determined that the sounds of correct English would find representation in her child's brain as well.

"Your Naneth has learned all about rocket stove heaters, Allanah. They are very efficient. Can you say 'efficient'? Ef-fic-ient…" said Earlene. She sighed when the girl showed interest in nothing but what lay under the fabric of her tunic. "Maybe you need to say 'breast' instead. That is far more practical just now, is it not?" Amidst this inane chatter she barely noticed when Thanadir returned and seated himself.

"You wished to see me, Hiril vuin?" he asked.

"I did," she smiled. "Our King wished to have some time alone and gives his apologies. There is something for you, and I have been waiting for a time when that...thing...would not be ruling every moment of our lives. It is the case on the table," she indicated with a nod of her head. "I hope you enjoy it, meldir."

Curious, Thanadir rose and in a moment had worked out the clasps. Earlene did not worry that this would be a complete giveaway, guessing correctly that he would not have seen enough instrument cases to immediately understand what this was. When he opened the lid, all the reward she could have wished for shone in his eyes.

"I did not try to tune it or do anything else, since I feared I would manage to break something if I did. There are extra strings, beneath, since what I read said that could happen, especially the E string." She hesitated a moment. "At the risk of being forward, I wondered if we could go to your quarters? I did not wish to disturb the King with the music, but I would enjoy so much just to watch you. Even if all you do is figure it out a little. I do not think I can learn to play something like this, but I am still curious."

He thought for a moment. "I will invite you," he said, even as a frown flitted past his face at Thranduil's behavior. This was simply not like him. He looked to the sideboard and saw only two empty bottles of wine; perhaps his King had wished to drink and rest for a time. It had, after all, been an eventful day in a manner that no one wanted. Baby and all, Earlene closed down her laptop and followed Thanadir and violin out the door.

This time, she seated herself on the same sofa as before but gave herself permission to actually look at his rooms, or what she could see of them. It was clear that a bedchamber was in the back, but instead of their two large front rooms, Thanadir had what would better be described as one extremely large room. It made sense; the elf did so many projects and...things...that the need for a sizable open floor space was hardly surprising. There were shelves containing books, fabrics, parchments, garments, personal belongings...it was a visual jumble and yet there was neatness and orderliness to all of it. Laying the violin case down carefully on a table, he walked to a shelf where she saw a different instrument, something that resembled a lute/mandolin/who knew what, actually, but that it appeared to be a plucked stringed instrument was plain enough.

He adjusted those strings to some notes he knew. "There is a pitch pipe in the violin case," she told him, trying to be helpful but not to be a busybody either.

He smiled. "I will tune the violin next. I am doing this because I am curious how the two compare."

 _He is tuning it with his ear? Oh, one of *those*,_ she thought. She had known people who had this musical gift of pitch accuracy, and she was not among them. For the next half hour, she remained basically silent, not wishing to annoy the seneschal. It felt like a rare treat, to be allowed to come here by invitation, and even the small plucks and initial tests of how tight he wanted the bowstring to be were very interesting to her. Somewhere in there the baby finished nursing, and she reassembled herself just in time to hear him begin playing. _How can he possibly know what to do?_ It was a wonder to her, but she earnestly did not care if he played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The sounds were lovely and her eyes shone with appreciation. And Allanah chose exactly that moment to spit up her entire meal all down the front of Earlene's dress and begin crying.

Thanadir immediately stopped to take her, offering Earlene a towel, but she declined. This dress had an apron, and there was no point soiling yet more cloth.

"I am afraid your audience has been diverted," she said, disappointment in her voice. "I am sorry to miss this, but I have to…" she trailed off, because it was beyond obvious, what she had to do.

"No, Earlene. I will go with you, and help. She needs changing, too."

The gratitude in her eyes did not need words. Thanadir took Allanah, who quickly stopped crying in his arms. When they reached their rooms, Earlene bit her lip and whispered. "All of her things are in the bedroom, as are my clothes and the bathing room. I am sorry to disturb him but…" she genuinely did not know what to do.

"Let me, Earlene. I will go first."

 _Well this felt embarrassing_ , having someone go in before her because she felt afraid to bother her own husband. But right now, she did not care, and nodded.

Thanadir entered to see his King asleep, slumped in a large chair. A bottle of wine was near, and a goblet. And another on a sideboard. And...with widening eyes, he began to understand that Thranduil would not be waking anytime soon. He gestured for Earlene to take a new garment and bathe while he cared for the baby. The moment she was gone, he went to the wine bottles and found them empty. _Oh, Eru,_ he thought, shaking his head. There was nothing to be done, and his life was not in danger. With a look of pure pity and sadness, he went about his tasks, making a decision when he was finished. He carefully removed his boots, and lifted his King's heavy frame out of the chair to lay him on the bed, covering him in a light blanket before kissing his forehead. It had been a very, very long time since he had last done this. "i Aran nîn," he whispered, as Earlene emerged, clean and in a new dress.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the bedroom. "If you will accept, we can return to my rooms. He is not going to wake anytime soon, Earlene."

She nodded before his words fully registered, when they were out in the passages. "He drank more than I thought he did?" she asked, having had a moment to analyze what was said.

"Four bottles," Thanadir said. "I am...sorry."

"But there will not be lasting harm?" She wished to be doubly certain, though Thanadir's behavior had already provided that answer.

"No. The only difficulty is when he will next wake. And...the feelings that he will have when he does."

Earlene sighed. This was not what she wanted, but, maybe this was an opportunity of another kind. She could talk to Thanadir openly, and privately. At least until the next time their conversation came to mind. "Meldir, is this because of what could have happened, today?"

A long pause ensued, during which time they reached his chambers and he gestured for her to be seated again. "Very likely," he said, looking down. "The last time he did this, Earlene, became drunk like this, was the day Alassëa left him to depart to Aman."

"I was afraid of that," Earlene said, with a heavy sigh. "Thanadir, we all know that I am mortal. He is going to lose me someday; I see no way around that reality. I can understand that it would be especially cruel for him to have found love again, and have it taken away so soon. And the children," she said, holding her belly. "But let us not pretend. I am sitting here speaking to you right now because I was very, very lucky. Do not look at me like that, Thanadir!" she said as his expression became suffused with guilt. "It would not have been your fault! We have all been too careless in our understanding of what this thing is willing to do. He wants to ruin my husband, by any means possible. He means to destroy all of us. And as he is very determined, it makes the chance of him succeeding very great. If he comes upon me again, I will very likely die, Thanadir. He will not make the same mistakes twice. If anything, my actions likely have endangered us all by making him more vicious, more determined. In my heart I know this is going to get so much worse, before it can resolve. But there is something I want from you, if you and he live and I do not. I want you to tell him that I do not want him to despair. I want him to seek happiness. He is the most beautiful being I have ever known, and I can endure anything except the knowledge that he would not keep on. If the worst should happen, meldir, will you make him understand that above all other things, this is what I wanted? Only his happiness matters to me, and that he be open to one day finding it elsewhere."

Thanadir stood, stunned, to hear this from her. "These are not things anyone wishes to discuss, Earlene," he choked.

"That is why they _must_ be discussed, Hîr vuin. I would have you know this now, rather than when it is too late for me to speak the words. Whether I meet my end now, or in forty or sixty years, or whatever inconsequential span of time by your standards, I want that someone to whom he can listen tells him that I wanted his happiness. More than anything."

"I will do as you ask, if you in turn promise me we will not speak of this again."

Her lips parted. This response was not expected, and his request was difficult. _As is yours to him,_ she reminded herself. "I promise you, Thanadir."

He picked up bow and violin in his elegant hands, and resumed playing melodies both sweet and cheerful. Quite some time later, she thanked him, and returned to her own rooms with the sleeping baby. Remaining dressed and joining Thranduil under the blanket, she lay awake for a very long time, hoping to see some way by which she could survive this. The only answer, every time, was that she would have to remain in these Halls for the rest of her days, never to know the outer world again. All of them would be consigned to this fate, if absolute safety was their goal. And worse yet, she turned over in her mind other possibilities. Those involved what he would be willing to do, the toll he would exact, should they choose to retreat in this manner. Were she in von Ratched's position, her next choice of game play would be obvious. In stomach-wrenching despair, tears flowed from her eyes until fatigue took her into sleep.

Avathar was unused to pain of this magnitude.

Little Lorna had shot him, but it had stung for all of five minutes. _This_...never had anyone inflicted such injury upon him, and he very much wanted to know what had protected Earlene long enough for her to do it.

He changed his clothes in his RV, showering until all trace of blood was washed away. The wound was a raw, angry line, and he knew his insides had to be in just as bad a shape. The pain was dull now, but flared when he moved. This would not be a comfortable flight back to America, though at least he had his own private jet.

He would not make the same mistake twice. When next he saw the woman, he would not waste his time in taunting - what he intended now would be torment enough. No, when next he saw her, he would simply kill her. Whatever protection she had, he doubted she would withstand a bullet.

But first, he knew what he had to do. It would be messy, and could not be accomplished in too short a time, but he would tear down all the world she had left outside of that accursed forest. And then, perhaps….

Realistically, it would take at least a year, but perhaps he would tear down the forest itself. If he could not breach the gates, he could expose them, and let the world of mortals do what it would with them. She would be dead, Thranduil would be exposed, and perhaps little Lorna would be up for the grabbing.

They would pay for this. All of them.

When he boarded his jet, he took out the blue satin bra. He had hoped to dress Earlene in it after he tortured her to death, but that was not an option. He would have to settle for some other manner of creativity, and returning it through the post.

Little Lorna's shirt he would keep. It smelled of her, lavender and summer, somehow calming. Perhaps it was a reaction to the pain, but he found he craved her, and knew he would find no substitute. He didn't just want to smell her, he wanted to touch her and taste her, and the intensity of this dismayed him. He needed her at least once more, so she was out of his system, if that were possible. Perhaps, he thought, eying the shirt, he would have to send her...gifts.

He would have his vengeance, and he would ensure they suffered the full force of his wrath.

Lorna had been downright buoyant since her talk with Thranduil - discovering Ratiri loved her had rendered any further discoveries of Von Ratched's creepiness to be little more than squicky, as opposed to totally horrifying. Yeah, the fact that he thought she smelled good enough to steal one of her shirts was gross, but whatever. She was only pissed it was one of her favorites.

She took Ratiri's hand, suddenly a bit nervous. How had she told Liam she loved him? Oh right, they'd been high out of their minds. Not exactly an option, here. And what if she told him she loved him and he panicked? There was no guarantee he'd say it back, after all, even if he did feel it.

When they reached her room - their room - she paused after he shut the door behind them, running her thumb over the back of his hand. Watching it meant she didn't have to look him in the eye, which she wasn't quite ready to do yet.

"I know I haven't talked to you as much as you'd like," she said. "About - well, this. I know you must feel like I've shut you out, but it's not on purpose, allanah. I'm shite at using my words, and until today the whole thing was too horrifying to think about, let alone talk about. And I have this problem where I try to protect everyone and just wind up leaving them on the outside, in case you hadn't noticed."

Now she looked up at him. "I can't promise I'll ever be _good_ at communicating, but I'll try. I won't keep you out for what I tell myself is your own good. I don't get to make that choice for you - but that doesn't mean there aren't some things I might want to keep to myself. I can't be entirely an open book, but I'll try to let you past the cover."

His grey eyes - such a clear grey, in contrast to his coloring - regarded her with an expression she couldn't name. It didn't look discouraging, at least; it seemed to be some odd combination of hope and fear and, well, everything she was feeling right now. "Thank you," he said at last, and the relief in his voice made her feel momentarily wretched. Lorna hadn't realized just how shut out he'd felt until Thranduil showed her.

"I trust you, allanah," she said. "You know that, right? Don't ever doubt that I trust you. If you've talked to anyone in the village, you know that's a rare thing. Even if there's things I can't talk about - the things that just have to stay with me - it's not that I don't trust you, or that I'm trying to be overprotective. Sometimes there'll be things that have to stay mine, but…" _Quit beating around it, Lorna_ , she ordered herself. "Before I fuck this up, you know I love you...right? Because, um. I do. Love you, I mean." Jesus that was awful. At least she'd got it out without it turning into total word vomit.

Fortunately, Ratiri didn't leave her waiting in agony for long. She had just enough time to see a smile creep across his face before he kissed her forehead. "Can I kiss you, Lorna?" he asked. "Properly?"

"Two seconds," she said, her own relief palpable. Kicking off her sandals, she hopped up onto the sofa. "Now neither'v us'll break our necks." She couldn't help but laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck, until he shut her up with a kiss. For someone with comparatively little experience at this, he was certainly good at it.

"Can I do _more_ than kiss you?" he asked, something slightly wicked in his smile that did all sorts of pleasant fluttery things to her insides.

"Yes, you goober," she said, and kissed him again.

Ratiri lay awake long after Lorna had gone to sleep, thoughtful.

Was it sad, that he had so little life outside of this place, and these people? Probably, but it also wasn't new. His world had ended when Katherine died. The only time he had ever not felt lonely, to some degree or another, was with her, and losing her had shattered him. He'd walled himself off, turning his work into his life, going home each night to his lonely flat and a succession of goldfish. He hadn't loved, or been loved, and now, elated though he was, part of him was also terrified. When you loved someone or something, you gave it the power to destroy you utterly. It was a risk he'd once thought he'd never take again, yet look at him now. He was living his dream, with this odd little sprite of a woman who made him realize how incomplete he had felt before.

Yes, he loved her, and it, and yes, he was terrified. Should he lose all he had found, all he had been granted - at his age, it might destroy him. It was not a positive way to think, and he tried to shove the thought away. Though they'd gone about it all wrong, he had Lorna, and they would have children. He couldn't live his life in fear of what he might lose, and he wasn't going to let himself.

The fire had burned low, and he looked at Lorna, her head rested on his chest. Her hair was so very soft - she was warm and alive and _his_ , and she'd let him be hers. These Halls, these people...it was everything he'd dreamt of as a boy, and more. He would not be afraid of this. He would not lose it. He'd spent far too much of his adult life cut off from the world, and he wasn't about to let the risk of loving stop him doing it.


	46. Chapter 46

"I want us to go somewhere else, while we can. Can't we go to the sea-side? Please? I want to smell the ocean, and just...not think about all of this, for a little while." What Earlene was not saying aloud was her deep-seated conviction that their respite might be all too brief.

Thranduil raised his eyes to the ceiling, before his head dropped again with a smile. Her point was well-taken, and surely, they could feel certain about him truly being elsewhere? The longer they waited, the riskier such propositions became. Not to mention, Thanadir and the other elves had tied in the roof of their home to the surrounding trees. The ellith were now working on binding lengths of new-cut straw into the tight bundles that would be the thatching for this roof, with Orla having insisted on a few tweaks to the ancestral technique to help it be more durable. Really, this would be their best chance at something like this for months to come.

"Yes, meluieg," he said softly. "We can go. I presume you already have a destination and are but awaiting my permission to make a reservation?"

She nodded, turning the computer to show him with a beautiful smile of happiness. "Thank you, Thranduil," she said, rising to kiss him in gratitude. "It is a little place, not so far away. There is a view of the Aran Islands, and we could take the ferry to see them."

"Aran Islands?" he asked, amused.

"That is what they are called," she shrugged. "I do not know why." They had returned to the cottage during the days, to help with the house, and had gone to town every other day. "You mean it, we really may do this?"

He nodded, feeling at the moment that her obvious happiness was worth the risk they hopefully were not taking. With a few clicks of her mouse, she made the reservation, and supplied payment information. "Three days from now, to stay a week. And hopefully Lorna and Ratiri don't kill me for not asking first. I will send her an email." She kept in touch with Lorna daily, even if it was to only relate minutiae. They had both agreed that communication, in view of what had happened, was a good thing. Because any _lack_ of communication would be their failsafe that trouble had returned, and to return at once to the safety of the Halls.

Lorna, having got rid of her bedding, bed, and bedstead for good measure, had spent much time essentially fumigating her cottage while Ratiri moved in with her. Thranduil had donated her a bedframe, to her delight; the headboard was carved to look like woven branches, and she splurged on window curtains to match it.

Doc Barry had chewed Ratiri up one side and down the other, but he'd hit on the perfect excuse for any further absences: his girlfriend was forty, pregnant with twins, and had to travel for her job. The Doc had said he wasn't going to get paid, which was only fair, but Ratiri had savings in plenty.

They'd spent the last week sitting by the fire in the evenings, and sometimes watching movies, reveling in the peace of their home - _their_ home. Their only communication was from Earlene and the Elves (which still, goddammit, needed to be a band name), and Lorna always checked it as soon as the TARDIS sounded.

She laughed when she read the message. "That lot wants to go on holiday," she said. "To the coast near the Aran islands. I love it." She'd heard of them before, but had quite forgot them when she learned the Sindarin word for 'king'. "Let's do it, shall we?"

Ratiri came to peer over her shoulder, his hands and shirt dusted with flour. He'd been attempting to teach her to make bread, but such was the layout of her kitchen that it was hard for two people to work in it. "Why not?" he said. "I'd say we all deserve it."

Lorna fired off a confirmation, and sighed when she returned to her attempts at bread. Ratiri was a wonderfully patient teacher, yet she still somehow always got it wrong. Finally, as a last-ditch attempt at distraction, she dragged over the kitchen stool, hopped up onto it, and kissed him soundly. "How about we try something else?" she said. While she couldn't sound seductive if her life depended on it, she was quite happy to grab his arse.

"One of these days, this will stop distracting me," he said, sounding entirely unconvinced.

"You keep telling yourself that," she said, and kissed him again.

"I would rather just run, Earlene," Thanadir said in frustration, nearly tipping over for the tenth time.

"No, you would not," she said. "Meldir, you are the most talented person I know. You are not going to be defeated by a device nearly every human child has mastered by the age of seven. You must be going a little faster, is all, to be able to balance. You cannot go at a walking pace and expect to succeed," she said, determined not to let the stubborn elf win. "If you will not speed up, I will run behind you and push you until you are going fast enough."

Those apparently were the magic words, because horror came over his visage, that a pregnant mortal would need to do this to teach him. With a look of both determination and profound annoyance, he finally did as she instructed, while Thranduil chuckled softly. _He_ had learned to use the bicycle easily, and was deeply amused at the struggles of his seneschal.

"I do not mean to harass him, Thranduil. It is only that I want to see the Aran Islands on our trip, and I am not going to watch him run the entire time the rest of us are using rented bicycles. Not when it is so easy to learn."

"I believe you need not worry any longer, meluieg. Look," he said with a grin. Thanadir was disappearing around the bend in the road, apparently having finally 'gotten it.' "I will give you some advice, meluieg. When he returns, do not be too effusive in your praise of him. Acknowledge his success only, then move on. Otherwise his pride will be hurt worse than it already is."

"I thought we had all agreed to send his pride on a permanent vacation?" she asked acerbically.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," he fired back.

"As you wish, Thranduil," she said with exasperation. And a smirk, because yes, she did know perfectly well what he meant. A light and affectionate slap to her bottom summed up his response, and earned him a giggle. "Feeling adventurous?" she teased. "I did not know that spanking interested you."

"Perhaps I am full of surprises," he retorted, not to be outdone, and smiling when her eyebrows arched. They both broke into laughter and shared a kiss. It felt like a new beginning, to have relaxed love and humor back in their lives. She wondered if she would ever take it for granted again, or fail to remember that there were people all around the world that lived every day with the threat of people like von Ratched hanging over them. _I doubt it,_ she thought, as she smiled to see Thanadir returning to them, doing his damnedest to not look as pleased as he so evidently was.

"I was so determined that 'baby things' would not take over my life or require a separate vehicle, and I am apparently not succeeding," she said, frowning at the disaster Allanah's necessities were making of Lorna and Thanadir's attempts to pack the van; there was barely room after their food and clothes. And that was after she had already decided to nix the stroller, in favor of the three tall and strong males that could carry the little girl should her own arms tire. Car seat, lounger, playpen, breast pump, bottles, dozens of nappies, bags of clothes and blankets...Earlene growled in frustration. "Why does it all have to take up so much room? A baby should not require fifteen times her own mass in accoutrements," she grumbled. Thranduil rolled his eyes and saw an easy way to partially disassemble a few of the worst offenders, and soon all was set right. On what could have been among the last sunny and lovely weeks of summer for all they knew, they were soon motoring toward a nowhere town south of Galway.

Lorna let Ratiri drive, since he was by nature more careful and she knew she was a better navigator, having been born here and all. Thank frigging God for SmartPhones and GPS, though; it beat having to wrestle with a map a thousand times over.

The day was a sunny one, and she prayed it would last. The weather in Ireland could be unpredictable, but especially on the coastline. If it _was_ going to go south on them, she hoped it would hold off until they'd got everything into the guest house. She'd looked at pictures of it online, and it was an adorable little place.

"It can get bloody windy down there," she said. "Mornings usually aren't so bad, but afternoon might not be too pleasant on the beach for Allanah. Looks like that house'd be plenty cosy if the weather decided to shat on us, though."

"Even if we do nothing but stay inside and play board games or...whatever...it will be a change of scenery. But I really want to see the islands, get to walk around near the ocean. That was sort of a hard thing about New York. You're right there on the Atlantic, but there's no sense of it. Just the noise and pollution of a big city. No sound of the surf or...all of that. And it's supposed to be where those lovely sweaters are from, too. Wouldn't mind adding one against the coming winter." She wanted to be able to think of cozy days in the Halls, enjoying her pregnancy in whatever way one could enjoy being the dimensions of a beach ball.

"Christ, I'd like to get some'v that yarn, too," Lorna said, squinting and pulling down the sun-flap. "I'll not be wanting to do much but knit in a few months. I already have to pee every fifteen minutes." Ratiri had already factored that into their schedule, figuring Earlene had to be having the same issue, to one degree or another.

Onward they went, while he conscientiously stuck to the speed limit, though she could tell it was irking him a bit. She'd make it up to him later, so long as he was quiet about it. Thranduil and Earlene would hardly care, but they didn't need to be scandalizing poor Thanadir.

Earlene surprised Ratiri at one point, when they were between Nowhere and The Middle of Nowhere, with another bathroom request. The look on Ratiri's face was priceless, in her estimation. "I don't need a bathroom. I just need you to pull over, I've got this quite managed."

"Uh, there is nothing but grass for miles, Earlene. How…?"

"Just pull over, Ratiri, or you'll force me to demonstrate _inside_ the van, and then we'll all be very unhappy," she said sweetly but with an edge of not being incapable of said action. She hopped out, with Thranduil doing his damnedest not to smirk (Earlene glared at him), stood facing away from the side of the van near the rear tyre for all of about twenty seconds, then returned. "Thanks, we can go now," she said, feeling vastly relieved on every level.

"All right, spill," Lorna said. "How'd you do that? What did you use, and for Christ's sake have you got another?"

Earlene laughed. "Actually, I do. I always keep a few extra brand new ones. I figure by now, the company owes me a share of stock for increasing their business." She fished in her purse, and handed Lorna a P-Style, in its packaging. "Merry Christmas," she said. "I'll warn you that it may take a small bit of effort to get used to it, but the things are foolproof to anyone who has any common sense whatsoever."

Lorna looked at the package, then tore it open. "All right," she said, "this is the most brilliant thing ever invented by man - or probably woman, in this case. Ratiri allanah, stay put - I'll be right back."

Once behind the van, it did take her a moment to work out how to get things set up in a manner that wouldn't leak, but oh, what a relief. She'd always thought blokes had it unfairly easy, so now the tables were evened.

"That has my official stamp'v approval," she said, putting it back in the package so she could clean it later. "Beats the hell out'v having to squat and hope nobody sees your arse."

Ratiri tried not to laugh, he really did, but utterly failed. "You're probably right, but you're being a bad influence for Allanah. You don't want her first word being _your_ first word."

(Given that Lorna's first word had been 'fuck', he wasn't wrong.)

Earlene was helplessly giggling, before realizing she was already hungry, and fishing around in her bag for a banana. She peeled and bit into it, until she noticed Thranduil looking at her sidewise with an insufferable smirk on his face. One that caused her to turn rather pink in the cheeks. _YOU are awful,_ she chastised him.

 _It is hardly my fault if I find you attractive and am desirous of your attentions. Nor am I to blame that you have chosen to consume such a wantonly provocative fruit._

 _It is a *banana*,_ she glowered.

 _If you say so, meluieg. I have tasted them, and I know how you like sweets._

 _Thranduil Oropherion, you will pay for that later._

 _I was hoping you might promise that, meluieg,_ he said, drawing her close to him and kissing her cheek.

Earlene wished she had the ability to appear displeased, but it was hopeless. She sighed, and ate her snack, now not able to think about the scenery. And yet it was very necessary to change her mental track. "Did anyone bring any games? I brought a fair amount of card decks."

"I brought my gran's old chess set," Lorna said, "though I'll warn you all that I murdered everyone in prison at it."

"She murdered me, too," Ratiri said grimly. "I've rarely lost a game, and she slaughtered me."

"I had five years to practice," she pointed out. "It's what I did when I was dodging Tatiana's Russian lessons. I learned more in prison than I ever did at school, though most'v it wasn't exactly useful."

"I like chess," Earlene piped up. "I bet the ellyn would too, if they learned. I know a few fun card games that are essentially brainless with minor chances at hand slapping. And who knows, maybe this place will have some games too. Or jigsaw puzzles." Thanadir had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. "Are you well, meldir?" she asked softly.

"I am enjoying the scenery," he said, taking the hand she offered. "And remembering a time when all of this land was forest."

Earlene laced her fingers in his, wondering something she had never wondered before. Sure, the English and whoever else had cut down all the old forests. But why in hell had no one ever replanted the trees? By rights this country could be covered in trees inside of twenty years. She sighed, shaking her head. Really she knew nothing about the ecology here, only that in the States, in some places they'd restored what had been lost.

Chess and Tatiana gave Lorna a thought, but she tucked it away for now. No point spoiling this before it began. "Little place on the coast? I'm sure they've got loads. And it looks in the pictures like there's plenty'v room for Allanah to play." Baby-proofing it might prove tough, but not _too_ tough.

Ratiri pulled off at the right exit, out into the back of beyond. The village was so tiny it made Lasg'len and Baile look like metropolises, the buildings brightly painted - probably necessary, in a grey Irish winter. Lorna loved her country, but at times it could be undeniably bleak, especially around the middle of February. "Jesus, will you look at this place," she said, when they pulled up to it. It was every bit as adorable as the pictures had shown - white stucco and blue trim, with warm light shining from all the windows.

The proprietors met them as scheduled and introduced themselves. If they were surprised by the motley appearance of the group, they hid it well. A house key was handed over, and they were shown inside and told of the amenities. They lived quite close by, should there be any problems, and they were delighted to meet Allanah. The place was cheery inside, with brightly toned woods all through the kitchen and beautiful picture window views of the ocean. They were very soon engaged in the business of unpacking their things and deciding how to allocate the three bedrooms. Which was really not so complex; two of the rooms had much larger beds, whereas a third had beds that were, while still quite nice, clearly more suited to single persons. Thanadir unhesitatingly claimed that one for himself. To everyone's unspoken relief, all the bedrooms were scattered throughout the house and not wall to wall. _With a little care, private activities might remain exactly that_ , Earlene smiled to herself. She busied herself with setting up Allanah's things while Thanadir lit a fire in the wood stove. The little girl had entered the 'worm' phase this last week, scooting along in some manner of locomotion that could not exactly be called a crawl but was more or less done on her belly. In moments her playpen was set up so that she could safely indulge herself while the adults continued to settle in.

Earlene wasn't the only one who'd noticed the bedroom situation; Lorna grinned when she saw the rooms. She had fast discovered that having a lover as tall as Ratiri when you were as short as she was required a few interesting gymnastics that were not necessarily quiet (or successful. They'd fallen off the bed more than once at her cottage.)

"Such a view it's got, on a nice day," she said, looking out the window of the sitting room. It was every bit as cosy as she'd hoped, too; even if the weather turned to shit, they could enjoy the indoors. There weren't many things to be collected and put out of Allanah's reach, either; plenty of board games that were easily switched to higher shelves.

"I could stay here a month," Ratiri said, leaning back in his chair and sighing with relief. Being off the road was more wonderful than he was going to let on, given the strain the drive had taken on his nerves. He wasn't _quite_ as bad about it as Lorna was, but it went against his nature.

Everyone wisely stayed out of Earlene's way as she set up her foods and equipment in the kitchen; she did not travel without her food processor. Here there would be no elven luxuries; things like refrigeration would need to be minded. They'd take some meals in the nearby village, but she had also planned a meticulous variety of menus for a few nice dinners that would yield easy leftovers. Taking no chances, she'd brought along what had been jokingly christened The Pot by her friends in New York. It had belonged to gran, who had given it over as a present to Earlene after graduation from her bachelor's degree and when she'd moved into her home in Queens. It was a generally indestructible stainless-steel affair of high quality, that in its day had cost dearly. Heavy bottomed, and according to gran, able to feed the Tuatha dé Danann for how much soup it could hold. With a fond smile, Earlene placed it on the stove and sorted her meats and vegetables. She hoped a worthy fish could be procured in town; this _was_ the coast after all. They'd also brought breads, lunch meats, cheeses. Even a few bags of crisps, though mostly she didn't go in for such things. Earlene immediately set about making spice cookies for Thanadir. It was early afternoon, and no one was hungry for all they'd eaten just before leaving.

"You need to learn to make bread while we're here," Ratiri said, pulling Lorna onto his lap. "Maybe a change of scenery will help."

She laughed, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm not sure _anything_ can help," she said. "I swear the dough sees it's me and then decides to go into revolt. It'd behave if it was you. There's other things I know how to cook."

"Yes, but now it's a personal mission," he said. "I won't fail as a teacher. You'll be a successful apprentice, padawan."

"Nerd," she said fondly, poking him in the ribs.

"Guilty," he admitted freely.

A wheezing, or perhaps it was a coughing sort of sound came from the kitchen at the mention of learning to bake bread. It had been the best Earlene could do to not completely erupt in laughter at learning there were _two_ bread-challenged among them. She genuinely did not want to hurt Thanadir's feelings, so having a nice bronchial cough and then heading to the sink for a glass of water was the best dissembling she could do.

"You okay in there?" Lorna asked, sitting up a bit. "You need a lozenge or something?"

"We're all just fine," she said, clearing her throat. Truthfully, she'd intended to make more than one batch of biscuits, and they'd better stay out of her flour supply. Bread for her was usually a slow-fermentation, two or three day multi-grain affair concerning which she somehow doubted Ratiri could approach her level of nerdiness. Thranduil smirked at his wife while he looked out the window, and Thanadir looked with confusion at the box marked "Jigsaw Puzzle."

"Here," Lorna said, rising from her human perch with some reluctance. "Go on and dump it out on the floor -" he did so "- and sort out these little pieces. They all fit together to make this picture on the front'v the box, but no two're the same shape. It's best to start with the edges." She hunted down a corner, and then a piece that went with it, snapping them together. "Some people, if they've got a big, complex one, will frame it when they're done, I guess because why put so much work into something you're just going to pick apart?"

The old elf looked from the picture, to the mess of pieces, to the picture, and was instantly enthralled with the challenge. Thranduil looked over with an expression that amounted to "we've lost him." And indeed, the pieces were already being ordered by color and other subcategories of organization known only to Thanadir. Forty-five minutes later, Earlene placed a plate of freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk on the floor near the puzzle, and the cuteness was complete. He laid on his belly, propped up on his elbows and with his long shins bent up at the knees, ankles crossed; the sight was captivating. Unseen by the seneschal, both women silently snapped pictures of him munching the cookies, with the puzzle in the foreground.

Ratiri bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if Thanadir knew just how adorable both women found him. It was yet another preconception down the loo, too - had you asked him even a month ago to picture an Elf laying on the floor doing a puzzle while eating cookies and milk, he would have been utterly incapable. Thanadir was such an odd combination of propriety and a wonder that could occasionally seem almost...not childlike, not that, but similar. When he discovered something new, his reaction was as real and raw as that of a child.

His ruminations were interrupted by Lorna, who came and sat on his lap again. She was getting heavier, but that just meant she weighed more than a wet cat. He didn't think she knew that she occasionally had nightmares - she was so crap a liar that she couldn't have kept it from him if she did - but they'd tapered off in the last week, for which he was grateful. She _did_ have a tendency to not so much sleepwalk as sleep _talk_ ; she'd sound and look fully awake, and the only reason he knew otherwise was because they would be having two entirely separate conversations. It had creeped him right the hell out the first time it happened, but Mairead said she'd always done it. Evidently it ran in the family.

Earlene took Allanah out of her playpen to let her explore the floor, such as it was, purposefully putting her down out of sight of Thanadir. There was hardwood floor and an area rug too, which should give her a healthy dose of new germs, she reasoned. This all seemed good for about ten minutes, in which she had to take the rug tassels out of her mouth at least five times when suddenly she felt so tired.

"Let me, meluieg. I will take a blanket and take her for a walk outside." There was a stiff and cool wind blowing, making the air a little chilly. Earlene nodded at him gratefully, slumping onto the sofa. With raised eyebrows, she looked at her feet. Were they a bit swollen? _No. They are not, whether or not they are,_ she said to herself with annoyance. But that did not stop her from slipping off her clogs and putting her feet up on the sofa, with a sigh of relief. It just felt so damn good, anymore, to be on her back for a bit, where gravity wasn't using her boobs and her belly to reconfigure her spine.

"Does anybody want tea?" Lorna asked, figuring she'd make some anyway. It was to her pride that the Irish actually drank quite a bit more tea than the bloody English; the joke was that if you didn't have fifteen cups a day, you got your license taken away. "And yes, Ratiri, it's herbal."

Earlene raised her hand and waved it about. "Meeeeeeee."

"Coming right up," Lorna said.

"I know I worry too much," he said, setting her on her feet. "Indulge me."

"I already do," she said, giving him a smirk as he followed her into the kitchen. Of course all the tea things were in the last places she'd expect, but she got the kettle on. Poor Earlene and her stomach...Lorna would get there in time, she was sure, though at the moment she still had no tits. Oh well. She'd rather have none than deal with what poor Earlene was stuck with. It was far too early for her to feel the twins moving, but she rubbed her hand over her stomach anyway. "When all this shite's over - when they're old enough to understand - I want to take them to Scotland. I want them to see where you grew up. You've said so little'v it."

"There wasn't much to say," he said. "I was a lonely boy who daydreamed a lot, with parents that fought like demons but loved each other anyway, and made sure I knew I was loved, too, even if the rest of the world didn't quite know what to do with me. I didn't do the sorts of mad things you did...until I was in my twenties, anyway. My gap year, it was...special."

"You only pretend to be respectable," she said, filling the cream pot with milk. "I'm on to you, Mister. You'd still go snowmobiling with a Boba Fett helmet. Don't lie."

"Maybe," he said, with a failed attempt at sounding noncommittal. "I just wouldn't crash this time. Did I mention I hit a tree?"

Lorna burst out laughing, leaning against the counter to support herself. "No," she said, "no you didn't. You just said your friend crashed."

"It was more of a glance, really. Didn't even knock me off my snowmobile."

She rose up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek just as the kettle began to scream. By now she knew how everyone took their tea, so she fixed it up and carried the tray out to the lounge. "I come bearing the elixir'v life," she said, and reflected that Ratiri's speech patterns really were rubbing off on her to a slightly appalling degree.

They all enjoyed their tea, while Earlene lazily looked over at the floor and the puzzle and…. _seriously?_ Learning forward just a little more gave her a view of the box. While it was only a 250 piece puzzle, it still should be taking more than...had it even been a total of sixty minutes? _Good grief, Thanadir._

A few seconds later a cry of frustration came from the seneschal.

"What is wrong, meldir?" she asked. _How could he be upset, when he'd like as not set some world puzzle speed record?_

"It is missing a piece...I cannot finish it?" He looked stricken.

"There's always one," Lorna said, turning up the cushions on the chairs. There was surprisingly little to be found - just some random coins and a couple of marbles - but under the second was the missing piece, and she held it up triumphantly before handing it to Thanadir. "Now you can."

Thanadir looked at Lorna as if she had the powers of the Valar. "How could you possibly know where something so small was?" he asked, happily accepting it.

"Sofas and armchairs tend to eat things like this," she said. "Once Allanah's doing more than inchworming, you'll find all sorts. Marbles, keys, cat toys, random wads'v tinfoil, but there's always that one missing piece, and if it's not in a sofa, it's somehow under a fridge." Christ but he was cute. Without explanation, she snapped his picture with her phone, intent on putting it in the scrapbooks.

"Thank you, Lorna. It would have…bothered me a great deal, to leave it unfinished." With immense satisfaction, he admired the puzzle on the floor, only just beginning to work out that it would be in everyone's way and that there was no simple means by which to move it elsewhere. Another frown clouded his face as he stood up.

"Don't worry," she said, following his gaze. "I'm old hand at this bit." Carefully folding the corners of the box flat, she slid it underneath the puzzle, bit by bit, keeping the pieces locked together. Just as carefully she lifted it up, and gingerly handed it to him. "There. Still in one piece."

With a beautiful smile, he asked for it to be placed on the large coffee table, at least for now. It needed appreciating.

Lorna and Ratiri had both lived alone for years - Lorna for five, Ratiri for fifteen. Both were rather set in their ways, and both were also now sharing a rather small cottage. In the interest of not eventually wanting to murder one another, they had a system so that each could have some 'alone time'. It was a system that worked better in summer than it would in winter, when nobody would want to be going for many walks in the forest behind the cottage, but it worked for now. (They also now had two refrigerators, because both had their own system for stocking one, and they were not alike. The second fridge occupied the room with the water heater, safe out of the way.) The original fridge couldn't have held enough food for two people anyway, so it was a double win.

He was grateful that Lorna was pragmatic enough to realize their life together wouldn't be sunshine and roses without effort, but though she could be irreverent and occasionally a touch immature, she was at heart a pragmatist. The irreverence and the bouts of immaturity were things he loved about her, but they were not the whole of her. She cared with an intensity that was sometimes as ferocious as it could be awkward. Given that Indira had given him the label the Mom Friend, it was no wonder they got on so well - the Mom Friend apparently being the worry-wart who looked after everyone, whether they liked it or not. And he _was_ the Mom Friend, no matter what he tried, so he'd given in and embraced it. He had little doubt he drove Lorna and Earlene half mad, but that was just what Mom Friends did.

Every other day or so, one of them would take a walk, while the other got the cottage to themselves. It wouldn't be long before Ratiri would be the one who was always taking the walk, unless Lorna wanted to go with an escort, just because once she had the baby bump from hell she wasn't going to enjoy it much.

In any event, once the tea was drunk, Ratiri meandered out into the green fields. He'd never yet been in such close quarters with all of them, and especially not for a week. He was self-aware enough to realize that Lorna wasn't the only one who had trouble communicating with others; it largely came from having lived alone for so long, but that wasn't the entirety of it. At work, he was competence personified, but in his personal life he'd had a tendency to put his foot in it. The fact that he was naturally shy hadn't helped matters.

Lorna had been helping, he thought, as he watched a horse trot up to the fence to visit. Watching her attempts had made it somewhat easier for him - she wasn't good at it, but she tried, and he didn't attempt to make her spit out every little thing. When she'd told him she needed to re-paint and rearrange their bedroom, he hadn't needed to ask why, but later she'd told him that even though she didn't remember what had happened in there, that room as it was had become a horror for her.

He'd tried to imagine what it would be like to be raped and not know about it, which had been awful enough, but eventually she'd broken down and told him that not only had she evidently been made to enjoy it, Thranduil had seen the whole thing in her memory. Had experienced it, and even though he could compartmentalize it, it had still been humiliating at first. He'd been so horrified they'd both gone for a walk, watching the sunset through the trees. She'd also explained why she'd asked him to use lavender shampoo, a request that had baffled him until she told him of Von Ratched and his creepy fetish.

But now they were here, with Thranduil and Earlene and Thanadir, and he could only ask so many questions about history and Sindarin and babies. And he couldn't even relax with a glass of Guinness, because he would never be that mean to the alcohol-deprived ladies in the group. He trusted them not to judge him if his efforts were terrible; everyone had to start somewhere. At the very least, if they were going to laugh at him, at least they'd do it in private.

What was he, now? Thranduil rendered all his skills and education moot, a fact he tried not to think about too often. The fabric of what he did was now superfluous, and unlike Lorna, he had no defined task. Did he have any place among them on his own merits? What did he have to offer in his own right? He wasn't stupid; he knew they wouldn't have let him in on all this if not for his and Lorna's interest in one another. Was he one of them, or was he a hanger-on?

It was not a question he wished to ask, but in the interest of that damnable communication, he probably ought to. He'd get an honest answer, which was why he wouldn't be asking it until they were home again.

Thranduil strolled in the distance, a striking figure with his long silken hair caught in the ocean breeze, carrying a baby with a polka-dotted blanket. Earlene smiled to see him through the French doors; he at least appeared to be enjoying himself. It occurred to her, how little time alone her husband ever managed to have. She'd done without a great deal of it since they came together, and while there were moments of blissful isolation, they were infrequent. That and, with time spent in the Realm….she was never really alone, was she? _Unless Thanadir is lurking in my mind, I'm actually not being overheard right now,_ she realized, shaking her head. While mostly she loved her life, and assuredly would want no other, it was not without sacrifices.

Ratiri, now thoroughly chilled, just about sighed with relief when he entered the warmth of the house. It was Lorna's turn to wander off into the breeze, after a swift kiss. The lovely green wool coat her Gran had made her still buttoned over her abdomen, and it fluttered rather like a cloak as she stepped outside.

He went to sit in her vacated chair, admiring the puzzle - naturally, Thanadir had put it together faster than most people would have. "It feels like Scotland out there," he said. "I've missed the wind, even if my ears _do_ feel like they're about to fall off."

"It's a lot like New York," said Earlene wistfully. "And come to think of it, past the Aran Islands, the next stop arguably _is_ New York, or one of the other eastern seaboard cities. It's part of why I am so glad Thranduil consented to come here. I miss that smell, the feel of the wind. It really doesn't ever seem to get to the forest, for whatever reason."

"I want to say it's some feature of the topography," he said, unlacing his boots, "but the answer is more than likely 'magic'." Prying the footwear off, he eyed her curiously. He wasn't at all sure how to ask this without sounding rude, but he was curious nonetheless. "You haven't got to answer this if you don't want to," he said, "but exactly how does being part of the Elves' monarchy work? I only know about historical human monarchies, and not much at that. Do you…" Oh, hell, might as well go for broke, "do you really have to do everything he tells you, and can't do anything he tells you not to?" He had to admit, though he would never say this aloud, that he couldn't understand the appeal.

Earlene tilted her head, evaluating what she knew of Ratiri, deciding how to frame her answer. And honestly, she felt like she wanted a little more information. "I'm a little sensitive about answering that, but not for the reasons you might think. How to say this…" she briefly raised her eyes up to the ceiling. "I've no problem talking about it, in fact I'll talk about it until you wish I wouldn't, left to my own devices. But I'm very aware, from what I've sensed from Lorna, that others think I'm out of my tree for the decision I made. And that's the hard part. I've made a choice that means the world to me, but to others, I can see it written on their faces that they feel it was a shite thing to do and generally incomprehensible. And that's the part that makes it hard. I'm human, and no one likes to feel judged for what they wanted in their heart." Her eyes bored into his, because if he couldn't understand the unspoken question in her words, he sure as hell wouldn't understand the answer to his question. Thanadir remained silent, but his full attention was now on this conversation.

"Lorna is Irish, and has been in prison," he pointed out. "She is never going to be able to understand it. Hatred of monarchy is practically built into her genetic code, and she's only had what, six months to get over it? It's testament to how much she likes you all that she's managed as much as she has. I'm just...curious. Elves aren't humans - it's not like you joined up with Bloody Mary Tudor. You wouldn't have done it if you didn't want to, and you're a smart woman. I can't imagine you walked into this blind; you made a conscious choice, but I don't know you well enough to guess why - not that I like guessing anyone's motivations," he added, a little dryly. "I know I'm not the most socially adept human being in the world."

Smiling, she felt better. "Please don't think I hold how Lorna feels against her. I don't. It's just that sometimes, you want to feel fully accepted and it is simply reality that it can't always work out that way. I guess you could call it an emotional reality running headlong into an intellectual imperative. But anyway. How it works. The vows I made to Thranduil were as follows; three statements to which I responded in the affirmative. She recited slowly: 'Will you pledge to serve your King, Thranduil son of Oropher, ruler of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Lasgalen, and to obey his laws and commands? Will you pledge to honor him in your heart, accept his justice for disobedience, and continue as a subject of his rule, forsaking all other authority? Will you freely give yourself to him, and promise your fealty to his throne, until death takes you?' "

Earlene paused, while Thanadir's lips parted in astonishment. He could not say why, but that she remembered each exact word surprised him considerably. This was proving more illuminating than he could have imagined, because Earlene could not possibly know that her vows had been his as well. They were what he pledged to Thranduil from his heart on the battlefield of Dagorlad, thousands of years previous.

She continued speaking."I would imagine that hearing this already answers some of your question; there is little room in there to not understand that yes, I have promised to do as he asks and look to him for what I do, though that last part is slightly fuzzy. We have a balance, I suppose you might call it. I do not ask him if I may use the loo or buy a roast for dinner. But for anything that would affect me as one of his subjects, or affect another one of the elves, yes, definitely. That is what fealty means, to me. Not to mention, when one person oversees the welfare of two hundred others, it is common decency. But there was more, Thranduil spoke a vow to me in return. Those words were that he would vow to serve me as my King. He would honor, care for, and protect me as is his sworn duty, all the days of my life. My loyalty and service, he would reward. Most people probably would not guess that the obligation runs both ways. And those would be the...essentials, I believe. If I am not mistaken, your next question would be, Why?" As that seemed like rather a lot, she gave him time to digest what she had said.

Ratiri turned this over in his mind, staring into the middle distance. While it was not something that would ever appeal to him, given what he personally perceived as drawbacks, he could see why it would to others. "It's a bit like being a priest, or a vicar," he said eventually. "The vows you take, and the service you pledge. But if you'll forgive me, I do wonder why. I don't judge you for it, don't get me wrong, but I can't help but wonder why."

"I could stand around for days and try to come up with logical reasons, but those would be a smokescreen," Earlene grinned. "It really boiled down to something completely simple. Love, and the deep seated perception that Thranduil is good, and honorable. That and, we had reached a bit of an impasse. He certainly wasn't going to go away, and neither was I. It was the obvious means by which the two of us were going to manage to move forward. You have to understand, too, Ratiri, that I went to Lasg'len to basically drop out of life. To be a hermit. To just do what I wanted to do, alone, and with no one particularly bothering me. I was tired of the life I'd led, or I would have kept with it. That my plans went as awry as plans can go because a stunningly beautiful elf king appeared out of nowhere is something that is still a considerable source of personal amusement."

Ratiri couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I came to Baile for the same reason," he said. "Then I met Lorna, and through her I met you...I can't call my life quiet, precisely, but I wouldn't trade it. I'll be honest with you, Earlene: what you have done is not something I would do, but I can understand why you did it." Possibly better than she knew. Earlene, from the hints Lorna had dropped, had spent much of her adult life alone. With the Elves she had not just family, but community. She was part of something, as perhaps she never had been before in her life, and it was something amazing. He sighed. "I'll tell you something, though: Lorna is never going to understand. You're a good enough friend to her that she's genuinely trying - we've had a few conversations about it, and she's had nothing but good to say about your dynamics -" Christ, he hoped she wouldn't give out at him over _that_ "- but she doesn't get it. She doesn't judge you, don't get me wrong, but she had her freedom taken away against her will. The thought of voluntarily surrendering it would be an anathema to her, but don't take that to mean that she judges you in any way."

They had, in truth, had several conversations about it, because he'd found the idea uneasy at first himself, until Lorna pointed out that she'd never seen Thranduil treat Earlene as anything but his equal, and always with respect. Whatever vows they'd all spoken among one another, there did not appear to be active subjugation.

"It is possible that some of my memory is influenced by what I gleaned off of Lorna in the very beginning," Earlene admitted. "Lorna and I are so different. If a person tried to create polar opposites, I'm not sure they could succeed better than the two of us. There is a great deal I admire about Lorna. She has a... _je ne sais quoi_ that I would give a great deal to have, and don't. Yet I think our differences are why we do not know each other that well, really. I observe, and analyze. It is how I process information. But speaking about complex topics aloud...it has not gone so well, there. But, all things in time," she smiled. And though her face was an impenetrable mask, this conversation told her at least one thing. Lorna and Ratiri could simply never, ever know all of what had transpired between her and Thranduil at the outset. Earlene did not find those things to have been offensive, but _they_ most certainly would. There was only ever so much that they were going to understand, but, so be it. For that, she had Thanadir. There was no doubt in her mind that when it came to all these matters that her human friends found so difficult, he did not. Their hearts were the same, toward their King. _I should ask the seneschal, sometime, if he has ever spent time in the dungeon. It might be a very amusing conversation indeed._

"Lorna suffers from the same problem I do," he said. "We both tend to err on the side of caution when it comes to fear of being rude. She's worse about it than I am, but she also had a grandmother who would slap her upside the head if she said something wildly inappropriate. I don't feel comfortable saying too much, but she likes you a great deal, and is afraid she will disappoint you. Though for God's sake don't tell her I told you so. She's trying to be better at actually using her words, but I don't know that she'll ever be good at it."

Earlene shook her head. "If there is one thing I am aware of with Lorna, it is the disparity between her life and mine. I had loving parents and college. She got beat up and dropped out of school. I had law school and wealth. She had to mostly educate herself and barely got by. I had so, so many opportunities compared to her, and don't think I don't know it. Now and again I have lost sight of that, and I've felt like shite for managing to be so callous. She has no idea, how much she's managed to do with the circumstances she was dealt. Maybe someday she'll see it. Now and again I've gone off at the mouth about that but…" she shrugged. "Lorna's not the sort that wants smoke blown up her arse, and I don't blame her. Besides, Thranduil understands her better than I do. I know that he cares for her as best he can and...they are much closer friends than she and I are; that's ok. It's not my business, and it seems to do both of them quite a lot of good." A smile turned up at the corners of her mouth, because in the distance a diminutive green coat now bobbed along beside Thranduil and his polka dots. They looked so cute it was absurd. Or so absurd it was cute. One of those.

"She admires you a lot," Ratiri said. "And I don't think she's daunted by you anymore, though she admitted she was a bit, at first. You've lived through things she's certain would have destroyed her, and come out the other side. I know they would have destroyed _me_." If he had lost every single person who was dear to him - if he'd watched and heard them die - he'd probably have committed suicide sooner or later. "As odd as it sounds, I think Lorna and Thranduil have a good deal in common, in a few highly compartmentalized ways. She is so terrible at using her words that there are times I wish I had telepathy myself; she's genuinely trying to get it out, but can't. I thought _I_ was bad about it, but I can be a fountain of eloquence compared to her. She's told me the things he's done for her mind; it's little wonder she trusts him as she does." The pair of them did look a tiny bit ridiculous - Lorna tended to talk with her hands, as the saying went, which could get rather hilarious if you couldn't hear her. Her coat flapped in the breeze, and he pondered putting another kettle on before their return.

"That's just it, though. I didn't live through it. I only pretended to, getting by on poems and pills. But either way, it's not a contest. Life dished up shite but somehow, here we all are. Thanks to Thranduil." Finding the memory troublesome, without even thinking she rose up and went to Thanadir, leaning against him. "I'm glad you're with us, Ratiri. You've no idea what it's meant to me, to see Lorna be so happy. At least, give or take recent events, but those still don't take away from the good that has happened. I worry sometimes that we must seem...a little boring. I find it odd, sometimes. I had one particular function to do, and now I don't do that at all, more or less. But it's taught me that happiness isn't defined by my former job, that much is certain."

Thanadir's arm came around Earlene in a gentle hug. "Tail?" (Feet?) he asked, to which she eagerly nodded, moving down so he could rub her feet.

"Len hannon, meldir," she said with a happy sigh.

Ratiri's eyebrows rose. "A little boring? Earlene, this is literally my dream come true, but you've hit on something I was rather unhappily thinking of on my walk. I feel rather superfluous, too - Thranduil's healing ability renders my own moot. I'm of somewhat little use, unless Lorna and I are away from the Halls. She has more contacts than God, but exactly what tangible contribution can I offer? None that I can think of, and there are times it makes me...well, rather insecure. After my wife died, everything...stopped. My world ended, but I was still a doctor. Now everything has been essentially reborn, but being a doctor doesn't count for anything." He shook his head. "But Lorna makes me happy, too. I didn't think I'd ever find anyone again, after Katherine - didn't think I'd _want_ anyone. Then I saw that tiny elfin woman in a pub - and yes, she's the one I thought ought to have been an elf, when I first met you all. Oh, the irony." She still struck him as vaguely fairylike, albeit a fairy who cussed like a sailor.

Thanadir spoke. "Ratiri, you do not understand. Aran Thranduil wanted you," as if that piece of information alone should be completely self-explanatory. Earlene saw the worsening confusion on Ratiri's face.

"I believe what Thanadir meant to impart is that, you are not here at my request, or Lorna's. The King took the initiative to bring you into our circle." She smiled, feeling this should be quite a reassurance.

It _was_ reassuring, but it was also somewhat baffling. Ratiri didn't know why Thranduil should want him in on this whole thing, but he was entirely sure Thranduil kept his own counsel.

Seeing that he still was not comprehending what either of them were trying to convey, Earlene realized she would have to be far more direct. "Ratiri, what we are trying to tell you is, Thranduil does not only see the thoughts of others, he sees the heart. What sort of person each individual is. None of us humans are with him because of what we can do or what function we can serve so much as that he has seen our innermost natures. He has seen through you and judged you to be a person of great worth. As he did with Lorna, as he did with me. Thanadir, am I using the right words to say this?" she asked.

The old elf nodded. "That was very accurate, Earlene."

"So you are not here because of what you can do. Or what you cannot do. You are here because he wants you to be." And while even she had to admit that this sounded like the oddest of circular reasoning, there was not much else she could say about it. Her husband sensed things, perceived things...they had no way to fully explain what Ratiri was asking to know. Perhaps she could have offered that if he was among them it was because Thranduil sensed that sooner or later, he would be useful in a way even he could not imagine? But that sounded weird, and weirdness was precisely what she was seeking to avoid. There was already enough of that going around just...because elves.

"For once in my life, having an answer that can't be quantified doesn't bother me," Ratiri said. "Thank you for telling me that. It's set more than one thing in my mind at ease."

Thranduil smiled to see this place, his first real view of the actual ocean. He wondered, would the legendary sea-calling rise in his heart? It did not appear so, and yet he liked the sound of the waves and the shore birds and the stiff breeze. He kept the blanket protectively around Allanah, who looked around in wide-eyed wonder. _This place, I enjoy,_ he thought. And after he had strolled among the rocks for quite some time, he smiled to see a diminutive green coat with legs approaching him. Not that he would ever describe her thus within her hearing.

"How's she liking the view?" Lorna asked, picking her way across the beach. She felt closer to at peace here than she had in weeks, out in the chill ocean air. "Such a big thing for such a little one to see." Just because she could, and partly to be a little shit, she hugged him, and then immediately tripped over a stone and had to flail to right herself.

A steadying hand reached out to support her arm. "Indeed," he answered, wondering if she was at all noting the irony of her words. He thought better of pointing it out. "It is a very different view than in the forest, and I believe she likes the sea birds most of all," he said. Her little mind thinks those are especially delightful. And so far, she has not become cold." Allanah giggled at him in delight when he reached out to touch the tip of her nose.

"I think most parents'd kill to be able to do that," she said, grinning at the baby. "If we could know what they were thinking, it'd save a lot'v work and sleep deprivation."

She looked out at the sea, the grey waves capped with white. "Just wanted to tell you I've been better, now," she said. "Since we talked, I mean. Ratiri and I took care'v shite at the cottage, set it to rights -" and by that she meant completely re-do her bedroom "-and I don't have nightmares now. And I've got Ratiri wearing lavender, if you hadn't noticed." Yes, he was using her old shampoo. Hey, whatever worked.

Thranduil knelt down, smiling happily. "Then that deserves a proper hug, and not one of your sneak attack ones." It was hard to detect, the lavender, when the ocean breeze was so fresh and strong, but it was there. "I am glad," he murmured, and he meant it. Maybe, they would be blessed with this being a very enjoyable week that would refresh all their spirits. That was his hope, anyway. "If you do not mind, Lorna, I have already been out here for quite some time and suspect that the little one will not be content too much longer. May we walk back?"

"No one expects the sneak attack hugs," she said. "Well, except you. We might as well head back, before the wind kicks up and blows us away. Well, blows me away - I love this coat, but it really is a bit'v a sail in a strong wind. She might even be wanting a nap, the little sprog. Though she's a bit big now to be a sprog." Laughing, she added, "I think Thanadir thinks I'm a magician for finding the last puzzle piece in a chair. He hasn't got any bloody idea how adorable he is, does he? Or does he do it on purpose?"

Thranduil smiled a they turned back and carefully picked a path through the irregular rocks that made up the beach. "At risk of further earning my Bad Elf award, I will tell you that yes, he knows how he can affect others. But he does not do so on purpose. Usually." A huge smirk appeared on his face as he left Lorna to connect the dots.

"I am so making you an actual Bad Elf award," she teased, but she wasn't joking. She didn't need to tell Mick what she was doing to borrow some of his equipment. _And that little shit._ Of course he knew. Oh well, the secret was safe with her. "It'll act as a candleholder, so you can even do something useful with it, and if it's in Irish, nobody else'll ever know what it says."

"Do not misunderstand me," the King smiled. "Thanadir never does that over a serious matter. He would consider it to be gravely inappropriate. But for something lighthearted, like wanting Earlene's cookies or to play with the baby, yes. He cannot help his appearance. Once, long ago, he showed me a drawing he had made of his mother. It wrenched my heart, to see the look of sorrow captured there." Even now, he shook his head at the memory. It had been easy to see, whence his seneschal came by his wide, innocent eyes.

Well, that had taken a turn. "He'd said he was poor as a lad," she said, "and hungry. I didn't ask much more than that - I know sometimes people just don't want to talk about that shite. And here I spent so much effort trying to keep him away from all the ugly shite in the world, not knowing he'd already seen so much. I know you think I worry too much over you lot, but at first, when you were just getting a look at the human world, I didn't want the first things you saw to be ugly. With the sewing machine and all...he's got a wonder to him that I don't think I was ever capable'v. I didn't want to see that ruined, and then Sean happened."

"All elves have seen many sorrows, Lorna. It is part of the consequence of our long lives. Yet, I do not think it will ever be possible for Thanadir to lose that of which you speak. His mind is one that ever seeks out new learning. In the end, his spirits are never dampened for long. As for Sean…well, what can one say exactly? Bad choices are bad choices." They reached the doors, which Lorna opened and held against the stiff breeze.

"We'll have to remember not to use those if anyone's playing cards or a board game," she quipped. "That could be a slight disaster."

Ratiri nearly laughed to see Lorna - hood askew, half her hair blown free of her braid. She looked adorable, but he knew she didn't like being _called_ adorable. "I thought the wind might catch your coat and carry you away," he said, helping her out of it and brushing her hair out of her face.

"Not with this gut," she retorted, "and it's only going to get worse." At least Earlene had some height to balance her out; Lorna was going to look like a bowling ball with legs and arms. "That little one enjoyed the seagulls, apparently."

"I think it is time for many things, for the little one," said Thanadir, whisking her away.

"I don't know if I have ever said aloud how grateful I am that you and Thanadir almost always seem to take Allanah away when diapers are in question. I really do not feel like I do my fair share with her," Earlene said, even as she grimaced and adjusted her breasts that had once again become annoyingly heavy with milk.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. It took less than one minute to change the baby, but hours each day to feed her by one means or another. "You are welcome, meluieg. It is our pleasure," is what he was wise enough to say aloud. Thanadir returned, and Earlene happily hoped Allanah would reduce the size of the water balloons, if only for awhile. "What shall we do tomorrow?" she asked. "There are the islands to see, the nearby town, and of course there is goofing off and watching movies and playing games. Thoughts?"

"I'd say horseback riding, if the weather's fine and you actually want to do it," Lorna said. "I'd understand why you wouldn't, though."

"I wouldn't mind just walking a bit," Ratiri said, "even if it had to only be a bit. Then we could all see who could slaughter who at chess."

"I can ride, if I am not overruled," said Earlene. It is being on my feet for longer periods of time that is becoming more difficult. My arse seems to still be holding up just fine. And since we have someone that can fix being saddle sore...but I think that if we really want to see the islands, we'll need to rent bicycles. They're too big, for horses to get us much of anywhere, and that's if they are the cooperative sort."

Thranduil sighed. "I will admit I am worrying too much, but I would rather not see you on a strange horse, meluieg. And, I think you will find that being in a saddle will be less comfortable than you think." The full truth was, he hoped to relax on this trip, and spending the time fretting every moment about Earlene being thrown and possibly taking a blow to her abdomen was not going to reduce his level of tension at all. He knew beyond doubt that she could ride a bicycle; he had never seen her ride a horse. Though, she'd told him she could.

"Then I will not ride," she said, smiling at him. "There are many other things. And, I would like to find a sweater. A cardigan. One I can enjoy until there is too much of me to button it up."

"I haven't been on a horse in thirty years," Ratiri said. "I vote bicycles."

Lorna grimaced. "D'you know hard it is to ride a bicycle at my size? Even my tiny bloody hands can have trouble with the brakes." It was embarrassing to admit, but it was true. "I wonder if I could take a horse while you're all on bicycles? Either that or like, sit on a skateboard behind you?" She was only half joking, too. "I do want yarn, though. It'll be getting really cold right around the time I won't want to be moving much, and I've got some old sweater patterns'v Gran's. Might as well give it a shot."

"Maybe they've got tandems, and you could just be a passenger?" Earlene asked, looking at her tiny friend. She was not about to mention children's bikes, even though that was the obvious solution.

"We will think of something. We will go and if we have to hire a farmer and a pony cart, we will manage," said Thranduil, clearly uninterested in pursuing the minutiae of this discussion. "And I agree with Ratiri. We have all week. Earlene said it is supposed to be good weather at least these next three days, so for tomorrow may I suggest that we just enjoy ourselves here?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Lorna said. "Christ, I could lay and look at that view for a day. I'm just glad you gave me that wee thing, Earlene. I've got to go every damn ten minutes, at least I won't have to go find a handy bush."

Ratiri burst out laughing, pulling her down to him. "Before long you wouldn't be able to squat anyway," he said, hand splayed over her belly. "We'll work something out. There's no point worrying about it, especially when we haven't had dinner yet. I'll teach you to make bread one of these days."

"Earlene taught me," said Thanadir brightly. "I'm getting better."

Earlene erupted in laughter. "Oh meldir, you sound just like the man in the Monty Python movie."

"I'm being repressed?" asked Thanadir.

"No," said Earlene, now gasping for air. "The 'I'm getting better' man." She was saved the trouble of elaborating when Lorna croaked "Bring out yer dead!"

"Do I want to know?" said Thranduil, boggled at the jumble of images coming from all of them, including Thanadir.

"I don't want to go on the cart," Lorna said, as though that explained everything. Ratiri was too busy wheezing with laughter to actually say much of anything. "Thanadir was with Earlene and I, the night we watched Monty Python. He enjoyed it more than I'd thought he would, given he wasn't very familiar with Monty Python's kind'v humor. And I still want a Holy Hand Grenade, even if I _would_ lob it at someone on the M7."

"We're not an autonomous collective!" piped Thanadir, which gained roars of appreciation from all the mortals present.

"Oh hell," said Earlene. "This is no good. Lorna, cue it up. We're going there. Thranduil, it is time you lost your, er, it is time you saw this movie. It is only a little over an hour." She was already blushing furiously because while she might not have _said_ it, he most certainly heard her _think_ it. "Don't forget the subtitles," she asked.

"We're popping his Python cherry," Lorna whispered to Ratiri, who immediately descended back into helpless laughter.

"That," he wheezed back, trying to keep it in a whisper, too, "isn't something I needed to hear."

"Sorry," Lorna said, sounding anything but. She loved watching Ratiri laugh - he could be so reserved normally that it was like watching the sunrise.

Thranduil, sensing defeat, sat down and rearranged Earlene so that she could nurse comfortably while he held her. He'd already worked out to have partial revenge, having unfortunately (for Earlene) caught the Huge Tracts of Land reference in her mind. He did not need to move his hands to cause a very pleasing warmth to develop in her body. She sighed, knowing that turnabout was fair play, and shrugged. The best part of all was watching Lorna and Thanadir and Ratiri, each trying to outdo the other; from a single viewing, Thanadir recalled an astounding amount of dialogue. Cupped hands were used in place of coconuts, and a good time was had by all, even Thranduil, who chuckled more often than not. Yes, this was completely ridiculous, but it was also much of what he had come to appreciate about mortals. And in all his years with Thanadir, he had never seen so much laughter and simple joy. _Holy Hand Grenade, indeed._

"Seriously, though," Lorna said, "I really do want a Holy Hand Grenade. I'd use it as a paperweight."

"You don't have any paperwork," Ratiri pointed out, looking down at her. Never, ever would she get tired of the gleam that entered his eyes when he was amused.

"I'd get some, just for that." She'd do it, too.

"How about I just get you Excalibur?" he asked.

"If some moistened bint throws it at you, I'll have to go tear her hair out," Lorna said solemnly. "I won't have any choice."

"Maybe if you're good, Santa will get you one for Christmas," Earlene said drily, really not wanting to get up and make dinner. It felt so, so nice to be off of her feet.

"I will help you, meluieg. We will cook together."

 _Promise?_ she said.

With an incredibly sexy rumble coming from his chest in reply, he picked her up and they went to the kitchen.

Lorna glanced at Ratiri, who shrugged. Those two weren't going to have it off in the kitchen, which was all that really mattered, and Earlene was such a fantastic cook that it didn't matter who helped her.

"Should we break out the chess?" Lorna asked.

Ratiri grimaced. "Do we have to? All the games we've played have done nothing at all for my self-esteem."

"You've just got to stop thinking as linear as you do. Just look at it like it's a mystery disease and you've got to examine all the possible causes."

"You never give me a chance," he said dryly. "Before I can get my bearings you've mowed through my pawns and half my knights. You should play Thanadir."

"Thanadir," she said, looking at the elf in question, "would kick my arse inside'v two minutes - wouldn't you, Thanadir? You and Thranduil've got probably five hundred times more experiences as tacticians than I do at the very least. All I've got comes from dealing with gang shite, which isn't even close to the same thing."

"I do not know of what you are speaking," the seneschal said. "What is this….chess?"

"It's a strategy game," Lorna said, rising to dig out her set. "You've got a number'v different pieces that can only move in specific ways. The goal is to capture this one," she added, holding up the queen "And block this one in." She held up the King. "Whoever gets it wins. Well, that's the simplified version, anyway. You have to know how to take out the opposing player's various pieces without getting your own taken out instead."

Thanadir stared at the board, the gears whirring in his head immediately. "Show me, please," he asked.

Lorna grinned, setting the board on an end-table and dragging it over so they could sit facing one another. "Okay, so this is your King," she said. "Each piece had different ways it's allowed to move, and he can go one square in any direction." She set the figurine down. "He can also move _around_ this one -" here she held up a rook "-he can move any number'v squares in rank or file, but he can't jump anybody else." She laid out the rest of the pieces, their positions, and what they could and could not do. "People don't think much'v pawns," she said, lining them up. "You'll her the term used a lot in English, usually to describe someone that's been used and doesn't actually matter, but in chess, if it goes a certain way, a pawn can become the queen." Aaaand her brain went into slightly uneasy territory there. Moving on. "I'm looking forward to you beating me, Thanadir. I've never had a proper opponent."

"I'm right here," Ratiri complained, but it was good-natured.

"And there's loads you can do that I can't," she said, tossing a cushion at him. "Accept that I'm too ruthless for you and move on."

He grinned at her, too content to move to harass her. "My beautiful bloodthirsty sprite."

"And don't you forget it."

Thanadir and Lorna set up the board properly, and began their game. There was decent struggle, given that this was Thanadir's first ever game, but with two bishops and a knight remaining in her arsenal, she put the elf into checkmate. And while he spent fifteen tense seconds staring at the game board in disbelief, he finally looked up, smiled, and congratulated Lorna warmly on her victory. If Earlene happened to walk by thirty seconds later, with a glass of their elven wine for him and a kiss planted on his cheek, no one but Thranduil was really the wiser about why that occurred. Earlene reappeared soon after, announcing that dinner would be in an hour and immediately sitting on the love seat with Thanadir who kindly resumed work on her feet.

"And now that I'm a hundred percent certain you've memorized every single thing I did, I know damn well you'll kick my arse next time," Lorna said, picking up the pieces. "I haven't run up against a challenge like you...ever, really. I'm not used to people who actually make me work for it."

"I would like to try," said Thranduil. "But I cannot see how to have this be...fair. I cannot shut out your thoughts," he said sadly.

Lorna pondered this, looking from Earlene to Ratiri. While she couldn't yet say she was _good_ at meditation...focusing on a vague inner fog, nebulous as the mist over the trees behind her house, she said, "How well can you read me now?" If she could fuzz it a little bit, she'd have at least a chance at not getting murdered in six moves.

"Too well," he said, shaking his head.

"We have four laptops in this house," said Earlene. Do you really mean to tell me that there is no such thing as a simple chess program that will let you play each other by computer, so you can be in different rooms?"

"There's got to be," Lorna said. "Christ, Google probably has some free program." Grinning, she hopped to her feet. "This'll get interesting, and then maybe I'll try to sniff the fumes off that wine." This teetotaller thing still sucked, and did not suck any less with the passage of time. And the worst of it was that she'd still be stuck with it even after the twins were born, because of nursing. She was never, ever doing this again - she had no idea why any woman would be willing to do it more than once.

Earlene helped set up Thranduil's computer and in less than ten minutes, Thranduil had gone into the bedroom chuckling with his computer. If Earlene thought it was vaguely surreal that Lorna had to keep shouting "Can you hear me now?" across the house, she said nothing.

Seated on her bed (which was apparently far enough) Lorna opened her laptop. She'd never played a virtual game before, so she let him make the first move, and wondered if she was actually, finally going to get her arse handed to her. At least, if she absolutely _had_ to be beaten by someone, it would be the King of the god damn Elves. She couldn't think of a better opponent to lose to.

Earlene's phone timer went off, waking her from the nap she had not meant to take. _I want to cry,_ she thought, disoriented. Her feet were blissfully warm underneath the blanket Thanadir had draped over her; he and Ratiri were watching Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, and the seneschal was entranced.

Ratiri saw Earlene flailing with the blankets and offered to check the timer. _He'd been able to cook that roast...could he handle testing a meatloaf?_ She frowned. _Earlene, he's a goddamn doctor. Give the man credit that he can use a digital thermometer._ "I need to check that the meatloaf has reached 70C," she said. "The thermometer is right by the oven. If it's done, please take it out to rest a bit." _You are such a control freak,_ she pointed out to herself. And yet it was simply too easy to remain one with the sofa.

"Mission accomplished," he said cheerfully on his return. "Dinner in ten minutes, I'd guess?"

"If we're not done with this game, you lot just go on without us," Lorna called. She was rather surprised she hadn't got stomped on already.

Ratiri shook his head. "We'll have to save them some, I suppose. God knows how long they'll be able to keep it going - Lorna's stupidly good at this, but she's not Thranduil."

Earlene raised her eyebrow but...this was vacation. If he'd rather obsess over a game of chess than eat dinner, she'd not bother him. The table was already set, and three of them immensely enjoyed meatloaf with a tangy sauce, a mixed salad of greens, fruit, and some shaved root vegetables in a vinaigrette, and mashed potatoes. Deciding to not bother asking, they pressed on with their Star Trek. As subtly as possible, Earlene used her breast pump to save up what she could for Allanah against midnight necessities. For a time afterward, she dozed against Thanadir until dozing became fast asleep. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the room she and Thranduil had chosen. His King was sitting cross legged on the bed, raptly staring at his screen. Thanadir came up silently behind him, looking at what was transpiring; their game also had a chat feature. "Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king?" Thanadir read aloud softly, causing Thranduil to startle. The seneschal smirked from ear to ear. "Would you like to put your wife to bed, my Lord, or would you rather blow your nose at Lorna? I await your instructions."

Refusing to appear nonplussed, Thranduil rose smoothly and cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be best if this game were declared a draw," he said quietly, gesturing to place Earlene on the bed.

"How long has the board been like that?" asked Thanadir.

Thranduil struggled to keep a neutral face. "Quite some time."

"I see," said the older elf, doing his damnedest to not let on how much he was enjoying this. "I will take my leave, then."

Lorna couldn't believe they'd had to call it a draw - except that she kind of could. Thranduil had vastly more experience at tactical matters than she did, but they did both think rather alike in some ways. She stared at the blinking message, and fired back, _I take off the hat I haven't got, good sir_.

"You look absurdly pleased with yourself," Ratiri said, shrugging out of his overshirt and pulling off the T-shirt beneath it. "Thranduil didn't murder you?"

"We called it a draw," she said, shutting her laptop and rising to get her pajamas. "I'm guessing because Earlene went to bed? Somehow I think she'd boot him out if we kept on. It wasn't going to go anywhere any time soon, either. We'd've been stuck for the next week."

"That is why you play with timers," Ratiri said. "I'm impressed."

"I'm surprised," she said, stripping off her trousers. "A bit, anyway. I thought he'd murder me, but I'd hate to go to war against him. We'd wind up with two dead armies while we like, arm-wrestled in the middle of a corpse-field."

Ratiri eyed her. "Lorna, sometimes I really don't know what to make of your brain."

"Neither do I," she said, crawling across the bed and kissing him. "Okay, I know for a fact we're out'v Thranduil-range, so we haven't got to feel self-conscious about this. And I'm sure the pair'v them have traumatized Thanadir so often he's immune to it by now."

Thranduil wandered guiltily into the kitchen, finding that all the food had been put away. Truthfully, he had not meant to become quite so absorbed in their game, but he could not stop himself. Had be been aware he was so competitive? He was not really very hungry, so he chose a piece of fruit and plunked down next to Thanadir, who was happily watching another Star Trek movie.

The trouble Lorna and Ratiri quite often had with their intimate life had started out as lack of experience - somewhat remedied by now, through practice - but also a not inconsiderable height difference. When one partner was a full foot and a half taller than the other, things needed to get a bit...creative, and unfortunately this was an unfamiliar bed. Somehow this resulted in both of them, by then less than half-dressed, tipping right off the edge of the mattress. Fortunately they missed the end-table, but the floor was hardwood, and somehow Ratiri managed to land on his right side in such a way that he felt the shoulder pop right out of joint. He was luckier than Lorna, who hit it face-first, causing a crack that made him wince even more than his shoulder.

The shoulder was easily dealt with, but when Lorna sat up, cursing like a sailor, the entire lower half of her face dyed red with blood, he winced again. Even in the muted light of the lamp, he could see she'd broken it.

Unable to help himself, he fell into helpless laughter, because really, while they were on _holiday_? This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was certainly the first injury.

Lorna glowered at him, pressing the first thing to hand - his discarded shirt - against her face. She couldn't hold it, though; the situation was so absurd that she giggled even as she cringed. There was absolutely no way she was going to Thranduil like this, even if she did manage to get a shirt on. Ratiri was a doctor, he could sort this out.

"It would hurt, Lorna," he protested, when she asked it of him, her voice muffled by the shirt.

"I've broken my nose before, allanah," she said. "I know what getting it set feels like. I'll live."

He hesitated, unwilling to cause her such pain when it could be so easily avoided. Yes, he could feel his face burning at the mere thought - even if Thranduil didn't laugh at them openly, he'd surely be laughing like hell on the inside - but if that was the cost of setting Lorna's nose without it being agonizing, he'd pay it. He said as much, too, even as he felt his face burn.

" _You_ might be, but I'm not," she said. "You can't read him as well as I can. I'll know exactly how ridiculous he finds it."

"Why can you read him so well?" Ratiri asked, shrugging into his shirt. His shoulder hurt like an absolute bastard, which was not surprising. "Why do you just read everyone so well?"

Lorna grimaced, something visible even around her impromptu bandage. "Self-defense," she said. "Da was unpredictable, but if you could read his cues, you'd know when to be out'v the way so you wouldn't get hit. Prison honed it, then tending pub tempered it. Now I can't turn it off. It's given me some tiny sense'v what Thranduil must go through; it's not that I _want_ to do it, I just can't help it." Ratiri had been her blind spot, which was just aggravating, since he'd been the one she most wanted to read. Perhaps it was because she wanted to that she hadn't been able.

"Well, get your shirt on and let's go see him," Ratiri said, privately finding that bloody tragic. He knew by now that she wouldn't want to hear it, so he just helped her get on and button a flannel and led her out into the dimness of the house.

He really didn't want to be the one going to knock on Thranduil and Earlene's door, but from the quiet sounds of the TV, Thanadir was still awake. They probably wouldn't mind it half so much if he was the one to disturb them.

Ratiri didn't know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that Thranduil was in the lounge, too, but either way, he was, and it only made Ratiri's face burn even hotter.

That poor man...he'd gone the color of a brick now, so Lorna saved him the trouble. "We had a bit'v a mishap," she said. "Two, actually." She didn't offer any explanation, given he'd see it all anyway. She wasn't sure she was actually capable of blushing herself, but she was probably closer than she'd ever been in her life.

Thranduil's eyes turned to them. "Thanadir, ti harn," he said softly (they are wounded). Thanadir reached to carefully examine Lorna's face, while unfortunately the movie ran in the background with Bones saying, _'Now put away your butcher knives and let me save this patient before it's too late!'_ The old elf was at a complete loss as to why Lorna, who was obviously in pain, dissolved into laughter. He looked at Thranduil helplessly, until some silent instruction or other sent him to the kitchen for a damp kitchen towel in a very dark color.

"I am guessing you are not here because you wish to watch Star Trek," Thranduil said kindly to Ratiri even as he moved to his side. "This will not hurt you, please stand as still as you are able." In less than a minute, the pleasant warmth had spread all throughout his shoulder girdle, until he felt his arm slowly and painlessly lifted until nothing more than a soft 'click' was felt. In the dim light of the room, the light of the Elvenking's healing energy shone more noticeably, before dimming down.

"Thank you," Ratiri said, sighing with relief. In spite of everything, he watched what Thranduil did with utter fascination. If only his magic could be bottled and sold...but then, if it could, it wouldn't be magic.

"And now for you, Lorna," he said. Thanadir had carefully blotted the worst of her nosebleed off of her face, and kept what was still flowing from making a worse mess. The King stepped around behind her and placed the ends of his fingers over each side of her nose. "This is going to feel very strange, you may even feel this in your teeth, though it will not hurt. Everything is rather close to everything else, where faces are concerned." He was just ready to begin, when Chekov intoned, _'Scotty! Now would be a good time,_ ' which started Lorna laughing all over again. "Lorna, you really must be still," Thranduil said, mildly exasperated.

"Sorry," she managed, trying desperately to contain her giggling. That Ratiri was so blatantly trying to contain his own was not helping, and he must have known that, because he turned away.

Finally, she contained herself, and very soon after the last wayward bone was set to rights. Thanadir finished carefully cleaning her face, wisely choosing not to inquire how the injuries were managed in the first place. As Thranduil checked her face one last time for symmetry, he vaguely wondered if he and Earlene were missing out on some form of intimate excitement, because he could not for the life of him recall a single instance in which they'd even come close to falling out of their bed. Oh well, he was not about to inquire. "I am going to bed. But if anything hurts or if you feel unwell, come and tell Thanadir if you feel uncomfortable about seeking me out. I suspect he is too entranced in Star Trek movies to retire anytime soon," Thranduil said before leaving the room. Thanadir's grin gave enough of an answer.

Lorna touched her nose with mild wonder. The other two times she'd had to have it set, it had hurt like a mad bastard, and she'd had bruises on her face for a month. That Thranduil hadn't teased them surprised her, until something clicked in her head and she realized he never actually had. Oh, he teased about small things, but never once about Ratiri, even when she'd been at her most awkward, and she wondered why. Sooner or later she'd ask him, when they had the time.

"Goodnight, Thanadir," she said. "Thanks for helping with the mess." God only knew what he'd made of this - but then again, this was probably not even remotely close to the weirdest situation he'd ever seen.

When Thranduil entered their bedroom, he was surprised to see Earlene propped up in bed with her eyes open.

"Meluieg?" he said, concerned. "Are you well?"

"I think so," she replied. "I woke, and now I do not feel sleepy, but my body still feels a little tired, if that somehow makes any sense. "I missed you," she teased lightly, holding out her hands to him as he was disrobing.

"I am sorry," he said, snuggling against her warmth. "I was…"

"You were having fun," Earlene said, holding him against her. "Please, please do not apologize. If you want to spend this entire week playing computer chess with Lorna, do it. I never see you getting to do what you want to, Thranduil, unless it is…" she blushed, just a little. "Well, you know."

In spite of his current level of comfort, he propped himself further up to be able to look at her. _In my entire life, no one has ever offered me this. A little while, to just be like anyone else. No demands, no expectations._ "I almost do not know what to say." And he meant it.

"Then do not worry about that either," she said, smiling, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.

"I smell toothpaste," he teased her. The mortal habit of brushing her teeth was one she had not given up, though he had told her it was no longer necessary to do.

"Old habits die hard," she grinned. "Besides, I would think it more pleasant that meatloaf."

"Perhaps I should investigate further," he rumbled, his desire rising.

Earlene glanced down, smiling. "Am I still...attractive to you, at all? I would understand if the changes to my body were off-putting, now or later on. I see myself unclothed now and...it is not the same," she said. "It is already nearly impossible for us, to make love as we used to." While it was not like her to think in this manner, lately, flitting moments of wondering about this passed through her mind. _Better to just say it now, than when it becomes so much worse._

 _Meluieg..._ his hand caressed her cheek. _I can understand, how you might think this way. It is hard for me to imagine, even though I share your mind, what your body's changes would feel like, were it happening to me. I do not care that I cannot lie on top of you any longer, to join with you. These are my children, that I desperately wish to have. You cannot realize what a gift you are giving to me, Earlene. What you see as changes that make you no longer appealing are just the opposite, for me. I desire you very much, and I would show you, if you will allow it._

"I will never be able to accuse you of not knowing the right thing to say, even if I could doubt your sincerity," she said, kissing him as his hand traveled to her swollen belly. Another low rumble of humor in his chest was the only answer she received.

Lorna and Ratiri decided not to push their luck, and merely went to _bed_ when they went to bed. Should they attempt anything tomorrow, they'd have to be more careful. This was embarrassing enough to deal with once; twice was just not to be borne. If only the floor wasn't so hard and cold...oh well. The tub here wasn't big enough, and they'd found out already that the shower was just awkward. Ratiri wondered if he ought to consult Google, but he wouldn't trust anything he found on the Internet to actually be comfortable. Most of it seemed designed to look good without the consideration that the partners involved might want to _enjoy_ it. Maybe there was a Reddit thread for couples with drastic height differences. He wouldn't be surprised. Despite knowing Thranduil wouldn't say anything of it, he still didn't feel comfortable searching the website while they were on holiday. Knowing he would not be judged really didn't make the fact that Thranduil would know what he was doing any less awkward for him.

Lorna fell asleep well before he did, and he spent a while just stroking her hair. He'd make it up to her when they got home, and had a bed they wouldn't need to fear falling off.

Earlene woke early the following morning, delighted and truly glad that her husband apparently knew of many more intimate positions than she could have imagined; ones that were enjoyable for her and made her swollen belly not matter. And the one where their legs had been scissored against each other, while she rested comfortably on her back...her insides lurched merely thinking on it. The warm glow of satisfaction still lingered, as she pondered baked apples versus crepes. The latter won out. She'd bought coffee as a special treat, and put it on to brew while she mixed her batter. Only then did she walk to the living area to see Thanadir curled in a blanket, completely fixated on the television. "Meldir?" she said, sitting next to him, wondering. "Did you sleep at all?"

He shook his head No. "Earlene, why are so many cutting boards for sale? These are a popular possession, for humans? And...watches, too?"

 _What in Eru's name?_ she thought. And then it dawned on her. _He'd been up through the night, and what came on, in the wee hours?_ "Thanadir, were you watching infomercials? The shopping channel?"

"I think so," he said. "They told me that if I called in the next ten minutes I would get an extra cutting board."

Earlene began to snicker uncontrollably, reaching for him. "If I may give you some advice, Thanadir, those programs are...bad for the mind. I will show you how to find other movies or shows to watch. Shopping programs are difficult to explain, exactly; they are...not truly honest."

"I at least knew that I did not need a pedicure set," he smirked. "Human culture is very strange, Earlene."

"It is," she agreed, kissing him on the cheek. "I will not even attempt to argue our case. Excuse me now, breakfast will take me quite awhile."

"Can I help?"

She nodded. _Maybe I can teach him to cook crepes? Who knows._ She began to dig out the ingredients for the ricotta and fresh fruit filling.

Ratiri woke before Lorna, but had no desire to get up right away. He stayed curled around her until she stirred, and turned to look at him. The first thing she did was burst out laughing, touching the end of her nose with no small amount of wonder.

"That really is useful," she said, "if embarrassing to ask for. We've really got to get this angles thing worked out." Even when she was as primed as woman could be, there were some angles that were just a nope, and they could be hit without warning. Supposedly size didn't matter in either direction, but there had been a couple times it had felt like she was being punched in the cervix in certain positions, which was an even bigger nope. Fortunately, what Ratiri lacked in experience in that department he more than made up for with the things his fingers and tongue could do, neither of which ought to be legal. She'd always thought the whole 'seeing stars' idea was nonsense, but no, it was very possible. More than once, on a good evening. The record was six, which had left her all but brain-dead the next day, and feeling rather like a noodle.

Unfortunately, she could not properly reciprocate. She knew from rather disgusting experience that her gag reflex was too sensitive, but she still had a tongue, and deft if tiny fingers - she was, after all, a guitar player, and a good one at that. And he was so beautifully _responsive…_

She shook herself, wanting to get her thoughts in order before she inflicted them on poor Thranduil. He'd said he didn't mind, but it still wouldn't exactly be polite to dump them on him first thing in the morning. Rising, she pulled on clean clothes, and let Ratiri brush her hair - he enjoyed doing it, and she enjoyed having it done, so it was a win-win. Once everything bathroom-related was taken care of, they headed out in search of tea.

The kettle was quite hot, and the coffee had long been ready. Earlene and Thanadir had visibly been at work for some time, and the result was an impressive pile of neatly folded and filled crepes, placed one at a time into a larger pan in a warming oven. It turned out that for all his struggles with yeast breads, he was dextrous and beyond adept at understanding when and how to turn the delicate creations. Earlene was very impressed. She showed the seneschal how to make a respectable porridge, as well, figuring that when the grains were cooked, everyone could help themselves when it suited them. "We have done well, Thanadir. I cannot thank you enough," she said, giving him a half-hug before taking seat for a while, to get off her feet.

Lorna savored her one allotted cup of caffeinated tea, watching the rising sun glittering on the dewy grass outside the kitchen door. In it she put three drops of her anti-nausea medication, beyond grateful that she had it; without it, she would be utterly miserable. Ratiri sat beside her, long legs stretched out yet out of the way of general traffic. Neither one were about to mention the previous evening's...issues, but there was plenty of food to distract themselves with.

"This is lovely, you two," Lorna said. "I haven't had crepes in years, since I lived with Mairead. They never quite work right when I make them."

Even Ratiri knew better than to say that was a charitable way of putting it. What she'd produced was edible, but that was all that could be said for it. Not that he could have done a great deal better, so he kept his mouth shut. He was one of those people who was quite a good cook until they tried getting ambitious, at which point it all went to pot. He could make elaborate Indian dishes thanks to his mother, which Lorna had liked thus far, but he wasn't sure just what Earlene and the Elves' attitudes toward spiciness and curry would be. Lorna loved spicy foods, but even she'd had a hard time with pork bharta. He'd have to start with something like shrikhand; sweet, but not too sweet, and surely Earlene had introduced the Elves to yogurt by now.

"There's a trick to them," Earlene said. "The batter has to rest. Believe it or not what got me succeeding with those was a little cookbook I picked up in Germany, on a trip when I was a student. I've always used those recipes and never had a problem since. It's sort of absurd, but so are a lot of things in life," she grinned. Only one crepe and a small serving of porridge were eaten; she was learning fast that eating big meals was becoming a terrible idea, and had started trying to eat smaller amounts more often. To that end, she re-filled her own plate before covering it in wrap and placing it in the refrigerator; she'd be hungry again in an hour and a half. Just then, Thranduil came in with Allanah and she thought her heart might melt. For the first time ever, her husband had something that faintly resembled bed head.

"You find useful things in the oddest places," Ratiri said, looking from her to Thanadir and back again, and then at Thranduil. "What are your thoughts on spicy foods? I mean, truly spicy, not the cheap knockoffs you'd find in Ireland?"

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek when she saw Thranduil's hair, saying nothing. It wasn't actually bad, but given that his hair was normally perfect (seriously, how the hell did he do that, anyway?) it gave her mild amusement as she savored her tea. "Careful how you answer that," she warned. "Indian food doesn't mess about."

"I like Indian food. A lot," answered Earlene. "I doubt I'm as skilled preparing it as you are, but I can make a few things. Spicy is fine. 'Spicy let's go to the hospital or drink a gallon of milk afterward'…not so much. That and, I have never met a chickpea I didn't like."

"He makes some bloody good desserts, too," Lorna said. "I'd never had anything like them before, but even Mairead approved."

"My mother thought all men should know how to cook as well as women," Ratiri said, a bit ruefully. "This resulted in Dad and I being given lessons, usually at the same time, while she threw up her hands and swore in Hindi. I swear sometimes he botched it on purpose, just to get her going. Then they'd wind up dancing to Sinatra ten minutes later." He shook his head, unable to define his family. "It was somewhat odd, really. Mam wouldn't eat meat, and Dad never brought it home for her to cook, but he'd take me out back with the barbecue and teach me. She didn't care, so long as it wasn't in the house."

Earlene tried to envision the amalgamation of cultures and temperaments Ratiri described and found she really could not quite manage it. And yet it was charming, and interesting that these stunningly diverse backgrounds had produced Ratiri. Each of them, in their makeshift family, were really quite...not ordinary. And yet Earlene loved all of them; each of those near to her was worth about ten thousand Aidans. _You cannot choose your family, I've always heard. But I'm not so sure that is true._

The carried on with their lazy day. Lorna had packed all of the Harry Potter films, and the elves found them to be enthralling. The humans ducked in and out of this, and with the exception of Earlene and Thanadir taking a long walk while Thranduil watched Allanah, nothing meritorious whatsoever was accomplished. Except, they made it to the village and back, with Thanadir bearing a rather substantial fish that was destined to become chowder for dinner. Thanadir's clothing and long hair garnered a few stares from the locals, but as his ears had been hidden from sight, it was likely nothing terribly peculiar. Earlene chuckled to herself when later, it became apparent that Thranduil and Lorna were back at their chess games. A pleasant evening was had by all in one manner or another; tomorrow they intended to be on the ferry out of Doolin, to Inis Mor.

* * *

Video input for researching the story, which we highly recommend if you'd like to appreciate this upcoming next chapter (47) more:

The Beauty and Music of the Aran Islands watch?v=0CMtBIMIS0Q

The Story of the Aran Sweater: watch?v=rDDE-ZwCaZo

Rick Steves on the Aran Islands (first segment)

watch-read-listen/video/tv-show/best-of-west-ireland


	47. Chapter 47

Lorna and Ratiri remained wise, and did nothing in bed but sleep. As often happened, he woke up tangled in her hair, and had to try to unwind himself without waking her. A quick shower and change later and he went out to make tea; she slept longer now that she was nearing her second trimester, and he felt he might as well let her. Given that no one else was in the kitchen, he whipped up a big pan of scrambled eggs and put on a pot of coffee, just in time for Lorna to zombie her way into the kitchen. The longer she slept, the harder it was to badger her into proper wakefulness in the morning. Pressing a cup of tea into her hand, he went to grab plates.

Earlene had been woken out of a dead slumber by Thranduil, who gently reminded her that it might take some organizing in order to prepare for her day with Allanah. And to be honest, he was right. She'd packed the baby things for this trip, but this was the first excursion away from home or a home-like setting with the little girl they had yet attempted. Going to the Spotted Dick in Lasg'len was one thing; if disaster somehow struck they were a short walk from home and all he clean clothes and nappies one could want. This, as she began considering what would need bringing, was more difficult. And it had been her genius decision to forego the stroller on this trip. What had she been _thinking?_

"What you were thinking, meluieg, is that you would have three strong males to help carry some of her things. And her, if need be. Do not fret, only focus on packing what will be needed, and on feeding yourself. If you are willing to deal with the inconvenience, we can avoid needing bottles by your feeding her when we are...wherever we will be. I will feed her your milk from last night, and some of the strained vegetables."

Thanking him, she nodded her assent. "I will bring a scarf." While she had no qualms about feeding the child in public, they were in a very insular, very Catholic area of the country, and she did not wish to offend local custom when it could so easily be avoided. At least, not here. She could offend her own community far easier, she mused; they had to live with her. Dressing but not minding her hair in the least for the moment, she ambled out to hunt down the smell of delicious eggs.

"There's coffee," Ratiri said by way of greeting, pointing the spatula at the pot. Between the Elves and Lorna, he'd already gone through an astonishing number of eggs, so he just fried all of them. If there were any leftovers, Thanadir would surely eat them.

Lorna, now far more human, raised her empty mug in a toast and went to take a shower. When she returned, hair wrapped in a towel, she said, "All right, so we're taking a ferry, then bicycles?" Hopefully at least one of the bikes had baskets, for all their baby shite. God, she didn't even want to _imagine_ what it would be like when they had five babies. She'd get Shane to find her a decommissioned school bus.

"That's the plan. Today is just Inis Mor. The ferry goes to all of them, if we feel the pull, but six hours with Allanah and my belly might be all that I can handle. But honestly, if we see the ruins, and I can buy a sweater and look around the isle a little I'll feel like it was a lot. Funny how the larger you get the smaller your expectations," she joked. A smouldering glance from across the room came from her newly arrived husband, bearing a changed and fed baby. Earlene smiled. What he had said to her, about her changing body...it had made her feel so loved, at a time when she was trying to manage so many things being different. "There are still some eggs, Thranduil, and coffee," she said, taking the baby. "We should all plan to go in about a half hour, the ferry leaves at ten."

Lorna combed her hair and sat with it over one of the heating vents to get it as dry as she could, wishing for more tea. On the other hand, it was probably just as well she couldn't have any, because she was already going to have to pee every ten minutes. Thank bloody God for that thingy of Earlene's, which was tucked into her leather satchel, carefully sanitized and done up in a plastic baggie. She'd practiced with it in the bathroom, just to the hang of it, to Ratiri's intense amusement. "I really hope they've got enough bikes with baskets," she said. "Otherwise we'll be having an issue." She wanted to stick her bag into a basket, because trying to ride with it would be a real bitch.

It was an overcast morning but the weather geniuses insisted no rain, as they drove to the ferry's departure point. Earlene had deliberately neglected to mention the name of their chariot across the ocean to Lorna, figuring she would see it soon enough. There were not really many other passengers and she knew herself well enough to know that while she would not have time to turn green from motion sickness on this short of a crossing, neither would she be stupid enough to take one of the seats inside. She walked to the rear rail, holding Allanah tightly as she was protected from the winds, and faced forward like a sensible person. Thranduil came behind her, anchoring them protectively with his arms; she was not fearful in the first place, but now there was no possibility at all of her becoming unbalanced. The bleak Arans were visible in the distance. From the reading she'd been doing, this part of her adopted country told the same sad story of the English oppressors but from a different angle. This land, these western holdings, were deemed to be essentially worthless, so the English stayed away. They'd not been so much in Connaught, and apparently not at all to the Arans, where managing a living was harder than usual.

The name of the boat made Lorna burst out laughing - the _Happy Hooker?_ Really? - and took her mind off the fact that they were going on a boat, yikes. If she glommed onto Ratiri like a limpet...eh, whatever. The scent of the sea was very strong, the fine spray kicked up by the boat chilly on her face, and she wished she'd worn her long coat. It would have been stupid of her, since she could hardly ride a bike in it, but still. She hazarded the interior, simply because she was too cold to to stay outside. Cold had never bothered her until she got up the yard, and now all of a sudden she was freezing if she was outdoors without six layers for very long. Being on a bike would warm her up, at least.

"I would give a tenner to find out who named this boat, and why," Ratiri said, sitting on a bench and drawing her beside him. "I suspect the story would be worth hearing."

 _Earlene knows,_ he heard back in his head. _But I suspect you would have to come out here to hear about it._

Ratiri looked at Lorna, weighing whether or not she'd find it worth it. "Earlene knows," he said. "If you're willing to go outside and freeze."

"This I have to hear," she said, and plastered herself against his side as they went out into the chill. "Fionn says you know why this boat's called the _Happy Hooker_ ," she said.

"I'm logging this on the calendar as the first time I knew something about Ireland you didn't," Earlene teased Lorna. "There's a special fishing vessel, called a Galway Hooker. It has nothing to do with, er, the other sort one thinks of with that word. They're built for the windy oceans around here. Very pretty, almost always black hulls and red sails. The word 'hooker' is really the Irish word; I can't remember the Irish spelling, that's your department. Anyway, that's what this ferry's named after. And I apologize for dragging you out here, it's just that I know I can get seasick and I'm not about to risk it by going into the cabin."

Lorna laughed. "I've got to admit, I had no idea at all," she said. "I'll still be wanting a picture'v it for the scrapbooks, because it's too good not to." Shivering, she actually crawled into Ratiri's coat, wrapping her arms around him. Laughing, he returned the gesture, folding her into his coat like a burrito. Her legs were still freezing, but oh well.

Thranduil reached out a hand and laid it on Lorna's shoulder. _I cannot be everywhere at once, but at least for now, do not be cold._ He did...whatever it was, and it suddenly felt like standing someplace much, much warmer, with the sense of cold leaving her limbs. It felt like jumping in a damn hot tub, actually.

Lorna sighed with relief. _You are the absolute best,_ she said, and meant it. It meant she could un-burrito herself and appreciate the view. It was much easier to do when she wasn't shivering so hard her teeth just about chattered - she was going to get her Irish license taken away if she didn't stop being so sensitive to temperature. Hopefully that would revert back to normal once she'd had the sprogs. _I would be so bloody miserable without you._

 _I am very happy I can help you, Lorna. Though, even I am imagining all of us with four more children to care for. This is going to be...interesting, is it not?_ He could not avoid the combination of smirk and chagrin written on his features.

 _I'm getting us a bus_ , she said. _I don't care who I have to pay, we'll have a bus, so we can have all of us plus five babies plus all the shite needed for five babies and still actually be comfortable. I know Thanadir says he can handle it, but can he actually? Has he ever tried? Five babies is a lot of babies._

 _Given that the number of babies exceeds the number of Thanadir's arms, I might be inclined to agree with you. Though, I will deny it if you tell him I said that._

Lorna laughed silently. She had a sudden mental image of Thanadir with Allanah on his back, pushing a double stroller with each hand and the strap of a diaper bag clenched in his teeth - and, having had it, couldn't banish it. Eventually she gave up, and let herself sporfle behind her hands.

 _Well, you could have come up with an elk bearing saddlebags filled with nappies, so I will count myself grateful._ Before anyone could laugh too hard, they were docking. Thanadir held the very full bag of items for Allanah, which included two other large folded and empty bags. Earlene had the foresight to realize that shopping for sweaters and yarn might equal a great deal of bulk to carry home with them.

"The dilemma I see it is as follows. It's near lunchtime. We could shop for sweaters and have the rest of the day to see the island, only to be stuck with carrying around bulky purchases. So, someone besides me figure out in what order we will try and see the sights."

Thranduil took charge. "If I might suggest, from what you showed me, the very old ruins you wish to see are furthest away from here. If you indeed want to see them, we should do that first before you or Lorna can become too tired, hungry or uncomfortable. The rest will sort itself out. That would mean the next goal is procuring bicycles."

Beaming at him, Earlene nodded, glad that someone had a brain engaged. Solving such a basic problem should not be challenging in the least...but there was that world _should_. The walked the short distance to the bike hire, and thankfully, the proprietors of this business had already seen everything. There were bicycles with baby seats, tandems, singles, large ones, small ones, ones with small trailers. It was decided that Thranduil would have one with a trailer. The island roads were lonely and there would be little traffic. Earlene and Thanadir would take a tandem in case she wearied, though she did not expect to. Ratiri and Lorna chose ones they could each ride alone. They were all very serviceable. Thranduil led the way up the Cottage Road; their first little destination would be small Kimurvey beach, as they made their way to Dún Aonghasa.

It had been a long time since Lorna had really traversed her home country, and even longer since she'd been on a bike. Her center of gravity had shifted, so she wobbled a bit until her balance worked itself out. She was glad Thranduil had inadvertently made her quit smoking, or this would have got tiring in a hurry. As it was, she could appreciate the clean sea air without wheezing for it. That she had found a bike small enough surprised her, just as much as the fact that Ratiri and Thranduil had managed to each find one they wouldn't have to hunch over with. Mercifully, whatever Thranduil had done to keep her warm held, even though the breeze knifed its way through her jeans. Equally mercifully, none of them seemed to be in a hurry; it meant she didn't have to pedal flat-out to keep up.

The sun was bright and fierce, the beach unusually smooth and sandy, the water as blue as any lagoon in the tropics, though she wouldn't so much as dip a foot in it. Fortunately there weren't many people about; they pretty much had it to themselves.

They rode at a leisurely pace to the beach, which was a good place to stop and look at the views. Thranduil kept a very slow pace, mindful of Lorna. Earlene steered for herself and Thanadir, her balance and command being much better. And she thanked the elf, since his power alone would have been enough to move their bicycle; she was superfluous and was glad enough of the chance to save her energy for the sum of the day. A small graveyard caught Thanadir's attention, and he went to look at the stones. Some were in Irish, which he could not read; Lorna translated those for him. But some of the ones he could understand told of people lost at sea. He looked out over the immeasurable expanse of ocean, and reflected.

"It's a risk everyone takes living here, if they work on the water," she said. "The sea is greedy, my gran would say, and takes its own sacrifices. As much as I always told her it was nonsense, I sometimes wonder if she was right."

Ratiri shivered a little. He'd spent his childhood in the highlands, and hadn't seen the sea until he was sixteen. It was big and wet and cold, and it had _things_ living in it. Scientist though he was, some of the things to be found in the deep creeped him _right_ the fuck out.

Earlene took Allanah, and walked toward the shore and the water that seemed so very blue. Here all was very calm, not at all like the slightly rougher surf where they'd been. Thranduil followed, gazing happily down at her. _I do not expect to take up all your time,_ she said, peering up at him, _but I love having you to myself when I can._

 _Meluieg._ He held her, his hand moving discreetly down her belly out of the sight of anyone else.

 _I wish we could…_

 _As do I, Earlene,_ he said, nuzzling her affectionately, and leaning down to kiss her.

Sometimes she felt her love of him so much it hurt. Shaking her head and feeling determined to act her age, however hard it was proving, she returned a peck on the cheek to him, and began to walk toward the bicycles. They all resumed their ride, passing (of all things) an ice cream shop, which Earlene strongly suspected might become their lunch when they returned from seeing the fort. Weirdly, the visitor center was actually in Kimurvey, so they took their time seeing it and some of the shops that sold crafts before continuing to pedal toward the fort itself.

Earlene's mind seemed to register two main things. _Rocks and grass._ If nothing else, she already had tremendous admiration for the hard work and ingenuity it must have taken to live here, especially before 'tourism' was a known word in these parts. Soon, ahead, they saw the slate gray rocks looming. _Built 1100BC? Just...how? And why? Who came here, and what were they afraid of? And as old as this is..._ she cast a glance at Thanadir and Thranduil, once again having trouble processing it all.

"Zombies," Lorna said, leaning against Ratiri. "It'd be the perfect place to hole up in a zombie apocalypse. It doesn't look Roman, either - I don't think the Romans ever bothered out here. Not many people ever have, so this makes no sense."

"Maybe, thousands of years ago, this was some sort of way-station for boats?" Ratiri asked, though he sounded unconvinced of himself. "Having a permanent structure here would only make sense if there were enough people coming through to warrant one." How odd it was - this was ancient by human standards, yet Lorna had told him Thranduil was eighteen thousand years old, and Thanadir even older. It was too difficult to wrap his brain around, so he didn't bother; he just admired the view, arm around Lorna, squinting a little in the sunlight.

Thanadir wished to look over the cliff edge, and Earlene could not watch. _Please tell him to come back,_ she begged Thranduil. While she did not think him incapable, she'd read that these rocks could and did fall into the ocean at times. Though it embarrassed her that she could not control her irrational fear for someone else, it did not change that she could not. Her face was still buried in Thranduil's tunic when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned pink to see Thanadir smiling at her. "I am sorry," she whispered. He smiled and shook his head contentedly, and went to study how the rocks had all been stacked, for no mortar had been used in the construction of this site.

Eventually everyone had seen and taken pictures, and twenty minutes later they were ordering ice cream cones.

Ratiri knew better than to say anything about the size of Lorna's cone - he'd seen the picture she'd taken of the monstrosity she'd got in New York. Still, it looked comically huge in her tiny hands, and he had to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, for he knew she wasn't keen on being overly affectionate around a large - or even medium -number of people.

"Let's see what damage I can do on this bastard," she said. It was cookie dough, with whipped cream and sprinkles, and he shook his head as she set about figuring out the best way to eat the damn thing.

 _And I can't even tell her she's adorable_ , he thought, and turned his attention Allanah, who _was_ adorable, and who was too young to mind being called such. "She's handling this better than I would have expected," he said, wondering if Thranduil had something to do with that.

"She is still warm, not quite yet hungry, and thought the rocks were interesting. I would guess that we have twenty minutes before that shifts," he grinned. "By which time Earlene will have eaten her ice cream, and will be happy to sit somewhere quietly with her feet up to feed her. Then she will need her nappy changed, and we will likely have all be well until we return to the mainland. Little did I think that all those years of...my occupation...would be put to quite this exact logistical application," he chuckled, offering her the tiniest dab of his vanilla ice cream on her little lips, as the baby's eyes widened and she smiled happily.

"Managing with children is like managing nothing else," Lorna said. "Christ, I watched Mairead, when I first moved in with her...she's got four, and they were all young, and it was like watching them getting ready to storm the bloody beaches'v Normandy before school every day. I don't know why in God's bloody name she did this four times, though," she added, rubbing her stomach. "I'm not even three months gone and everything just feels...wonky. Earlene, what's it like, where you're at?"

"Well, it's only been very recent that I've started to feel tired more easily. Like more is going out of me than is coming in. I've tried my best to eat everything I can with plenty of nutrients, but I'm still hungry much of the time. And now if I eat big meals I feel unwell. Stuffed. So I'm trying to eat less, more often, but that isn't always easy to do. And my feet hurt sometimes, but I think it's because my posture is becoming rubbish. I lean back to try to counter the weight in my belly and...I think this is just how it goes, and then some." She shrugged helplessly. "Not sure what else I could do, really."

"We'll both be hating life come the finish, I'm sure," Lorna sighed. "Where around here do they sell the sweaters? I want yarn. I've never made a sweater before, but I'd love to try it."

"Booties," Ratiri said, stealing a bite of her ice cream. "Baby booties. Lots of them. They tend to get lost, or so I surmised from the sheer number of babies who would come in to Great Ormond Street with a mismatched pair. The dryer must eat them, like socks." He was tempted to learn to knit himself, just because.

"We'll wind up with a garbage sack'v them, by the time I'm done. Trust me."

Earlene silently pondered what on earth it would be like, with their children. Children that were going to be precocious and wholly outside her experience. Well, she'd find out. She finished her ice cream in record time, and sought out a quiet place to...manage, frowning at the sudden influx of visitors. _Just my luck,_ she grimaced. Thanadir took her arm.

"Come with me, I will help you not be seen by the others until you are arranged."

"You are an angel," she said, gratefully. He held up her large scarf in a way that did not attract attention, and then once Allanah was latched on, he draped it and arranged it in such a manner as to hide her body without smothering the baby. And, he stayed near, just to talk to her.

"You are very kind to me, Thanadir. I want you to know that I appreciate what you do for me, very much. More than I can say. You always manage to make everything...work."

"And you have been very kind, to care for your niece as your own daughter, Earlene. Plus you cook me food. Between you and I, I feel I have the better end of the arrangement," he teased.

"Meldir, you are developing a refined sense of humor." Earlene was not about to give up quite so easily.

"Perhaps," he said, grinning.

After they returned their bicycles, the Aran Sweater Market did not disappoint. "Lorna, they have clan sweaters. And kits. And yarn. And...everything." With delight, she looked through the patterns, finding the ones for O'Donovan and O'Sullivan, and privately liking Lorna's better. It was obvious to her that she was going to spend too much money in here, and she did not care. The clothes and knitted pieces were beautiful and would be treasured.

Lorna, beyond delighted, flitted around like a slightly sugar-crazed hummingbird, collecting patterns and yarn. While she was nowhere near capable of knitting one of these yet, she knew that if she didn't get there at some point before she popped these kids out, Gran would come and haunt her. She could make tiny sweaters first, for practice, and save Ratiri's for last. His would be biggest, and if she fucked up, it would be more easily noticed, so he didn't get one until she actually knew what she was doing.

"If you don't slow down, you won't have any energy to get back home," Ratiri pointed out.

"Killjoy," she said, but there was fondness to it. "Fine, fine. But there will be knitting, and lots of it."

"So long as we keep the cat out of your yarn, that will be fine." Ratiri wanted a cat, but they traveled between places so much it just wasn't practical.

"If we're lucky, Tail will stay confined to quarters", Earlene laughed. It was clear that Thranduil would offer no comment, so she asked the ellyn if they would want and wear sweaters of their own. Thanadir eagerly accepted, whereas Thranduil declined having a garment but very much wanted one of the sage green throws for their bed. In the end, her tally was two sweaters, a throw, a hooded scarf shawl and one of the knit wraps that looked like it was invented for a nursing mother. She would have felt silly and wasteful, except that these were warm, beautiful, and wearable all through her pregnancy and after. Winter was coming, and she lived in a cavern more than half the time. Unnoticed by her, Thranduil added yet one more item to her pile, something he thought would also be of great use.

Lorna grabbed a lovely purple hooded…thing, the same scarf/shawl thing Earlene had chosen, while Ratiri took several of the throws, knowing Lorna would want one tonight. He'd woken up with her plastered against his chest in the night, mumbling that she was cold, so at least one more blanket was a must.

"How did your mother cope with living in Scotland?" she asked him. "It's as cold and damp as Ireland."

"Space heaters," he said solemnly. "And lots of bright, colorful fabric. Poor Dad spent half the time walking around in his pants and vest because it was so hot to him."

"I really, really wish I could've met your parents," she said, shaking her head.

"It is 2:30, and our ferry departs at 4:00," said Thranduil. "May I suggest we eat something that is not ice cream?"

He was mildly glared at by the women, but that much time to kill made that decision an easy one. A lovely pub, Joe Watty's, was nearby and well-rated. _And they have seafood,_ Earlene smiled to herself. What she would want would be no secret. _Mussels, and a salad._

The interior of the pub was bright and airy, and smelled wonderful, except for the fact that it also smelled of beer. She didn't even have to ask; Thranduil automatically took care of the incipient nausea. After all that ice cream, she'd stick with some kind of appetizer. For all the smell of beer turned her stomach, she nevertheless looked longingly at the Guinness taps behind the bar. _Someday_ , she told herself. _Someday_. She wouldn't be stuck in pregnancy-limbo forever, unable to engage in any of her usual vices - not that she'd exactly had many left to begin with. Under Ratiri's gentle badgering, she forewent battered shrimp in favor of oysters, which were at least not deep-fried.

The problem with him, she had discovered fairly early on, was that he shared a variation on Thanadir's superpower: Ratiri couldn't have managed actual doe eyes if his life depended on it, but even when his coaxing aggravated her, the sheer tenderness of it usually made her go along with it anyway, because she didn't want to disappoint him. It was likely why he'd been such an effective pediatrician, but a perverse part of her wondered what he was like when he was really, really mad. She'd seen the tiniest flash of a hint a few times, always when he was dealing with some tosser, and she suspected that very, _very_ deep beneath the mellow surface of Ratiri lurked a temper every bit as intense as her own. He was, after all, half Scottish, and from the sound of it, his mother had been even more strong-willed. One didn't grow up in such an environment and come out of it entirely mild.

The food arrived swiftly, and no sooner had Earlene scooped the first shellfish into her mouth than a singer caught her attention. It was just...a lady, and she'd come in for a Guinness. Having taken two swallows, she had set her glass down, and begun a song in Irish. Her voice was strong, clear, and though Earlene couldn't understand a word of it, thought this was completely amazing. It had spirit to it, a sense of deep roots. And as an American, she had a very pure appreciation of the privilege of sitting here listening. Thranduil caught his wife's thoughts, and paid closer attention, realizing that for the mortals, this was an unlooked-for opportunity and very special.

Lorna smiled to hear it. It wasn't often you heard Irish spoken anymore in most places, but there were still a few where it was the dominant language. She'd teach her children, even if Ratiri might have difficulty with it - Irish was one of those languages that was learned a lot easier in childhood. Hell, even the elves didn't want to mess with it. Listening, she enjoyed her lunch and leaned against Ratiri, quite content. They appreciated the song while it lasted, and then with twenty minutes to catch the ferry, decided they'd best settle the bill and get themselves down the hill. Allanah expertly snoozed against Thranduil's shoulder, her little mouth open and drooling ever so slightly on the protective cloth draped over him, something for which Earlene admired her husband a great deal. How he could balance her and still manage to eat was quite beyond her comprehension. No one asked Thanadir to hold her at mealtimes, for reasons that did not need mentioning. But the older elf did come in handy, for he was put in charge of carrying the bulky bags of knitted garments and yarns, with which Ratiri had to help as well. Nothing was heavy, but the volume they were carting off was rather impressive.

Lorna, unfortunately, lagged slightly at the back, slowed by the heavy lunch and desire to enjoy the view. It meant she didn't have anyone taller nearby to keep her from getting mowed down from behind by a spotty teenage boy with one hand on the bike handlebar and the other taking a picture with his phone. She pitched forward with an odd sort of squawk, while he went arse over teakettle right over the top of her, landing hard on his side and leaving her - and, more annoyingly, her hair - tangled in the bike.

Thranduil immediately handed Allanah over to Earlene, and sprinted back up the hill. She looked helplessly at Thanadir but then realized that she had nothing to offer except minding the baby and their things; Ratiri had understandably dropped the bag he carried the moment he saw what had happened.

"What in bloody fucking -"Lorna snarled, trying to shove the thing off her, but her hair had decided to mimic Cthulhu, and had latched quite firmly onto the pedals

The boy, somewhat dazed, struggled to his feet, blinking at the tiny woman who was growling at him to get back there so she could rip his langer off and shove it down his throat. He didn't have a chance to do more than that, though, because a hand clamped around his collar and pulled just a bit too tight.

Ratiri was not a violent man. He was not an angry man; one of the American residents at Great Ormond Street had called him 'chill'. Just now, he was about as chill as a bottle of beer in a volcano, his grip tightening yet further. The boy stared at the ice in his grey eyes, going quite pale himself.

"Are your parents here?" Ratiri asked, his voice deceptively measured. A glance at Lorna told him Thranduil was with her, but he still didn't want to leave her for long. "My girlfriend is pregnant, and you just ran her over. Where. Are. Your. _Parents_?" He was thoroughly dismayed at how very much he wanted to punch this little shit; it was not like him at all.

The boy swallowed, pointing closer to the docks, but before Ratiri could drag him there, a freed, wild-haired Lorna came stalking up like a tiny avenging Fate. Ratiri might not be a violent man, but she had no compunction about punching the little sod right in the goolies. "If you can't fekkin' look where you're goddamn going, _stay off the bloody bike_ ," she growled, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as he all but folded in half.

His alarmed, increasingly irate parents came scurrying up, only to be faced with the ice in Ratiri's eyes and Lorna's rather obvious baby bump.

"Keep that animal on a leash," Ratiri snapped, wrapping his arm around Lorna's shoulders. To his own dismay, it took all his willpower not to kick the little shite right in the gut, but he didn't. That he should even consider it must mean Lorna was rubbing off on him.

Thranduil stood and watched the couple dispassionately as they fussed over the boy, glad that nothing worse had come of this. "Your son ran down a pregnant woman because he was looking at his phone instead of the path in front of him. You are very fortunate that she is uninjured," were the extent of his comments before he turned and left to join the others. Comments that were designed to remind them that rather than pondering how they could find 'justice' for their child's current state of discomfort, they should be concerned about far worse consequences. Without discussion they boarded the ferry, suddenly rather glad to put the ocean between themselves and that completely unnecessary incident.

Earlene sidled over to Lorna. "You're OK?" she asked. "I mean, I know you are or they'd be fussing. I just...wanted to hear it from you."

"Just pissed and probably bruised," Lorna said. "But at least all I did was punch him in the langer. That's personal growth, for me. Even a year ago I'd've probably broken his nose with a rock."

Ratiri, cold and still, said nothing, but he rubbed at Lorna's back, carding his fingers through her tangled hair before pulling her close. Some dark part of him, so deep he didn't want to admit it was there, longed to do that himself. The urge to harm that little shit had been far too strong, for him, even though it had been easily subsumed. That he could feel it that strongly at all troubled him. "I'll give you a back rub, when we're home," he said eventually. "I'm sure you'll want one."

Thranduil held his wife, saying nothing. Thanadir remained close by Earlene, not wishing to admit that he felt...baffled. It was obvious to him that everyone else was feeling varying degrees of emotion; no one was laughing or smiling, and all of them had gone quiet. But he did not understand; Lorna had not been harmed, none of their belongings were lost or damaged. But he liked it when Thranduil reached out his arm to draw him closer to them. He had almost always been able to believe that he mattered to his King, and yet never would have dreamed that one day he would be looked on as far more than a seneschal. _A seneschal who is carrying bags of sweaters_ , he frowned, even as Earlene hooked her arm loosely around his.

"Did you have a nice day, meldir?" she asked kindly, wondering what on earth an elf would think about this bleak and unusual place that yet had its own stark beauty.

He had to think about it. "I enjoyed seeing this place. I would not want to live here; I love the forest. And yet I see that it is special and that those who dwell here have made it their own."

Earlene smiled. "I could not have said it better myself."

The past three days had been glorious. As in, a glorious weather system moved into their area, and they watched the battering rain and rising surf through the French doors and picture windows while they steadily fed the wood stove. Plus, the house had ordinary heating, so it wasn't as if the bedrooms were made to freeze in the chill weather. Earlene had kept them in a steady stream of baked sweet treats, much to Ratiri's annoyance. Thranduil and Lorna continued to lurk in random corners of the home, having worked out multiple locations that allowed them to be the requisite distance from each other to play more games of chess. Occasionally one of the other of them would actually sit in the room with the television, but they had all realized days ago not to attempt conversation. Though occasionally, Earlene would slip a glass of Thranduil's wine into his hand and give a quick kiss to his forehead.

Thanadir had brought his violin, and spent long hours playing songs that he knew. Earlene tried something, which was to play some classical pieces for him on her computer. And it floored her, when at least with the simple ones, he could with almost flawless precision imitate the melodies. _I have an elven Mozart_ , she thought, pondering how she could help him learn more. And when the seneschal was not musically occupied or eating, he could be found at the puzzles. There had been eight good jigsaw boxes in the home; the largest was a 1500 piece monstrosity. He had begun taking note of the time he began, and seeing how quickly he could finish. She shook her head, and for her part watched random videos about everything from caring for farm animals to a few new Henri le Chat Noir posts she'd missed.

Ratiri himself was both troubled and fascinated. Troubled, because of his reaction to that idiot lad; fascinated, because the more he watched Thanadir, the more he wondered. Could Elves have similar conditions to humans? They were resistant to illness, yes, but if he was right, what Thanadir had was not an illness but a neurological condition, if that was actually possible. Thranduil might or might not know, given that he would have had no way of knowing what a neurological condition even was prior to his introduction to the modern world, and Ratiri was the only doctor he'd spent significant time around.

Between his ruminations and making certain Lorna ate a few vegetables in between sugary snacks, he was quite preoccupied, and had no chance to talk to Thranduil until the pair of them eventually came up for air from their games - had it been multiple, or were they still stuck in the same one? The two of them thought too much alike for it to be easy on either one (which was a tiny bit scary, all things considered). Given that Lorna wanted to take a nap, they had a while.

Sensing that Ratiri wished to converse privately, he poured some wine and walked up the spiral steps to the little loft of this house and seated himself, enjoying stretching out in a lovely armchair that actually fit his height.

Ratiri followed him, listening to the rain pound against the windows. _I'm not sure how much you've picked up from my mind in the last few months,_ he said, taking the other armchair. _This has only occurred to me in the last few days. Do you know what conditions of the brain are? The differences that can sometimes exist in one, but not another?_

Thranduil stared blankly, trying to glean from the man's thoughts what was being referenced. _I am afraid that I am not grasping what is in your mind. I am aware that mortals can have damage to both their emotions and their cognition, and that an assortment of causes can do this. And I am aware that minds differ; personalities vary among minds that would be considered 'healthy' both in humans and elves._

Ratiri considered this, pondering how best to say this. _There is a condition among mortals called Asperger's Syndrome,_ he said at last, _and Thanadir demonstrates some very striking characteristics of it, so I was wondering if it was something that might exist among Elves as well. When he is engrossed in something, the rest of the world appears to cease to exist; everything he does it precise in a way that I suspect is beyond what's normal for Elves. Watching him with the puzzles was what first made me think of it, and then I looked back at all the time I've known him. Asperger's is not a disease; rather, it's a...neurological difference, I guess you could call it, though that's not a true medical term. He seems occasionally to have a difficulty in reading people that I suspect isn't just the result of culture shock, because he otherwise looks like he's over that by now._

The King's first reaction was one of defensiveness, which he did his best to quell. _Are you trying to tell me that there is something...abnormal, about my seneschal? I do not understand. He excels beyond almost all others of our kind that I have ever known. This can be a...syndrome? Your understanding of mind and body is similar to yet very different than my own, Ratiri. It is as if we see the same statue, and yet you stand on one side and I on the other. I am afraid you will have to explain in greater detail. Pretend I know nothing about...anything._ The only reason he did not dismiss this discussion as both insulting and erroneous was the respect he had for this man's intellect. If he felt something was present, he owed it to him to listen very carefully, before disregarding him.

 _Some of humanity's greatest thinkers and artists and inventors are thought to have had Asperger's_ , Ratiri said. _Da Vinci among them - if you haven't read about him, you ought to. He's fascinating. Asperger's is not an abnormality in a negative sense - rather, call it a difference. It can be the source of the kind of focus Thanadir has, and that focus is what allows them to shut out distractions and excel at whatever they choose. They can ignore discomforts like hunger and temperature shifts - not that that's likely a problem for any Elf - because whatever has their attention has them completely engrossed. They can also obsessively keep records; is he more precise and detailed about that than would be ordinary for his job? It might be difficult to tell, there, but they tend to not want anyone else to touch something they've ordered or created, for fear of marring it. It's thought that people with Asperger's are why humanity has any written records, and where a number of our advances in science stemmed from. In other words, it's not bad. Just different. And if Thanadir was a human, I'd have given him a tentative diagnosis based on physical behavior, but as he is an Elf, I can't guess one way or another without further data._

Thranduil furrowed his brow, now hearing more things to which he could relate. _And what are these people you describe like when it comes to relationships? How do they relate to others?_

 _It depends,_ Ratiri said. _Some of them can't at all, while others simply have difficulty reading social cues - inability or difficulty to easily understand the emotions of others, or why those emotions are present at any given time. Those they are close to, they tend to be extremely loyal to, and may perceive a stranger as a rival for the attention of the person or people they care about. At other times they might welcome a stranger if there is something in that person they find they relate to, though they often can't articulate it. People with Asperger's very often have immense difficulty discussing their emotions, because they can't always put words around them even to themselves._

Thranduil found himself in a rather difficult dilemma. Everything Ratiri had just told him cast a blazing light upon thousands of years of his own bafflement at certain elements of Thanadir's behavior. And then there were recent events, which were to be kept confidential. But that all this could be the case because there was something organically different about the ellon? It was true, what he had said earlier. There was indeed only one Thanadir, for he had never seen nor heard of another elf with such a combination of attributes. And yet he had to make some kind of response. _I will consider what you have said. There are certainly some similarities; I will do what I can to learn more about this. And Ratiri...I do not think I need tell you that it would be best that Thanadir never know of this discussion. He would not understand how to hear the words as anything other than negative. And while there are limits to what I can ask of you, I would prefer that neither Lorna or Earlene hear either. I too am guilty of being overprotective. I care a great deal for Thanadir's welfare. And to that end, I am curious. Did you bring this to my attention because there is some means by which humans can help such a one, or was this solely by way of interest?_

 _I had figured this ought to stay between the two of us_ , Ratiri said. _I'm not sure any of the others would understand that it's not negative. Thanadir doesn't appear to need a great deal of help, but in some situations it might be...clarifying. I've seen him look somewhat baffled by things - on the ferry, he looked confused at our upset. There are times those with Asperger's can appear callous, but it's not callousness, or confused when there should be no confusion. At times he may simply need extra care when confronted with something new and utterly foreign - Lorna said he had some issues during his first trip in the car, but they were absent on subsequent trips._ He smiled. _I admit, she's rather protective of him, too, for all she knows he doesn't actually need it. She says that he is a precious cinnamon roll, too pure for this world. Whatever that even means._

Thranduil tossed his head back as a smile erupted. _I have yet to convince Lorna that behind that Precious Cinnamon Roll is a warrior of such ability that even she would be astonished. He cannot help his appearance of wide-eyed innocence. There was a time when even some of the elves thought the same. But for all those living now in our Halls...they have had thousands of years to understand Thanadir's ways; he is seen more as a prince than anything else. His command carries nearly the weight of my own. Trust me, no one wishes to see him displeased. He is stern but fair, and I do not know how I would have managed my rule without him at my side._

 _She told me what happened when she tried to fight him_ , Ratiri said, shaking his head. _Seeing him wonder at her sewing machine forever cemented him as a cinnamon roll, I think. She said it was the sweetest, most adorable thing she's ever seen in her life, and there is some truth to the immutability of first impressions. Between that and the ribbon roses...logically she knows that he's a badass, as she puts it, but in her mind he is first and foremost a cinnamon roll, to be protected at all costs. She also assumes that his job description is 'whatever you tell him to do'._

A small groan escaped Thranduil. _It has been difficult for me, with Lorna, who deeply dislikes even the word 'monarchy,' to know what makes for a fit topic for discussion. It had not occurred to me that the actual duties of a King's seneschal were of any interest to her. And 'whatever I tell him to do' is not how I would choose to describe it,_ he chuckled softly.

 _It's been rather difficult for her, too_ , Ratiri said. _She's hated the very idea of monarchy her entire life, and then she meets you lot, and you're nothing like anything she would ever have expected. I'm sure she'll get over that knee-jerk reaction eventually, but give her time. She likes you enough that she'll try, once the concept ceases to be an anathema to her. But given her personal history, she's just never going to understand the thought of voluntarily letting anyone rule you. If she hadn't gone to prison, that might be different, but she's independent to an exasperating degree. Mairead's amazed she'll let me take care of her at all. Thanadir, though - someday, you'll be able to explain what it is he does. Given that we've only seen him in certain circumstances, I'm not surprised that's her assumption, though._

 _It really is not so difficult to grasp. At one time, my realm was much like a human city; there were thirty thousand of us. And Thanadir was the level of organization just under me. It was his function to understand and monitor vast amounts of personnel and information, distilling all of that in order to allow me to make informed decisions, enforce laws, pass judgements. It also fell to him to see that my commands issued down to whatever level of effectiveness required them. What you see of us now is not what used to be._

Ratiri could imagine it, given his reading, and the lifetime of imagination he'd spent among some of Tolkien's books. Lorna, he was sure, simply would not; she didn't have the background, but she could perhaps come close. _Do you ever wish it was possible for any to return from Aman, or are you content as things are? I know your population is greatly reduced, but your Halls are lovely no matter how many live in them, and those who are left must love Ennor with tenacity, to have hung on so long. It's selfish of me, but I'm glad you're all still here. I didn't realize just how empty my life was, before I came to Ireland and you let me in. I don't think I've ever actually thanked you for that._

 _You are welcome,_ said Thranduil, appreciative of the acknowledgement. _As for the other...one thing both my wife and I share in common, Ratiri, is that neither of us are very good at what-ifs. We both tend to consider matters as they are, content to ignore what cannot be. So your question is difficult for me to answer. I have only ever tried to focus on my duty at any given point in time. Though...it would be dishonest for me to tell you that I would not like to see my son again, who I love very much. And yet others who have crossed the sea...perhaps would not be so eager to see me, or I them. We do love our forest; I believe we will love it until the Earth is made new._

Ratiri wondered when and how that would happen. Just about every religion had its own idea of Dagor Dagorath, and none could agree on the details. _Something tells me you'll have Lorna's and my descendants for God knows how many years to come_ , he said. Lorna, who thanks to Thranduil was fine despite having been run over by that bloody sod...even thinking about it made his blood pressure creep up. Never had he wanted to hit someone so very much. He'd only ever been in a single fight, and that was in secondary school; violence was just not something he did, or even wanted to do, so why now?

The King had no desire to speak about descendants, because while their time here had allowed the others to forget the danger that threatened them, he could not. Discussing an uncertain future felt to him like tempting fate just now. Yet conveniently, another topic had been provided, so he smiled. _You are to be a father. The desire to protect our loved ones runs very strong, does it not?_ It was really only after the words had been thought that he realized, this subject was not on any safer ground than the other.

 _I suppose you're right,_ Ratiri said. _It disturbs me somewhat, that I could wish for that, but the timing certainly makes sense._ He laughed silently. _I'm just relieved Lorna didn't do anything worse than punch him in the bollocks. God knows I wanted to do worse, but at least he may have trouble using it for anything at all for a while._ On that vein, he felt his face heat. _Speaking of which...question._

 _Yes?_ Thranduil said as kindly as was possible, both dreading what this might be and yet not wishing to say anything that would cause the man to shun seeking him out. That he had gained this much trust surprised even him.

Ratiri felt his face heat even further. Wonderful. _In the library, do Elves have any...uh, books on intimacy? Because...um._

Thranduil smiled and nodded. _But they are written in Sindarin. Then again, they are illustrated. And just about every wed ellon in the Realm has probably made their way to it at one time or another. Perhaps even a number of the ellith as well, but that is beyond my knowledge. I will not claim exemption,_ he grinned.

Ratiri was practically certain his face would catch fire soon enough, which was just ridiculous. He was a goddamn doctor; were this situation any but his own, he would be able to discuss it quite coolly, but unfortunately it _was_ his situation. _I'm sure I'll work it out,_ he said. _I'm still terrible at reading it, but I'll...give it a shot._ If it could be of any help at all...but then, he doubted most (or any) Elves had his and Lorna's particular issue. _Remind me to give you a copy of the Kama Sutra. It's India's answer to...whatever it is you have. Ask Earlene._ Not that he at all wanted to think of either of them in that context, but...they'd probably enjoy it?

 _I will,_ he smiled. _Ratiri, you need not...fear, this topic, with Earlene or I. We both try to give some regard to propriety with others, but I think it is safe to say that neither of us have qualms about discussing this part of our lives, as long is it is done with tact and respect._ He declined to mention some of the things Earlene had hammered at, where Lorna was concerned.

Jesus...might as well go for broke, though he had to look at the ceiling to ask this question. _I'll just get this out while I'm still able to do it without spontaneously combusting_ , he said. _Do you know of anything that can be done about...size disparity? All I'll say is that it's caused issues, including making us fall off the bed more than once, though the other night was the first time anything got broken or dislocated. It's no good for either of us if it leaves her hurting._ That was just about as delicately as he could phrase it; he wasn't going to add that Lorna at one point likened it to being punched in the cervix.

 _I see,_ said Thranduil, though truthfully he actually did not want to see at all. And equally truthfully, he could cause what was small to become large, and what was large to become small. He swallowed. _Ratiri, I too must say something awkward for me and just...put it out there, as I think you humans say. I am nearly unable to even think about Lorna in this manner. Partly because of what happened to her, partly out of respect for her privacy, partly out of my friendship with her, and partly because of what I believe she would call 'squickiness.' You are a different story entirely; we are both males in a relationship with another that we love. It is from this viewpoint that I can manage to communicate. I can cause a body to change; it is within my ability. Were you very certain you wanted this, I would help you, though it would be a little awkward even for me. And yet, were I to have this same difficulty with Earlene, I believe I would give or do almost anything to find a solution. It is...a valued part of our lives._

Oh _God_. This was officially the most embarrassing conversation Ratiri had ever had in his entire life, and that included both his parents sitting him down to give him the Talk when he was eleven. He couldn't tell them he already knew about all that, but it was a good thing he _had_ known, or they would have made the whole concept horrifying. Did he want to go through this? Um, no. Hell no. Too awkward to be borne, but if it meant things could actually...work...without hurting, he could probably endure it without actually catching fire from sheer mortification. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. _It's probably my only real option,_ he said. _I could certainly never ask Lorna to, uh, have things adjusted; she'd die of embarrassment and probably poke me until I gave in and left her to it._

Thranduil nodded sympathetically, considering how he would feel, were he in Ratiri's proverbial shoes. And part of him wondered...was Ratiri really so...oversized? or was it just that Lorna was too... _by Eru I do not wish to think about this._ He only knew one size, his own. While he had certainly seen other ellon disrobed, he doubted any ellon had ever seen another aroused.

Ratiri winced. _I can honestly say this is not something I would ever in my life have thought I'd need to ask, but can you take a bit off the old Johnson?_

For quite possibly the first time in all his long life, Thranduil felt so much heat in his cheeks that he considered he might be blushing. _Ah, we are discussing then length and not girth? Please know how sorry I am to have to inquire, but I think we would both appreciate no mistakes being made._ Thranduil looked up at the ceiling. _And...did you wish this done incrementally, for lack of better words? I would think that perhaps a rapid adjustment could be too obvious?_ The King's eyes looked hopelessly chagrined, but he determined to carry on however horribly awkward this was.

Ratiri shut his eyes in silent pain. _Length_ , he said, a touch wretchedly. _Incremental might be...I can't believe I've even asked you this. She'd be less likely to notice that, I think._

 _Alright. We can both squarely agree on the fact that this is for a higher cause. We are both well aware that we feel awkward and embarrassed and...this is no one's fault, Ratiri. I should say now, that I am in awe, that you would trust me not only to speak about this but to...help you. I am so sorry to ask but...I would like to leave your privacy intact and not touch you except over your clothing. But...I have no idea of your...size. When you are aroused. I must have some frame of reference._ Thranduil looked at him helplessly, feeling fairly certain that he couldn't believe he had asked this, either.

 _You want me to...measure? Lorna's going to wonder what the hell I'm doing. Unless...oh, hell, we have two bathrooms._ Thranduil was handling this rather better than he was. _What I don't know is whether or not we have anything like a measuring tape._ It wasn't something one would habitually pack...wait. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the app store...yep. There was an actual damn app for that.

 _Do your best,_ he said encouragingly. _I do not require extreme exactness, only some kind of understanding._

 _I'll...be right back._ Out of some kind of politeness, Ratiri retreated to the furthest bathroom - that way poor Thranduil wouldn't have to realize that yes, it was thoughts of Lorna that got things going. The app was somewhat difficult to get right at first, but once he had his number, a few thoughts of Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day took care of the...issue...nicely. Fortunately, he didn't run into Earlene or Thanadir on his way back upstairs, or he might well have melted into a puddle and died.

 _Nine inches,_ he said, not knowing where to look, other than not at Thranduil. _I'm not sure how much I'd need to...er, take off...for things to be more copacetic._

Every effort was made to keep his expression neutral. _While I do not claim to have extensive knowledge of such things, I believe that you are unusually endowed. I will be blunt, in the interests of camaraderie. While I have not measured with great accuracy, I am less than seven inches, and yet we are the same height or close to it. Earlene seems to find me...pleasing, and has never complained of pain. That being said, at what rate do you feel this should be...managed?_

That...was a surprise. Oh, Ratiri had known he had a bit more below the belt, but not _that_ much. Jesus. It was also a very good question. _All right, I know you don't want to think about this, so I'll keep it as vague as I can, but is there anyway to have the...increments...occur one at a time after intercourse?_ Might as well keep it as clinical as possible, and think about the sand outside rather than anything...else.

 _Yes. This can go at any pace you choose. And to be clear, I can reverse the process *slightly* should you feel an error has been made toward the end. What I truly do not wish to do is correct grave errors. Perhaps now take a few moments and consider how you wish to begin. I will also point out that it will be far easier for us to have a few discreet moments alone here and there while still on this holiday. Once we return home, finding reasons to vanish together might be more challenging. I would hazard that both of us desperately wish not to be seen while thus occupied._

How was this Ratiri's life? How? _Good idea,_ he said. _I will see what I can do about...er, tonight. I don't know that she'd notice a quarter of an inch._ He was going to die, he _was_. He was going to burst into flames of sheer mortification and leave nothing but a tiny pile of ashamed ash on the floor.

 _That will not happen. Though perhaps when this is done, you and I should walk to the pub in town. I somehow feel we will deserve it. Earlene will not wish to go out in this cold, and Thanadir will choose to stay with Earlene._ He sighed. _If you could undo your trousers, just the button and part of the zipper. I need to touch you here,_ he demonstrated on himself.

Ratiri, intensely relieved that things could proceed from the internal, as it were, did as directed. This was far less awkward that it might have been if they'd attempted this purely externally; the lower abdomen was quite preferable to actually dealing with his junk.

Thranduil gingerly laid his hand on Ratiri with one last instruction. _I think we can also both agree that if anyone ascends those stairs that you are to push my hand away by any means necessary._ His expression was a perfect mixture of squeamishness and humor before he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He did what he did, and it was over in approximately twenty seconds. He resumed leaning back in his chair. _Life is always full of new experiences, Ratiri, regardless of age. Remember that._

Ratiri couldn't help it - he burst into quiet laughter, barely managing to smother it. _Thank you,_ he said. _I believe I owe you a pint. Or twelve._ Lorna was likely still asleep, and given her issues with the smell of beer, probably wouldn't want to go anyway, but he'd bring her back a pastry just in case. As if she hadn't had enough already. _This is horribly awkward, but I just want her to be happy._

 _And that we can agree on,_ he said. _Come, let us away. Though, even I cannot manage twelve pints,_ he snickered.

The remainder of their time was spent largely in happy laziness. Earlene forced herself to go for daily walks lest she completely turn to jelly, and they all went on one longer outing to see Doolin Castle on one of the days that was fine, and ate one dinner at the pub. Though they all agreed, the food on Inis Mor had been better.

When their time was at an end they had the drive home, and Thranduil turned over many things in his mind. The discussion that would not leave him was what Ratiri had surmised about Thanadir. He found himself drifting back to a very long time ago, recalling carefully what had occurred in the past, particularly the disastrous meeting of Thanadir and Erestor. All this time later, and the embarrassment, confusion and pain of poor Erestor still echoed in his mind. It had been the same year as the Lord Elrond had departed for the Havens...

It was a fine summer day, when Erestor and Glorfindel at long last set their horses' hooves on the elf-path to Thranduil's Halls. While the Chief Counselor of Imladris had felt more than capable of making the journey alone, his longtime (and rather overprotective) friend would not hear of it. "I want to meet you in Aman because you arrive at the shore, not because you passed through the Halls of Mandos," the golden warrior quipped. And truthfully, Erestor was glad of both the extra measure of protection and the company, for it was just over a three weeks' ride at the best pace their horses could manage. Though these parts had been cleansed of evil, unwelcome surprises could still lurk in unexpected places. And though Erestor was more than capable with knife, bow and sword, he would never be the mighty force of nature that was Glorfindel.

"Soon I will be safe enough here, with the time to fulfill one last duty on these shores, old friend. Though I imagine, you and I will not meet in Ennor again. You mean to depart quite soon yourself, after your return to the valley?"

His golden head nodded in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the new-growing trees. Though not so many seasons past this forest had burned in a conflagration, renewal surrounded them, and some virtue still remained with lands cared for by elves. "Yes. It has been many long years, since I have seen Aman, and I will confess that I am eager to find rest. Eager to turn my mind to all the pursuits I have set aside in my long service on these shores. Not to mention, old friends. I hope to renew a great many relationships. Who knows what homes my family has built, in what cities our people live? Know that you would always be welcome, Erestor, under any roof in which I also dwell. You have been my good friend all this long while as we served the Lord Elrond together. I would say that I will miss you, except that it is my hope to barely notice your absence before I see you again."

The dark elf chuckled at his friend's direct yet sincere humor. "Thank you, mellonenin. Though as you know, part of why I am here is that I do not yet have a clear sense of what I want; only that the world around me has changed and I no longer feel certainty concerning where I wish to be. Unlike you, I have ever been more reserved. I have made few close ties, preferring scholarship and service. And now that neither of those things are particularly necessary any longer..." he shrugged, his glossy black braids glinting in the sun.

"You feel as though you may manage one more effort for posterity, in mining Thranduil's library for knowledge which our own may lack," Glorfindel finished drily. While he personally did not find Erestor's wishes to be any kind of worthwhile reasoning, he cared about his friend too much to offer such a blunt assessment.

"You do not approve," Erestor said. It was a statement, not a question; he knew that tone of voice.

Glorfindel sighed. "It is only that it would not be my choice, meldir. I have no right to comment on this and you do not need my approval. Know that at the end of the matter, the joy of your heart is what I desire you to find. And if it is to be here, among the trees of Eryn Lasgalen, then I am content."

 _The joy of my heart_ , thought Erestor sadly. _My heart has been content, but I do not know that it has ever felt joy._ He had heard the whispers. Erestor the Strict, Erestor the Grumpy, Erestor the Dour. He could not help his coloring, nor the shyness that had always been his. Lord Elrond had understood, that he found greater comfort among his manuscripts and his books than in the large gatherings in the Hall of Fire. Though sometimes Glorfindel or Lindir would drag him to these, insisting that he make an occasional appearance. And he obliged them, not wishing to be thought uncaring of others or a complete recluse. It was not that he was incapable of asserting himself; quite the opposite. Some had taken a look at his slender frame and assumed that he had no skill at arms. They had been swiftly disabused of such notions, quite often in a sparring ring under the watchful eye of Glorfindel, who took great pleasure at adjusting the thinking of those who would disrespect his friend.

These memories caused him to smile, and at the end of a few more days' easy walking they at last found themselves at the gates to the last elven kingdom in Ennor. A guard welcomed them and saw that their horses were cared for, and escorted them inside. "I am to take you to Aran Thranduil, my Lords. We are honored by your presence."

Erestor and Glorfindel both privately marveled to see these caverns, that were an echo of Menegroth long lost. They were led across stone archways to the throne of the King, where they bowed deeply before the great Elvenking Thranduil, who descended and greeted them warmly. "Welcome, my Lords, to my Halls. It is not often that we have such esteemed guests. Lord Erestor, the purpose of your stay with us is intriguing, and when you have taken refreshment I would like to hear much more of it. And...I was unclear about one matter. You are welcome here always, but we were unsure about the intended length of your visit?"

Erestor smiled but allowed his face to show only dignified confidence. "The uncertainty, my Lord, is because of my uncertainty. I have not yet reconciled myself to the changes that have come over our people in the twilight of our time in Ennor. It may be that I would wish to stay some months, and it may be...if you would consider accepting my service, my Lord, that I would offer myself to dwell permanently among you. If, that is, you would welcome it. I do not mean to presume."

Thranduil's eyes widened. The talents and intellect of Erestor of Imladris were legendary. "It is I who would be honored, should that be your desire, Lord Erestor. But you have journeyed far and now is not the time to speak of such things. Before my steward, Galion, leads you to your chambers, I wish to introduce my seneschal, Thanadir."

This was the first time Erestor of Imladris would see the ellon who was in some ways the embodiment of both his own position and Glorfindel's. Wide brown eyes of unreadable demeanor greeted them formally, the seneschal's head bowing for exactly the correct amount of time in acknowledgement of their station. There was no warmth in them, and no welcome. Only a cold efficiency. The faintest traces of a frown passed over the King's face, but were banished immediately.

Erestor passed from shelf to shelf in the Library, frustrated. Glorfindel departed over two weeks ago; they said their parting words privately, and thus far, Erestor was finding his new life to be a study in contrasts. The King to whom he might one day bend his knee had been kind and effusive in his welcome, going out of his way to ask about his well-being at times when Erestor knew that he had many duties. But the King's seneschal, *that one* was enough to cause him to tear at his hair. It had seemed well enough, in the beginning. A large desk was provided for him in the library itself, with a generous supply of ink, parchments and quills. But when he began to explore the archives, he could not perceive the system of organization. He was far from dimwitted, and yet four solid days of careful investigation yielded nothing onto which he could impose a frame of reference.

When he next saw Thranduil, he mentioned this in passing, hoping that he was overlooking something simple and easily overcome; it was not unheard of and even the brightest could make mistakes. So it was with dread in his heart when Thranduil informed him that he would send Thanadir to assist him. He did his best to thank him and pretend that he was pleased at the King's response.

And so it was, that Erestor sat at his desk reading a volume when he heard the sound of a throat clearing. Though he arguably outranked Thanadir by the convoluted rules of their culture, he did not want to get into...that. The raven-haired elf rose and bowed, according Thanadir all possible respect. "Your Excellency," he said, keeping his eyes lowered at first. "I am sorry to disturb you. I have not been able to discern the organization of the collection here, and hoped you might enlighten me."

Thanadir stared at Erestor. He did not want him here. They did not need him here. _He_ did not need him here. For two ages he had managed this Realm under his King, and the last thing he wanted was for his position to be threatened by the well-known gifts of this ellon of Imladris. What if Thranduil liked Erestor better? What if Erestor proved smarter, more capable? Everyone knew of his achievements. Why could he not have gone to Aman like the others? _Why come here?_ What he said aloud was, "The collection is arranged primarily chronologically, and secondarily by subject."

Erestor was boggled. All his long years of diplomatic skill were necessary to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull. _Why in Eru's name would anyone choose such a ludicrous system?_ He could be here until the Fifth Age, trying to work that out. And yet his eloquence abandoned him, as he raised his eyes and tried to find something to say that was both helpful to his wishes and not critical.

Impatient with the dark elf's silence, Thanadir spoke again, in a voice laden with curtness. "If you wish to reorganize it, be my guest. I would only ask that you create a system by which to locate the items. Our numbers are reducing as more of our people depart, and there is no one who can be spared to assist you." While the seneschal kept his face neutral, he saw that his words had the desired effect. It was a monumental task, what he proposed, hidden behind the thinnest veneer of sympathy.

"I will try again, with this new information," said Erestor, managing a half-smile. "Thank you for your valuable time, Your Excellency."

After Thanadir departed, Erestor squeezed his eyes shut. As much as he did not wish to, he had little choice but to apply himself to the reorganization, else he would never accomplish anything. Every last item.

For two solid months, he worked long days until his back ached by every late afternoon, appearing only to take meals when he was hungry in the Dining Hall. He had abandoned the dress of Imladris, with its longer robes and surcoats, in favor of the leggings and tunics preferred by the Wood Elves. In his neat and exacting script, he made a note of every single record, every volume, every scroll. It was fortunate that the library had few users, because in the first four weeks of his activity masses of materials were piled on the tables as be conducted the removal from the shelves.

The only positive, if there was a positive, was that by this means he saw all of the material. Everything. And by the time he had reached the three-quarters mark of completion, he believed he had reasonable insight into the nature of the collection. That is, until the day came that found him in the farthest reaches of the cavern, and he discovered a single volume in a single alcove. Curious, he opened it and blushed furiously, even as he could not take his eyes from the material. He had never wed, never felt a calling toward one who could be a mate. And while he had never truly given any thought to the marriage rites of their people, these illustrations left no doubt as to what could be presumably enjoyed with an elleth, once joined before Eru. Shaking his head, he slammed the cover closed. Propriety demanded that this be left alone; it was not a fit thing to view for one who was single with no intention to wed.

Which was why when he looked up to see Thanadir watching him with arms crossed and eyebrows raised, there were not words for his horror. In the four thousand years of his life, he had never been this humiliated. He could not move, he could not speak. But the seneschal did. "I came to see what progress you have made. It would appear you have discovered many things, Lord Erestor."

There was nothing else for it; he'd been caught. He held his head up as best he could. "I can at least say that I closed the cover before I was aware you were here," Erestor said softly. "We do not have such materials in the library at Imladris. I will not be viewing it again; nor will I remove it; it seems obvious that it is hidden back here for a reason. Do you wish it included in the catalog?" It was the absolute best he could do to try to find some humor in something he did not find terribly funny.

"I do not view that which is unseemly," said Thanadir. "I will leave it to your judgement that if it is not acceptable for use by all, it should be excluded," the seneschal said coldly. Erestor walked past him, out of the alcove, moving toward his desk. Anything, to step away from the accursed book. Thanadir followed him, and glanced down at Erestor's cataloging. "May I?" he asked, indicating the sheaves of parchment.

"Of course," Erestor said humbly. He waited patiently as Thanadir examined the work. While his expression remained unreadable, inside of himself the seneschal seethed and roiled as he beheld the beautiful, neat script. It was better than his own. It was perfection. It was _intolerable_.

"What will you do, when you have completed the catalog?" asked the seneschal.

It was the most conversation this elf had been willing to provide since his arrival. How Erestor had hoped that they might be friends, since their respective duties for their Lords must be so similar. He missed Imladris. He missed Lord Elrond. And Glorfindel. He even missed the twins, at this point in his lonely existence here. "I have identified the volumes that I believe may contain records useful to my research," Erestor said softly. "I will begin reading them, and taking what notes I deem will be valuable, possibly including transcribing some passages. If I return to Imladris, my work must be something that my horse can manage to carry."

"If?" queried Thanadir. "Surely you cannot wish to stay here. The forest is miserable in wintertime, and the caverns cold. Why would you want to live among us, when you could have Aman?"

"Why do you live here, Thanadir, if I may ask? Perhaps my reasons are not so different than your own."

The seneschal drew himself up, his eyes beginning to blaze. "I have vowed to serve my King, whom I love and will never leave."

Erestor's lips parted at the force of this response. He was stunned at the aggression behind the words. "Your Excellency, have I offended you? I have done my best to work and disturb no one."

Thanadir's self-control crumbled. "You are not wanted here, Lord Erestor of Imladris. You are not needed here. I have no feelings on the matter." With that, Thanadir turned on his heel and stormed out.

Erestor was stunned. He had thought that Aran Thranduil had wished to make him welcome, but if this was what his own seneschal was saying... _I was a fool to come here_ , he thought, as he felt his heart breaking. _I would have given you my very best, King of the Woodland Realm, but I have just enough pride remaining to not be fed deceptions. If these were your feelings, better you had refused me altogether. I had only hoped for a home yet in Ennor, among my own people._

He looked around at the huge library, that would require another two full weeks' effort to set in order. _Two full weeks, for what? When I have no future here? Better I leave now, before the Redhorn Pass is lost to me and I must endure in these Halls until the springtime._ While it pained him that his impeccable reputation would suffer for this, the choice was clear. He must abase himself before the King one last time, to beg provisions for the journey. Surely these would not be begrudged, if his presence here was so unwelcome. He stood immobile, tears streaking down his cheeks from his closed eyes, trying to summon the courage to seek out the King. He need not have bothered.

"Lord Erestor?" Thranduil said, shocked at the appearance of his guest.

The ellon's dark brown eyes flew open. Would there be no end to his humiliations, this day? _Are the Valar cursing my very existence?_

"My Lord," the counselor said, desperately trying to master his trembling voice."Forgive me, for this. I am afraid you have found me in a difficult moment."

Thranduil moved around, reaching out to him, and Erestor recoiled. "Please, my Lord. I was about to come to beseech you for provisions, so that I may leave. I never wanted to cause such disruption."

"Leave? Disruption? Erestor, what in Eru's name has happened to you? Explain yourself!" Thranduil felt incomprehension and a sense of deep foreboding fill him.

"Your seneschal told me I was not wanted or needed here, my Lord. I presumed he was speaking on your behalf," Erestor all but whispered, even as he blanched at the transformation of this beautiful King's face into one darkening with pure wrath that struggled to master itself.

"You will please be seated, Master Erestor, at your desk. And I will sit in this chair near you. And neither of us are leaving until I have a full understanding of what has transpired for you in your time here." The King's sea-blue eyes glittered.

Erestor felt intensely uncomfortable; he was being asked to divulge very private information. It was not a request, it was a demand. And yet if he had contemplated swearing fealty to Thranduil, surely he had best explore this constraint now and not later? Thranduil was a King, and he claimed the rights and powers of his station. To serve him meant not being able to say No. "Yes, my Lord," the dark elf replied miserably. And so he started at the very beginning, and ended with where he was found.

The King kept his silence for many minutes while his eyes blazed with anger, and he weighed many things. Finally, he raised his head and spoke. "Erestor, there are no adequate words for my embarrassment at the treatment you have received. I have only one question for you. Is there any means by which this situation could be mended, in your eyes? You have been wronged and assaulted with unspeakable rudeness by one I believed to be beyond reproach. Regardless of your answer, this is a shame I will bear for the rest of my days." Those blue eyes were fixed on those of the Counselor.

Erestor thought, very carefully. "I have spent my life advising others, my Lord, and I do not believe I am answering your question lightly or carelessly. It is obvious to me that your seneschal, for reasons I do not understand, cannot abide me. And if I may be blunt, you would be forced to choose one of us over the other. I will not remain in a place where I would be responsible for displacing one who has served you loyally, just as I have served my own Lord. I will not lie. I had thought to offer myself in your service, with no hopes or expectations of a position of favor. I have...done all of that, my Lord. The ambition I came here with was only one of finding a sense of family among my people on these shores, to replace the family I had that has broken apart. I would counsel both of us, please, allow me to return to Imladris. Wherever I am to go, it is not here. Perhaps this is the will of the Valar, to turn me to Aman. I have no wish to remain where I am reviled," he said with downcast eyes. "Please."

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. "As much as it pains me to say it, I must agree with you, Lord Erestor. You are a jewel, and would have been treasured by me. Honored. Your intelligence and your noble heart would have added grace, wisdom and beauty to my Realm, but it seems this is not to be. I am angrier with my seneschal than I can say, but something more is amiss. As he is my subject, this is my mess to clean up, so to speak. I will not delay you. You wish to depart at once?"

The dark elf nodded. "As soon as I can gather my few belongings."

"Your horse will be saddled and provisioned, and you will be escorted by my guard over the mountain pass."

Erestor opened his mouth to protest but the King held up his hand. "It is the one thing I can do to even begin to redress what has happened," he said. "I only hope that should we ever meet again, that you would consider calling me a friend. I would very much have liked to have known you, Erestor of Imladris," the King said sadly, placing his hand over his heart. "Farewell."

Thranduil rose and left the room and with one last look around him, Erestor did the same. The King stormed back to his throne, his face darkening more with every step. He turned to his guards. "You will find Thanadir the seneschal, and you will arrest him. You will take him below to a cell. Above all, he is not to be harmed." The guards looked at each other, and at the King, dumbfounded. "Have I spoken words that were in any way unclear?" he all but shouted at them. They looked at each other again and left immediately.

Thanadir sat in his quarters, staring at the wall with eyes wide open but unseeing. His life must surely now be over. Even as he left the library, he could not really understand how the words had come forth from his lips. He knew why he had felt threatened, he comprehended that much of his feelings. But how had it gone so far? That was what he could not grasp, no matter how many times his shameful words replayed in his mind. When the heavy knock came at his door, it was more than half-expected. He rose and opened, lowering his eyes. "I will not resist you," were his only words to the guards that led him away.

He was given extra blankets, and extra food, but they went untouched. For three days, he only sat and thought, his appetite nonexistent. His hands were cold, but he did not notice. Everything seemed to stop, although from time to time he did drink the water he was given, and he was forced to address the necessities of life as well. Otherwise, he did not speak, or move. Sometimes he fell asleep, slumping against the cavern wall, but it brought no comfort.

Thranduil could stand it no longer, when the same report was given to him each day. He descended the pathway, and waved at the guard with a gesture to open the cell door. "Leave us," were his only words. He entered, and stood before his disgraced seneschal, who did not appear to see him. "Thanadir," he finally said, beginning to worry. The brown eyes raised to his, and he immediately knelt before his King. "Explain yourself," Thranduil demanded. "Explain why you took it upon yourself to drive off my honored guest with unkindness and lies."

"I cannot," Thanadir whispered, his palms held up to Thranduil in a gesture of submission. "I have asked myself this same question for every waking minute and I cannot. I cannot even ask for your forgiveness," he said, tears now splashing from his eyes. "I can only tell you that I am deeply ashamed, and very sorry. I do not deserve a place in your service."

"What am I to do with you, Thanadir?" the King said, now agitated. "This is not the first time, though it is most assuredly the _worst_ time." He ran his hands through his flaxen hair, exasperated and troubled beyond measure. "And you cannot or you will not tell me why."

"I do not know, my King," he sobbed. "There is something the matter with me and I do not know what it is. I am so sorry..."

This was breaking both their hearts. Thranduil knelt down and took his seneschal in his arms. "I love you, meldir, but I cannot ignore this. You have overstepped your bounds in a manner I would not have believed possible." He pulled up the far more slender elf to sit next to him. "You will be returned to your quarters, Thanadir. You will not leave them, and you will be relieved of your duties for a month."

"Yes, my King," Thanadir whispered, hanging his head. It was far more generosity than he deserved.

Many days passed, in the beginning, and word returned to Thranduil that Thanadir's food was going largely uneaten. In spite of their diminishing numbers, it had not been easy to manage in the seneschal's enforced absence, and he had had little opportunity to consider other matters. It had not occurred to him that this would happen. When the time for the next meal came, he entered the elf's rooms with his tray of food to find thhe rooms dim, and cold. His bedchamber door was open, and yet he was not in his bed, which showed no sign of having been slept in. Turning around, baffled, he looked carefully until he saw that Thanadir was curled into a ball at one end of his sofa, asleep. He had mistaken him for some piled items of clothing. With his heart wrenching, he laid down the tray and took the ellon's hand to feel it was cold. With a sigh, he turned to the fireplace, which was laid, and started a blaze. He studied Thanadir, who had unquestionably grown thinner, and had never felt so at a loss. Yes, he deserved consequences for his actions. But not like this. He may as well have been left in the dungeon cell, and this had gone too far.

"Thanadir," the King spoke, drawing the weakened elf to him, waking him. Dull eyes looked back, not comprehending. "You cannot go on like this, meldir. Or do you mean to leave me?" he asked softly. Thanadir's head shook No, and he began to cry again. Thranduil held him tightly, soothing him. "I forgive you, meldir. I want you to eat, and begin taking care of yourself. If you will promise me to do this, I will come to see you every few days. Please do not force me to command you, Thanadir. Not for this." Thanadir still cried, but he nodded his agreement. "No more tears," Thranduil said, rocking him as though he were an elfling until he regained some equilibrium. "Now you will sit at your table with me, and take food." No words were spoken, but as Thanadir ate, the King's large hand steadily rubbed his back. It was an obvious struggle, for him to eat the entire meal, but at last it was managed. "Stand up, now," Thranduil asked. His fingers came under the seneschal's chin, forcing him to look up. Only his considerable willpower and discipline allowed the King to speak in spite of the pitiful expression he found there. "You are loved, meldir. I love you. You are to care for yourself. Bathe. Remain warm. Play your instruments, read your books. Do you understand?"

Thanadir nodded. "Yes, my King." Thranduil embraced him, and when he felt his own ribs encircled in return, he smiled. He had won. With a kiss to his forehead, he turned and departed.

At the end of this time, a chastened and quiet seneschal returned to his tasks, trying to piece together as best he could where it all had left off. He endured the shame of everyone knowing that he had done something bad enough to merit an unprecedented punishment, though only Thranduil ever knew the reason. And he did not smile again for a very, very long time.

Thranduil looked out the window at the scenery passing by, considering. _Asperger's_. And a possibility that through no fault of his own, Thanadir had been left vulnerable to certain cruelties perpetrated by his own mind; the same mind that was in all other ways so extraordinary. What was it, he had said? _A blight on an otherwise perfect beauty._ He squeezed his eyes shut. He had been wrong. This was Thanadir, in his completeness, and he had not understood. Earlene dozed against the seneschal's shoulder, held in his arms so that she could not fall over. From time to time, he would lean his head to gently rest against hers.

When they arrived back at the cottage, Earlene sat on the sofa for a moment, holding Allanah, staring absentmindedly at Thranduil. One moment, he was ordinary, and the next moment, he wore Anguriel. Blinking her eyes, she frowned as she muddled her thoughts, suddenly understanding. Even in remote Doolin he had taken no chances, but he had hidden that from the mortals. And now their holiday was over.


	48. Chapter 48

Reminder to Readers: this story's "home" is on An Archive of Our Own, under the same title and username. It is always updated there first...it is updated here when I get a spare minute! If you don't wish to wait, please follow our tale on the other site! :-)

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"Thranduil!" Earlene said with more than a hint of positivity, "the papers have come, via Niamh. It's all over with, all sorted. We are officially Allanah's parents." She glanced over the documents. Lots of Blah Blah Blah, as she jokingly called the verbal currency of her profession, but this time the blather contained an official court seal. These would of course be filed away... _someplace besides this cottage_ , she reasoned. Until things changed, this was no longer assuredly a secure location. Who knew what paperwork Von Rapetched would decide might titillate him, on any future visit to her home. After the bra, probably anything was fair game.

The King walked over to view the documents, just out of curiosity. Official papers were hardly a new sight to his eyes, but what modern human ones would look like interested him. Leaning down, he kissed her, his hand resting gently on her belly. "One down, two to go", he chuckled, smiling at her and sitting.

Earlene brushed aside a strand of his hair. "Now that it is altogether too late, I think there are some things we should discuss about Allanah. And maybe about our own children as well." Her eyes met his with earnestness. "I had planned, intended, that Allanah would call us mother and father. But that from the earliest time she is old enough to understand, that she would also know that we are not her biological parents. With the choice being left to her to say 'Aunt and Uncle' if that is what she wishes. I have seen friends who suffered from being deceived about having been adopted, and I do not want that for her. But as in all of this, your opinions matter rather more than my own," she said with humor.

He leaned forward to kiss her. "As always, I appreciate the honor you show me, Earlene. But in matters of raising our children, I will be very reluctant to fall back on my title of King to make decisions for our family. You have just as much of a right to voice opinions. Family life among ordinary elves is not a patriarchal one, as it seems to have been in many human traditions. And in this, I agree with you. It would be usual, among elves, for us to be called Adar and Naneth, or shortened forms of those words. And yet in the world outside, I believe Mam and Da are what is common. What will we teach Allanah?"

Earlene frowned. "I have no objection to the Sindarin words," she said. "In fact, I prefer them. This is our family, and even outside of Lasg'len, it would be a rare person indeed that would catch on. 'Nana' is a common word for 'grandmother' in many cultures, though 'Adar,' not so much. And yet I am willing to manage it if you are. And surely the children themselves might have something they choose, regardless of what we think?"

"True enough," he laughed.

"And discipline? I will not willingly stand for any kind of physical punishment. And I do not believe you would want this either," she said softly. While she did not wish to raise this sensitive subject, it needed agreement long before it was necessary to use it.

"Legolas was never struck, never beaten," said Thranduil. "We were always able to reason with him, to teach. When punishment was called for, it was in the form of being sent to his rooms or a loss of privileges. Alassëa and I shared equally in disciplining him, and Thanadir was granted this right as well, if he saw the need. As we invited him to take on a significant share of our son's care and parenting, we trusted him to have authority as well. Thanadir was and is stern but gentle. Would this meet with your approval?"

"It is how I was raised. Yes. Though," she grimaced, "I am afraid I did see my father resort to harsher measures with Aidan. He was not so pliant as I was. I believe he was spanked a time or two, but I recall it having happened after an extreme escalation of other measures having utterly failed. But that need not enter this discussion." She paused. There was one more thing on her mind, but she truly did not wish to voice it. And yet this was Thranduil, from whom nothing was hidden. Looking up into his eyes, her lips made a crooked smile.

Thranduil sighed. "Should any elven child lose his or her parents, the rest of the community would care for and raise that one with love. But in the case of Allanah...this is difficult," he said. "Perhaps a conversation is in order, with Lorna and Ratiri. I am certain they might be thinking along similar lines. Lately, that has become somewhat unavoidable."

Neither of them wished to consider the things that might happen, with a monster loose in the world. And yet they had to. His arms came around his wife, and they held each other in silence, finding comfort.

Avathar was displeased, but that was nothing new, of late.

His pharmaceutical company had contracted an unfortunately virulent computer virus, once which seemed to be infecting not just his server, but that of his main rival. He found hackers tedious, and usually hunted them down, but this seemed to be a highly coordinated effort that he had little motivation to combat at the moment. That was why he had underlings.

Healing from the wound Earlene had dealt him had taken several days, and his mood had only grown ever blacker. The woman would pay with everything she held dear before he was through with her; it was only a pity there were so few left on this shore that she cared about.

John Ohlert was first and foremost among them, and this was one of the things Avathar found unpleasant. The man was slightly brighter than the rest of the sheep, and thus more entertaining, but he was as as father to Earlene. There was no primer a target.

He often worked late, long after all others had gone home for the evening, and Avathar now lurked in his office, leaning against the wall in the shadows, while the lights of New York cast glowing lines where they passed through the slats of the blinds. He had in his hand a wicked knife, and an ancient one, forged by himself from the chain that once bound him to his pit. There was little it would not rend, and flesh and bone were not among them.

Sure enough, John came bustling into his office, rubbing at a crick in his shoulder. He set his briefcase on his desk before turning on the lamp, and froze.

While there were occasionally others who worked this late, John rarely saw them, and no clients were ever allowed in after hours. To find this man, this deeply unsettling man...every single instinct he possessed told him to flee. Something about Von Ratched had always struck him as _wrong_ ; it wasn't just his height or his bearing, which was far too precise for a corporate CEO (or scientist, or doctor, which he apparently was as well), or even those ungodly eyes. There was just _something_ , and it all but screamed across his nerves now.

Von Ratched smiled, though there was little humor in it. "You've always been more observant than the others, John," he said. "So few suspect me, even by a fraction, and yet you...you cannot know me for what I am, but you very much suspect what I am not. Frail-minded though your kind is, I must respect that."

Heart lurching, sweat gathering at his palms, John gave in to the urge to back away. He didn't know what lunacy the man was spouting, and yet some deep, primal part of him, some part not constrained by nonsensical chains of generally accepted plausibility, told him that what he was facing was not a man. It was madness, rank paranoia, and yet that didn't stop him believing it was true. "You shouldn't be here, Mister von Ratched," he said, his voice unsteady. "It's late. Perhaps you could come by again tomorrow."

Von Ratched shook his head, standing straight. John wasn't a short man, but Von Ratched towered over him, as he did over most people. "I wish I need not do this, John," he said, and sounded like he actually meant it, "but you are dearer to Earlene than anyone left in this land. At least I will grant you a clean death."

And clean it was; he snapped the man's neck with such speed that there was no room even for pain. _Oh Earlene, if only you had not driven me to this_. Lying the body on the floor, he set to work, the cream carpeting soon stained red. He would not mail her any of this man's body parts, though he had seen such things in fiction - that would be tasteless. John's pocket watch, however, the golden case sticky with blood... _that_ she would receive. That and her brassiere, but it would take him longer to do as he wished with it. It had an entirely different use, and would serve an entirely different purpose.

These people...he had ignored them for thousands of years, slumbering within distant mountains. They had fought endless, tedious wars over religion, been driven by greed, died in droves of sicknesses that anyone with any sense could manage - all in all, quite boring. Not until what they came to call the Industrial Revolution did they pique his interest, because not until then did they begin to climb out of the morass of their own ignorance. And to have come so far, in so very short a time...it was unprecedented. And he wanted in on it, because there was so much opportunity for power, and few of them even knew it.

And yet even then they could provide only so much interest. Even the brightest among them were limited and dull by his standards; their breakthroughs could be fascinating, but only for a time. They lived and died in the space of a breath, and none could even hope to approach being a worthy adversary for him. He had thought himself the last remnant of the First Age for millennia, and then…

Then he'd found Thranduil. Thranduil and his seneschal, and Earlene, and lovely little Lorna, who he should have stolen when he had a chance. He could not have held her long - her mind might be weak, but she had a will as strong as the bones of Ennor - but he wished he had not released her to Thranduil so soon.

And Earlene...he very much wanted to know what protected her, and how. It was not something innate, because she was mortal; it simply could not be. He would find a way around it, and he would make her pay. He had been gentle with little Lorna; she had enjoyed herself, he had been careful not to harm her children, and he had not burdened her with the memory of their time together, knowing that it would prove a horror to her no matter how pleasant the experience itself had been. He had seen an expression in her mind: a precious cinnamon roll. In a sense, it fit; she was precious, and yet he wanted to eat her in a way rather more enjoyable than cannibalism. He needed to get her out of his system, this little stuffed animal with razor-sharp teeth he had no doubt would rip out his throat were he near enough. Once she _was_ out of his system, he would give her the opportunity to avenge herself, because he suspected she might be more creative than one might think.

With Earlene, it would _hurt_ ; he would make her long for death before he was through with her, and kill the spawn residing in her womb, and then he would return her to Thranduil, as broken as he could make her. She too had a will of iron, and oh, he would enjoy shattering it. Normally he disliked forcing a partner; tears irritated him, but in this case he would make an exception. She was strong for a mortal, but she would beg for mercy until her voice gave out before he gave it to her.

He strongly suspected that whatever protected her was tied to Thranduil, and that if he were to separate the two, it would fail. He could not directly touch her to do so, but that need not stop him. When it came to what he wanted, nothing ever had.

The air had become much colder now during the days, but Earlene still fought on to remain as fit as possible. There were times she still tried to run around, but the logistics of supporting her belly made matters very difficult. She had shown Thanadir, with no small amount of embarrassment, photos of pregnancy support belts she'd found on the Internet. He was very kind, and did not tease her at all. After taking a series of measurements, he came to her two days later with something similar in concept and yet far better, as with all things to which he set his mind. Rather than a garment with garish elastic bands that looked like something out of a circus freak show, he had designed something that was governed entirely by sturdy laces. It was reminiscent of a corset, but with two panels that could be infinitely adjusted depending on how tightly the heavy yet comfortable fabric was snugged. When worn, it allowed her upper body to take up far more of the weight of the babies. And while it did not allow her to run as she used to, it did allow her to walk briskly with relative comfort. This in turn allowed her to stretch out and exercise especially lower back muscles that had become tense and tired from the strain of the awful posture she'd begun to adopt.

Though ambitious, it was very late morning when she decided that she wished to go to town. It would be good to purchase some chickens to roast, for variety. Plus there was another reason, long overdue. Thanadir walked at her side, as in spite of the chill weather her breathing became heavier and her face beaded with perspiration at the effort of her very rapid walking. "Hiril vuin, I think you should walk slower," he said as kindly as possible. Her pace faltered, and she crumbled into a much slower walk. The truth was, she'd been forcing herself out of a sense of pride to keep on, though the speed had become harder to maintain with every passing yard.

"Thank you for being a voice of reason, meldir," she said once her breathing had slowed. "This is hard for me. I miss running, Thanadir. I miss being able to move quickly. I feel much of the time as though I am living in something that is not even my own body." Looking up at the sky, she tried to summon some self-discipline. "I am sorry. I should not be complaining to you. This is what I said I wanted, and this is part of what must happen. I just need to stop thinking so selfishly."

Thanadir did not answer or comment, but offered his arm to her instead, which she gratefully took. As they neared town, she turned to him. "I should have warned you, but I want to visit Aurinia, from the Ladies' Quilting Club. It is long overdue for me to do this; I hope you do not mind. We will not stay too long. Or at least, that is my intention."

Thanadir frowned. "You are good friends with her?" He knew that Earlene had met the woman at least once, perhaps they had connected by the computer, without his knowledge?

"No, not at all. It is just that after what happened to her son, it is beyond time for me to speak with her."

The elf said nothing, but nodded. Earlene saw the look of confusion pass over his features. "You do not understand why I would visit her, meldir? You can ask me things that do not make sense to you, Thanadir. I feel like the least I can do is try to explain humans to you, when you have done so much for me."

He glanced at her and nodded, and she saw what she was certain was fear, though it passed quickly. As she studied his face, he seemed to be waging an internal struggle, but then arrived at a decision. "It is not easy for me to admit when I do not know things, Earlene. I feel afraid. But I trust you. I...do not want others to know this, about me."

"I would never betray your trust, Thanadir. Next to Thranduil I care about you more than anyone else. I think you must know that. And if you did not; well, you do now." And yet even as she was speaking the words, her mind lurched into motion, because something here was not right at all. Thanadir, the most able and exquisitely intelligent person she had ever known, afraid of something so simple? "I am going to see Aurinia because when her son went to prison, it had a connection to me. It was not my fault, and not really anything about me, but her son did kill my brother. Most people would feel very responsible, if someone connected to them did something very bad. Like, imagine that somehow Rîniel went to town and killed a person. I know that would never happen; this is just for the purpose of illustration. Thranduil would feel terrible, he would feel responsible, because he is her King. Just in the same way, Aurinia probably feels responsible that her son did this thing. And because of that, it would likely mean a great deal to her to hear from me that I do not hold her in any way responsible, and that I do not have bad feelings toward her in any way. Honestly I do not even have bad feelings against Sean in any way, but that is on account of how very bad my relationship with my brother was. It should have mattered to me, that he died, but it does not. That part is not normal."

Thanadir considered her words, his brow furrowed. "So because of all you have said, you are going to offer her comfort even though she is not someone close to you?"

Earlene nodded, alarm bells going off again. "Yes. Although I am not a religious person, there is a sentiment that many humans practice because it makes sense to us. 'Do for others as you would like others to do for you.' If I were in Aurinia's position, I would very much want to be comforted, because as a mother whose son did something awful, she must be suffering a great deal, emotionally. So that is my reason for doing this, even though it has taken me an inexcusably long time to manage it."

Thanadir brightened. "Now I have something I can understand. It is only that...I would not feel a need to do this for someone to whom I am not close. I did not know that others would."

What Earlene could not have known, as she did her best to elucidate these emotions, is that Thanadir had looked in on her thoughts, hoping to gain better insight. She was simply so used to him not choosing this on account of whatever manner in which it was difficult for him, that it never occurred to her to muddle her mind around him. Which was why he found himself seeing a huge 'data sorting' of everything Earlene had ever observed about him, and a word that kept recurring. _Asperger's_ , and whether or not this was something that applied to him. Earlene sifted and considered whether elves could have the same cognitive differences as humans, but to her this topic had a different interest. _Had I the choice, would I sacrifice some of my emotional intelligence to be like Thanadir? To be the smartest, cleverest, most creative? To master what is difficult with such relative ease, and to have myriad advantages at the cost of a deficit that has likely caused him a great deal of pain?_ Because if she accepted this framework about him, it explained beyond question the difficulties he'd had. With her, and apparently with others in the past. Her heart bled for him, at the confusion and suffering he had to have endured because he lacked this one particular skill set. _Whether this describes him or not, it would not matter to me either way,_ she reflected. _If anything, I would love him all the more. He is precious, unique, more than I can ever hope to be, and I am privileged to be his friend. Perhaps if anything I can review that condition, and find ways to help him more, help his happiness._

They walked on in silence. Thanadir had been forced to leave off his connection with her, which took such intense concentration to maintain that he could never manage it for long. But now he felt troubled. _Was_ there truly something the matter with him? Something that _explained_ him? Whatever this was, Earlene seemed to think that it was both the greatest asset and a serious liability, all at the same time. A tremendous difference from what was ordinary. _What did that mean?_ For now, he did not wish to discuss this. But he now had some words. _Asperger's. Emotional intelligence_. And he had a computer.

They reached a house, and Earlene knocked. Aurinia answered the door, with an expression that Thanadir recognized as sadness. And surprise. She invited them in, and closed the door.

Lorna and Ratiri had been planning.

They knew Von Ratched was still out there, and that there was every chance they'd have to move back to the Halls for God knew how long. It was with this in mind that they went on something of a shopping spree, both online and off.

The cottage was no longer secure, but they needed a better way of charging their electronics than the car battery, which wouldn't last forever anyway. The answer was solar panels and a metric arseload of wire.

They also brought all the books they could grab, since Lorna had no interest in trying to wade through Sindarin when she just wanted downtime. Between that and all the yarn Lorna could get her hands on, as well as Gran's ancient book of knitting patterns, she could at least occupy herself once she turned into a land whale.

She was already well on her way; she could still see her feet, but only just, and she'd barely entered her second trimester. It was only a matter of time before she started waddling, God help her. Ratiri had insisted on bringing in weights of various sizes, so she would still be able to get at least some exercise when she couldn't move much.

They also knew Thanadir's birthday (for so Lorna could only think of it) was coming up, so she arranged with Mairead in an advance for a cake, and she and Ratiri went a little nuts with gift-buying, but it wasn't without ulterior motive: if they were going to be stuck, they could keep all five of them busy. _Star Trek_ books (dozens); a beautiful chess set; Jenga (which Ratiri was certain he'd excel at), and an absolutely beautiful Fender acoustic guitar. Lorna could teach him to play even once she couldn't do much else, and would adore it if he'd try to teach her the violin in turn. Earlene had connived with Lorna, sending her own purchases to Baile so that the deliveries would not be seen at the cottage. A Complete Works of Shakespeare, DVDs of some of the best film versions made, and an extensive collection of art supplies that included pastels, pencils, charcoals, watercolors, and all the things necessary to use them. Different sized pads of art paper were sent as well.

When they finally had everything gift-wrapped and all their other things in order, Lorna flopped on the bed. If she was this miserable now, where was she going to be in six months? One thing was for certain: she was never, ever doing this again. Two would have to be enough. Normally she was a stomach-sleeper, but that wasn't an option anymore, so she'd spent her nights restless until it occurred to her to ask Thranduil for some kind of elven sleep aide. It worked, but she still woke with a sore back. Fortunately, Ratiri's talented hands were not limited to sexy uses, and he seemed quite happy to give her backrubs on demand. There were times Lorna wondered just what she had done to deserve this man.

"Have you got any idea how much I love you, allanah?" she asked. It had occurred to her some months ago that she might not say that as often as she should, so, in the interest of boosting her ability to actually communicate, she said it often now. She knew she could be weird and hard to read, and she didn't want him doubting for a moment how much she loved and appreciated him.

"I do," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I love you, too. Now let's go get dinner."

Lorna picked up the birthday cake from Mairead, promising photos in return (which meant they were going to have to knock together a backdrop that didn't look like, well, elves lived there). This one was shaped and colored like a leather-bound book, because Mairead had learned a new icing technique from Siobhan and wanted to try it out. It was a damn big cake, too big for even the five of them to eat at one go, so it would be the gift that kept on giving.

All their assorted presents were good to go, wrapped with various levels of expertness (or lack thereof). Lorna had plenty of practice, but Ratiri did not, and even his doctor's precision didn't always make for the best results. He made up for it by covering half of the available surfaces with dozens of stick-on bows - Lorna had had a huge bag left over from last Christmas. It had occurred to her that Thranduil might well be secretly jealous Thanadir was getting such a haul, so she'd give him a hug. He liked them, and knew they were rare currency from her unless your name was Ratiri.

Getting everything set up in Earlene and Thranduil's cottage didn't take long. Ratiri distracted Thanadir by directly greeting him, which gave Lorna and Earlene a chance to disappear into the pantry so that they could look at the cake, which had jokingly been called 'The Precious' in more than one email exchange. For this evening, one of the elleth was watching Allanah in their quarters in the Halls, and with any luck her daughter would sleep the entire time. Thranduil had played with her an extra long time today and hopefully had worn her out.

"I have a small tube of white buttercream ready to go. If you want, I could write his name on the cake in Tengwar. It's only four letters, and would fit easily. What do you think? Do it, or leave it be? It really is perfect, even as is," Earlene admired. Mairead's cakes were such that one hesitated to interfere, even in small ways.

"I think he'd be delighted if you did put his name on it, but have you got the right...tip, or whatever?" Lorna did have some hazy knowledge of how to frost a cake, learned mainly from Mairead, who had huge numbers of metal tips that went on plastic bags full of frosting. "Christ, if you can actually stand her long enough, one day the pair'v you ought to swap recipes." If the two of them were to ever bake together, the sheer tastiness that would result might well break the universe.

"Yes. This piping tip that is round but not too wide will let me imitate calligraphy just slightly. And I have a second smaller tip to make the vowel sounds over the top. The tehta, if you've gotten that far. Believe me, I am of a 'less is more' way of thinking. The hardest part about Tengwar is to write it with a smooth hand. I try too hard and my writing still looks childish, in my opinion. But as long as it's good enough for Thanadir not to be completely appalled…"

Lorna burst out laughing. True to her expectations, she had a skeletal understanding of how to speak the language about as well as a five-year-old, but she couldn't write it worth shit. _Ratiri_ could, which was something of a surprise, given doctors were usually notorious for terrible handwriting. "I think you're better at it than you give yourself credit for," she said. If she'd noticed one thing about Earlene, it was that she was something of a perfectionist - not surprising, given she was a lawyer, but sometimes she was too hard on herself. Not that Lorna would ever say so in so many words; it wasn't the kind of thing anyone actually liked hearing. "He'll love it. And all this stuff."

"I hope so. He does so much for me. In some ways he is the unsung hero of my life. I've never doubted for a moment that Thranduil would do anything and everything for me but...he can't. I can't capitalize on his time that way. It's like Thanadir has in part made a gift of himself to make up for all the little things...like being willing to be a spare pair of hands. Something. It's hard for me to put into words sometimes. But that anyone would be willing to do so much for someone else, just because...even I know you don't find many of those. And it's not easy to thank him. How do you thank a genius that can do almost everything better than you can? But at least I want to try. Thank god for one thing. He loves sweets, and he shows no signs yet of making better desserts than I do. And definitely not better than Mairead," she snorted.

"I still think he's a cinnamon roll," Lorna said. "Yes, I know he's a badass warrior, but he also makes little ribbon roses, and I thought he was going to cry when he saw the sewing machine. He's a cinnamon roll, just one that could probably decapitate a person with a dinner plate at forty paces and break a grown man in half. None of that means he isn't sweet and too pure for this world."

Earlene chuckled. "Now I'm going to end up baking cinnamon rolls. But I agree there is only one Thanadir, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a pedestal for him. So if you want him in the baked goods case, I won't argue."

"Thranduil thinks me thinking that is a bit ridiculous, but I don't think he's seen some'v the sides you and I have. I mean, him with that sewing machine...it was the most precious bloody thing I'd ever seen. And the roses...I'm still not sure what to do with the leftovers," Lorna laughed.

"Eh, hang onto them. They're too amazing as party decorations, and it's Ireland. There's always another party," she said, smiling at the frosted result. "There. And it even doesn't desecrate the cake, and it's legible. As my gran would have said, 'Always quite while you're ahead.' " Earlene admired her little icing creation. "I can see Thranduil thinking that. He has known him rather a long time, to the point where sometimes I think my own understanding of him will always pale. And yet we are all different, and sometimes one person sees what another doesn't."

"Eighteen thousand years," Lorna said, shaking her head. "Can't even fathom it, so I don't try. Oof," she grimaced, rubbing the small of her back. "Jesus, if it's this bad now, I don't want to think about what it'll be like in another three months. Why'd it have to be _twins?_ And according to Ratiri, that's my fault, not his, since I'm the one who released two eggs in one month. That man is so lucky he gives such good backrubs. Sometimes he's got all the tact'v a stoat, but I'm not one to talk there."

"Who do I get to blame?" wondered Earlene rhetorically. "Cellular something or other, I guess. Oh well, whatever the reasons, we're in the same boat," she smiled. "And I too have felt a little like a mess. If my center of gravity gets put off any more I'll be walking on all fours bent over backward just to try and balance out. There are times I wish the kids would grow sideways, and not out front. Abdominal organs are overrated."

"I'm sure as hell starting to hate my bladder," Lorna groused. "Every five minutes, I'm not even kidding. I'd looked up pictures of little women pregnant with twins online, and I wish I hadn't. 'Land whale' is about appropriate. I'm going to get a skateboard or something to sit on, and Ratiri can pull me along behind him with a string. Maybe glue two together, so I'll actually fit." Speaking of Ratiri, where the hell was he? He needed to get his arse in here before Thanadir did.

"Great. Now I'll not want to know. Except I will. Gee thanks, Lorna," Earlene laughed good-naturedly. " 'Land whale', I like that...c'mon, let's join the blokes before they come find the cake. The rest of the food's ready or about to be."

"If it makes you feel any better, you've got a solid nine inches on me," Lorna said, following her. "That's a lot more room for two sprogs to grow. Especially if they wind up giant-sized thanks to how tall their das are." She couldn't actually say _this_ out loud, but at least sexing up Ratiri had got a lot less uncomfortable. Her lady bits must be stretching a bit, but whatever the reason, her hormones were thankful.

Earlene felt it wise to not point out that while she did indeed have that height, she was pretty sure she was carrying around proportionately heavier water balloons. And speaking of water balloons...Earlene noted with amusement that Lorna was developing a bust. That it would not be close to what she herself had to put up with seemed likely, but there were most definitely curves now, and she was only what, four months along? Grins were suppressed. They'd know for sure about weights when they were all born...though, it would be interesting to know Lorna's weight gain as a ratio to her own... _nope,_ thought Earlene. _Not going there. Some things are too dangerous for science._ Handing Lorna a mug of tea, they joined the others. She mentally checked off that she'd not forgotten any of the food. It had been deliberate, that she had cooked enough for nine people when there were five of them. This was Thanadir's meal, and he was going to eat himself into a coma if that was what he wished to do. Thranduil caught her eye from across the room with something between a smirk and that insufferable look of vague chastisement. _Yes, I am spoiling your seneschal, and tonight, I'll not hear a thing about it. Because surely you would not be so cruel as to command your much-too-pregnant wife to the contrary,_ she smirked back. That he closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly told her that she was being indulged just as she expected. _Thank you,_ she said with sincerity.

Ratiri came in just behind them, looking far more serene than Lorna, who still couldn't lie to save her damn life and had a difficult time keeping this kind of secret. She couldn't wait to see Thanadir's face, because she knew what he looked like when he truly appreciated something, and it was like watching the sun rise. He _was_ a cinnamon roll, albeit one who could potentially have fangs and gnaw your ankles off like a piranha. Great, there was a mental image she was never going to banish. _Sorry, Thranduil._

The King shook his head, smiling, not looking at her lest he fail to maintain his imperturbable outward appearance.

"It's almost time for eating," Earlene said, giving what everyone by now jokingly called 'The Five Minute Warning,' though never in her hearing. Ratiri once had made the mistake of not being in his chair before an oven timer went off for dinner, and the ensuing crash against him as she launched across the room caused him to privately decide 'Never again.' He and Lorna found seats, and he helped her adjust her chair so she could sit comfortably and still be able to reach the table. What she'd be like by the end of this trimester...he hadn't said anything yet, but she might well wind up eating off a tray balanced on her stomach. It might not come to that, though, so best not say anything yet.

Salads of her delicate pickled baby beets, capers, minced cabbage and carefully shredded winter greens with pan-roasted radicchio in a persimmon-yogurt dressing were already in front of them, with Earlene fussing at them to go ahead and start eating. A platter of roasted butternut squash cubes with lentils, diced carmelized onions, pancetta and parmesan cheese was laid down for everyone to serve themselves, and in front of Thanadir she placed an immense prime rib roast that had been cooked to medium rare perfection and sliced. And then the oven timer went off. Earlene returned with the last item; a tray full of individual Yorkshire puddings that had reached a towering height; she rapidly placed one on each of their plates. Except for Thanadir, who got two. Earlene immediately served him three slabs of the beef and a hefty amount of the squash, whereupon Thranduil gestured for her to be seated so he could take over serving the rest of the meat. A generous bowl of her handmade creamed horseradish sauce lay at the ready. Thanadir had been told that he was to indulge himself eating right away; Earlene would not stand for perfect Yorkshire puddings falling flat out of pointless politeness. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Thanadir appeared to be about to cry with happiness at the food. _Just wait, meldir. This is nothing._ She was looking forward to this so much…

Thranduil looked on with interest. Both Lorna and Earlene, and Ratiri too to some extent were excited more than anything for the pleasure of watching Thanadir enjoy himself. He thought back to his early prejudices. How wrong he'd been, about humans. They were as generous and desirous of making others happy as his own people...when they were not starving and barely able to live. It was that last part, that he had failed to take into account, and that mattered rather a lot.

 _Cinnamon roll_ , Lorna thought, watching Thanadir. He enjoyed things with a simplicity she didn't often see outside of children; when he focused on something, he _focused_ on it, and there was just something adorable about it. She could only imagine how delighted he'd be by his presents; he was so...so _unaffected_. What you saw with Thanadir was what you got; when he was pleased, there was no artifice to it.

She applied herself to her own food, wishing she had the patience to cook like this. Part of why her gran had got nowhere with her was simply because she disliked cooking; it didn't hold her attention. Mairead had always taken care of it when they'd lived together, and when she'd lived alone she could get by on her simple meals. Thank God Ratiri enjoyed cooking, or their kids would be in trouble.

Earlene took only small amounts of everything, indulging the most on the meat and the pudding, because Yorkshire pudding was another form of carbohydrate ecstasy. She hoped their little dinner would drag on long enough to make more room for Mairead's cake, because if she had to be carried out of here begging her husband for relief, it was going to fit. One by one the others finished while Thanadir happily continued eating. This was the fun part, though the mortals had all agreed amongst themselves that taking bets on when he would stop eating would be tactless. To the general astonishment, he stopped after only seconds of the food. Earlene narrowed her eyes at Thranduil with a look of general suspicion.

Lorna looked at Ratiri, who looked back, and both wondered if Thanadir was somehow ill. To Ratiri's knowledge, Elves didn't really _get_ ill, but a lot of the things he'd thought he knew about Elves had turned out to be wrong, so what the hell did he know?

"You feeling all right there, Thanadir?" Lorna asked.

 _I did not tell him to stop eating, Earlene. I promise you._

Thranduil would not try to deceive her about this. So for reasons of his own, he was done eating; she shrugged. By prearranged signal, Lorna nudged Ratiri to go get the gifts. Earlene rose and spoke to the seneschal. "We have something for you, meldir. Would you come sit on the sofa now?" _Dammit Lorna,_ Earlene thought, now unable to stop thinking 'cinnamon roll' at the sight of his curious and slightly eager expression.

Lorna followed them into the lounge, taking up residence on the arm of an armchair - she'd just sit on Ratiri when he got in. It took three trips for him to bring it all, arranging it around Thanadir, somehow managing not to grin at the elf's expression. It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning. A very ancient, very lethal kid, but still.

"Go ahead, Thanadir," Earlene said kindly, sitting next to him in case he felt self-conscious. "Choose one and open it."

Eyes shining with happiness, Thanadir did just that. One after the other, the gifts were revealed, while Thranduil stood back and smiled.

Lorna snapped away with her mobile. "We all had to think a bit," she said, "and coordinate. I'll teach you how to play Jenga, and you and Thranduil can play chess - you're the only one'v us he _can_ play, without it being totally one-sided."

"The _Star Trek_ books are good, too," Ratiri added. "Well, all the ones I got you are. I've read most of them, regardless of quality."

"Nerd," Lorna said affectionately. "And I'll teach you guitar, if you'd like, while I've still got enough'v a lap to do it.

"Thank you for these wonderful gifts," Thanadir said quietly, appearing to not quite be able to believe that all these things were for him. The truth was, in his entire life gifts had been rare. And this many?

"I too have something for you, Thanadir," said the King. Everyone looked at him in surprise, because he'd been invited to participate in their brainstorming and politely declined, saying that he was sure they would do very well. He'd not said a word about this. He held a wooden box in his hand, not overly large, and placed it in front of the elf on the low table. Thanadir looked at it and then looked up, completely puzzled. Thranduil sat next to him and explained. "You have served me for countless years, Thanadir, and your own family is no longer on these shores. When we moved into the human world, we agreed to say that you are my brother. I felt it was time that this was acknowledged in a different way." Thranduil lifted the lid on the box and picked up the mithril brooch in his fingers; the small diamonds inlaid into it shone in the low light. "I think you know, what this is?" he asked.

Thanadir's eyes were wider than saucers and he found himself unusually at a loss for what to say. He nodded, though he did not know how he could possibly accept what he now saw was being done. And yet this was his King; neither could he refuse. Thranduil smiled, having anticipated exactly this result. "This is the symbol of the royal household," he explained to the rest of them. "The birch tree, in winter. Only those who are of my family may wear it." He pinned the precious item into Thanadir's clothing. "I have called you friend, and seneschal. Now I call you brother, as well." Thranduil kissed each of Thanadir's cheeks, seeing the moisture filling his eyes.

"Thank you, Thranduil," he somehow managed to choke out. Earlene managed to restrain herself to a stray tear or two. If it were her, she'd be sobbing, of that much she was certain. "Gwador," said Earlene, leaning over to kiss his cheek as well. She looked over to Lorna in desperation. They did not need telepathy to understand ' _Get the fucking cake before everyone starts crying_ ,' fortunately.

Out the cake came, displayed on the table with a candle not on it, for fear of marring the frosting, but at one end. Mairead really had outdone herself this time, and Earlene's lettering certainly looked perfect to Lorna's eye. She had not expected Thranduil's gift to Thanadir, and it was damn near enough to make _her_ well up. And now it wasn't a lie, saying they were brothers, so Thanadir wouldn't have to dig himself into a hole trying to tell something closer to the truth. (Hey, she was a pragmatist. Sue her.)

She moved back away from the table to let the others approach, but snagged Thranduil before he could get there, hugging him. _I know he got way more presents than you did for yours, so have a hug. I don't give them to just anyone._

A low rumbling chuckle came from him as he returned her affection. _Seeing him this happy IS a present. I count it all to be very fair,_ he smiled.

Earlene tried to bring Thanadir to the cake, except, she could not get up without the use of both arms, so it turned out that he had to help her, laughing. "Well that was not graceful, but, now you must have one last thing," she said with a smile as she steered him to the table.

Lorna lit the candle while Ratiri dimmed the lights a touch - which meant he shut off the one over the sink. "Mairead made this," she said. "There's enough we can save some for later, so you can have it for a few days. Earlene did the writing on it, though."

Earlene had a sudden moment of panic. _Please let the letters be right, even though I am sure they are…_

 _They are, meluieg. You did very well._ Thranduil came behind her, holding her snugly which also served to take some of the weight off of her back.

 _I love it when you do that. Looooooooove it. Thank you. And thank you for what you did for Thanadir. That was the most loving gesture...to see him so happy like this…_ she turned her head to lean against his strong arm, nuzzling him.

Thanadir looked astonished. "The cake is...a book? It looks so real," he said. "It can all be eaten?"

 _He has never seen fondant,_ she thought. _This is….adorable._

"It can," Lorna said, while thinking, _yep, cinnamon roll_. "Mairead's a bit'v a wizard with cake designs - not literally," she added, not wanting any confusion. "But she might as well be. This is a special type'v icing you've not seen yet. Is there an equivalent of 'Happy Birthday' in Sindarin?"

"Pretty sure we have to rely on English," Earlene quipped, beginning the song to save the bother of having it degenerate into a language discussion. The cake was pronounced (predictably) delicious, and when everyone but the ellyn were obviously sorry about how much they had eaten, everyone took a present to carry for Thanadir back to the Halls. Earlene had invested in a DVD projector that could run for long hours off Lorna's battery system, and they'd begun working out how to convert Ratiri's room into more or less a movie theater (having hijacked a white sheet for a screen, much to the initial chagrin of the cleaning elleth). It was slowly being improved, and would give a place where Thanadir could eventually see some of his Shakespeare movies. Though at the moment, Earlene wondered why exactly she thought the Complete Works had been a good idea, when it weighed close to as much as another baby. She hugged it to her breast and sighed, determined to do her share with the gifts.

Ratiri kept an eye on Lorna, who gamely trudged along, carrying the only thing he'd let her carry - the Jenga and chess set. He knew she wouldn't try to tap out when it came to walking, not when Earlene was so much worse off and handling it just fine. Stubborn woman. He himself carried the guitar - she'd tried to take it, and he'd put his foot down, so she at least wanted to be where she could see what was happening to it.

"Slow down, you lot," she said. "I'm short and I've got two cantaloupes in my gut. I can't go this fast." Why were all her friends so much taller than her? Why?

"Unless you strongly object, I would like to carry you, Lorna," said Thranduil. He could see perfectly well that this was a struggle for her though she was trying not to let on.

"I feel like such a useless lump," she sighed. "Earlene doesn't need to be carried, and she's further along than I am. If you wouldn't mind giving me an airlift, I wouldn't object to having one."

"I know you hate hearing this, Lorna, but you're tiny," Ratiri said. He wished, so much, that he could be the one to carry her, but at that distance, it just wasn't going to happen. He was fit, but he was still human; Lorna still didn't weigh much yet, but carrying her any distance would be impossible right now. "You're going to struggle more."

"I know," she grumbled. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Thranduil wisely declined to mention that his wife's significant physical fitness was also a factor; he would praise Earlene again for that later, in private, when talking about it would be less likely to precipitate violence. He scooped her into his arms in a way that allowed her to 'sit' against him. And to be fair, she was walking with Thanadir, her arm around his midsection. What only he and Thanadir knew was how tightly Earlene was gripping him to try to take some of the weight off of herself. She had been cooking all day and her legs and back were in increasing discomfort though she did not let on.

"Pregnancy sucks," Lorna sighed, and only Thranduil knew just how happy she was to be off her feet. "Never doing this again. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't twins."

Ratiri kept his mouth shut, for once; he could have told her that at her size, it wouldn't have been terribly fun no matter how many babies she had gestating in her tiny womb in her equally tiny midsection.

"Earlene, I don't know what your secret is, but when we're not all half-dead, I want in on it." Jesus she was pathetic, but it wasn't anywhere near enough to ask to be put down. Thranduil wasn't going to drop her, and so long as he was carrying her, she wouldn't trip and land on her own face.

"It's Thanadir's mind, of course," she quipped from up front. "Which is another way of saying, his sewing skills. He made me something that has helped me a great deal. But at this point in the day, I'm not in much better shape than you are, I'm just being stubborn as hell."

"While I've got the Airlift Special," Lorna groaned. "Which I do appreciate, by the way, don't get me wrong," she added, looking at Thranduil. " _Really_ appreciate, because I was about to land on my damn face, but I wish I didn't need it."

 _I would hardly be a decent person to watch you struggle when I can so easily help. I will spare you the platitudes about how it won't last forever. It does not change that it is difficult. You are doing very well,_ he said simply. _Do not feel you have to somehow compete with Earlene. You are very different people._ Thranduil had never realized how challenging it was, to continually try to be encouraging while not saying the wrong thing. He could see how much more women struggled than most ellith, though even for elves childbearing was not simple. But to be so _tiny_...he sighed. He could not carry her children, but he could carry her. She was deposited on her own bed with a kiss to her cheek, while Thanadir helped Earlene continue to her own rooms.

For her part, she was trying to decide just when the simple walk from the cottage to the King's rooms had become so goddamn difficult. As it was, the focus needed to keep going was ridiculous; the feeling in her back and legs had crossed into outright pain. They had many yards yet to go when she was scooped off her feet, carried now in Thanadir's arms. An involuntary squeak escaped her from being startled as she looked at him in surprise. She wanted so badly to argue, having almost made it; her lips were already parted to speak. His eyebrows arched and he shook his head No. It was so very hard to stop competing, especially against herself. He laid her down on her bed facing away from him, and immediately began massaging the screaming muscles of her back. Her eyes burned with irritation at how useless she felt, even as she knew there was nothing that could be done. Just, _dammit._ And even more _dammit_ was that she was being ill-mannered, which upgraded the situation to needing to take a Fukitol. With a very deep sigh, she forced herself to speak in a tone of voice that held appreciation. "Thank you, meldir."

The next morning, Thanadir took all of their electronic devices to the cottage in the early morning as had been his habit, including Orla's scrambling contraption. Weeks ago he had been shown what to plug in and how, and usually in the thirty to sixty minutes he spent checking that the animals were being minded and that all was well, everything would be fully charged again and updated. Earlene and Lorna had checked that the settings on everyone's email, news, weather, etc. were such that the connections would refresh once there was a WiFi signal; thus when the gizmos returned to the Halls they could all care for necessary communication while working or reading offline. It had proven to be a reasonably elegant solution to potential future realities as well as the decreasing mobility of the pregnant women.

It was before breakfast when Thanadir returned, distributing electronics, for which he was thanked. Thranduil was busy feeding Allanah, and Earlene stretched for some minutes before looking first at her email, a warm shawl wrapped snugly around her. What she read there was news so devastating and so unimaginable that at first there was no thought, no emotion. Only the numb suspension of all belief that she had experienced once before in her life, as the first tower had collapsed in front of her eyes. She stood up without a word and left their rooms, descending through the passages via the shortest route to the dungeon, running into her cell, the only place where it felt like she could begin to process what had happened. "I like it here," she whispered to herself. "I do not know why but it has never bothered me." She turned around to touch the tan colored stone of the cell wall, tracing her fingers down the relatively rough-hewn surface. "What have I done? I didn't do anything wrong but it still had a consequence, and now how will I ever live with myself?" The description in the email she'd received from Tim at her firm...what had happened...she turned to the corner drain and vomited up the water she drank when she had risen, as pain and grief wracked her body. Sinking to the ground, she held onto the stone shelf and buried her face in the same stupid blanket that was always here as a keening cry of loss was forced out of her.

Thranduil froze, in their rooms, as he realized something was terribly amiss. Little Allanah was not right this morning, she was fussy and in discomfort and he was trying to perceive what it was. Even with all his gifts very young children without speech could be troublesome to understand, and he could not right what was wrong until all was clear to him. He could not leave the baby. _Thanadir, please, go to Earlene. In the dungeons. Something is badly amiss._

In the kitchens, the seneschal set down the tray he had been about to carry and dashed away at a run. He knew better than to question or argue, his instructions had been quite clear, but what in Eru's name was she doing _there_? It did not take long to follow the sounds of intense grief. On opening the barred door and entering he was stunned. He had seen Earlene cry before, but not like this. This was the sound of someone whose spirit was tearing, and he rushed to take her into his arms. A flood of information came from Thranduil, who in the rooms above had learned the cause. Thanadir's eyes widened even as his hatred for that depraved monster planted another seed of pure fury into his heart. _Help her, meldir. She can listen to you in some ways better than me. Bring her back when you are able._

Thanadir swallowed. He had done a great deal of reading, when no one could see him, and the reading had shown him many things that had resonated deeply, about himself. When he learned that there were others like him, albeit very rare, it had made him feel less set apart. Others had his strange and inexplicable fears, that no other elves seemed to share. He was not the only one who sometimes struggled to understand or express emotions. It was not that something was the matter with him, it was that he had a difference. An unusualness. Earlene had correctly guessed at these things, and yet she did not think less of him. She envied him, and felt that she had little to offer by comparison. He was loved by her as a brother, and a guide. Admired, respected. She had determined to try to help him without his knowledge, protect him from his own limitations, because she honored him. And now this horrible deed had been done, specifically to hurt her in a way so cruel it staggered the senses. This was warfare, but Earlene had never been in battle. The _raug_ had mirrored her own attack on one who she had seen as being like a father to her, and her usually gentle nature could never have imagined or foreseen this.

He would have to do the best he could. "Earlene," he said softly, rubbing her back. "I am so sorry. So sorry." He rocked her against him as she cried, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing.

"I am responsible for this, Thanadir," she got out brokenly. "And I do not know how I can live with it. John is dead because of what I did. This was done to him because he was someone I cared for. Someone who helped me. Do you understand, that I achieved what I did in my life because of him? Because he insisted I have the chance to prove myself?" She coughed, choking on her own tears and emotion.

"Earlene, listen to me," he said sternly, shaking her very lightly, just enough to startle her. It worked as he hoped it might; she sucked in air sharply, looking at him with wide eyes but she stopped crying in order to do it. "Listen to me," he said again with more kindness. "You know I would not lie to you, Earlene. Not even a little. You are _not_ responsible. Our enemy is very bad, evil. This is how evil behaves, and I know you have never seen such as this. I am so sorry that you did. But you cannot think this way or he wins. It is what he wants, it is why he did it. He is striking a blow, in the way that all his kind do. With malice, and darkness. You will grieve the loss of your friend, and I will be at your side to help you. But I will not allow you to blame yourself. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, reduced by her emotions to simply obeying her trusted teacher. And deep down, she knew he was right. But the pain of it…"I have never had a feeling like this," she whispered. "I have lost loved ones but this is different. This is terrible, Thanadir. I do not know what to do, how to think about this so that it does not tear me apart."

The elf closed his eyes. This was a question he wished he did not know how to answer, but he had not been so fortunate. Few of them had. "Your husband, our King, could respond to this better yet than I, Earlene. He would tell you that this is the price of fighting evil. He has endured this every time an elf in his service lost their lives fighting in countless wars against such creatures. It has hurt him, Earlene. He could choose to feel responsible for all of their deaths, since they fought and perished at his command. But he does not, because he too knows this is not true. And yet it does not lessen the pain of his loss."

That was not a perspective she had considered. "I will have to reflect on your words," she admitted. "It does not make this less horrible, for me. But it helps a little. I am not a warrior, Thanadir. I am in over my head, so to speak, and have never had to confront anything like this. Or rather...that is not strictly true, come to think of it. But last time I confronted this I did not fare well. I came away badly damaged." She held onto him tighter, desperately not wishing to have those same feelings come over her again, and rule her mind as they had once before.

"And yet you have much courage, Earlene. I have seen it, more than once. And this time you are not alone."

Her hold on him was very tight. "How do you not let yourself start becoming afraid?"

He continued to rub her back in slow circles, soothing her. "You already said it once. He is not going to win. And you tell yourself that, and you believe it in your heart, even though your mind knows that this is possibly erroneous. Earlene, courage is not the lack of fear. Courage is being afraid, and doing what you know needs to be done in spite of it."

Her lips parted as she rested her head against his shoulder. Tears still came from her eyes but at least she could now speak. "You have given me much to consider, Hîr vuin."

They sat in silence like this, for many minutes until Thanadir spoke again. "Earlene, why are you here? In a dungeon cell?"

She blushed. "I...think this will sound strange. You probably know by now that I hit Thranduil in a moment of great anger, within days after I pledged my service to him. So unlike you, I was brought here as a punishment. But...it really did not bother me to be here. Or rather, I felt it was the least of my troubles, after what I had done. It is quiet, and I feel like I can think. And I still do not understand myself, but when I am very sad or hurting, something about this place comforts me. To me the worst prison is not made of bars or stone walls, Thanadir. It is here," she tapped her head. "In my mind. That must sound idiotic, but that is my answer."

"No, Earlene. It does not. And you are wrong. I too was imprisoned here, though I barely remember it. I understand what you are saying better than you might think," he smiled weakly.

"You were? I...forgive me, it is not my place to pry."

Thanadir shook his head. "You of all people, I do not mind telling. But I do not want the others to know. It was long ago, and because I spoke words to Erestor of Imladris that never should have been said. He was the King's honored guest and I drove him to leave. I was so afraid that he would take my place, and I acted very badly. A little like what happened with you, but so much worse."

She nodded, listening, surprised and yet not. "Likewise, about the knowing," she said sheepishly. "Though maybe it is different for me. I...Lorna and Ratiri can never know, that I was kept here. For what I did to my King, it was just in my eyes, but they would not understand. And there would be no way to ever make them see my viewpoint. They would hold it against Thranduil, and I cannot have that." She sucked in air sharply, as a random ache tore through her abdomen and she reached to rub at it.

"May I take you back, Earlene?" he asked, concerned. "I would like it if you were someplace warmer, and I know our King is worried for you. He could not leave little Allanah, she was not feeling well when this started."

"Yes. If I feel I must come back later, I know the way."

They both chuckled at this. He supported much of her extra weight as they returned, and Thanadir left her inside the door. "I will bring food soon," he said, with a kiss to her forehead. "I do not tell you very often, but you have my love, Earlene. Now go and sit, and put your feet up," he scolded with a smile. Closing the door, she still felt awful. But it was an awful she knew she could survive. The waiting arms of her husband were there, and they went to sit together, their foreheads touching in silent conversation.

Lorna slept so deeply that when she woke, she was still in the same position in which she'd gone to sleep.

Ratiri was up already, and his damp hair suggested he'd got through with bathing. She was glad, because she needed the tub herself, to ease her aching back. It was humiliating, needing to be carried like that when Earlene could manage fine on her own, and Lorna was determined to start on whatever exercise routine Ratiri might deem safe for her. She'd been in reasonably good shape before she got knocked up, but evidently nowhere near as good as Earlene, if Earlene could make such a walk while carrying so much up front.

Lorna kissed Ratiri's cheek before heading to the bathroom, and eyed herself when she stripped off. She still could see her feet, though she didn't know how long _that_ would last; the trouble was that she actually had something in her chest area now. Not much of something, but enough that she might actually need to buy a bra one of these days, and she'd decided already that she didn't like it. She had an unholy terror of winding up like poor Earlene - though part of that had been Thranduil's doing, so maybe he could control hers. She didn't have a third baby she needed to be nursing.

"Starving," she said, when she was through with her bath, meandering back out into the lounge. Even with all she'd eaten last night, she was once again ravenous, but either her metabolism was on overdrive or the twins were consuming it all, because while she'd gained girth around her middle, she had yet to gain much actual weight.

"This is not new," Ratiri said, guiding her before the fire to comb her hair. Both of them missed electricity, but they'd figured they'd best get used to it before they couldn't leave the Halls for God knew how long. "Your body wants it for something."

"Yeah, to fill up a black hole," she snorted. She was so hungry that she wasn't willing to wait for her hair to dry; she just threw it in a braid, tossed on a clean tunic and leggings, and lumbered after Ratiri, pretending not to notice how much he slowed down for her.

It had got to the point where they only gave a perfunctory knock on Earlene and Thranduil's door; they took breakfast there every morning, so it wasn't like they were unexpected, and it saved Thanadir the hassle of having to open it for them every day.

This was the one day, however, that Lorna wished they had waited. _Something_ had happened, if their expressions were anything to go by, and it wasn't something good. _Loss_. "We can come back later," she said, gently halting Ratiri with a hand pressed to his stomach. He went very still, eyes flitting from one to the other. "Just let us know - and let us know if you need anything." She itched to ask what happened, but if they wanted her and Ratiri to know, they'd tell them. Otherwise, Lorna didn't need to be all up in their business, as an American might put it.

"You will stay," said Thranduil sharply, even as dismay washed over his face. "I am sorry," he breathed, clearly struggling for composure. "I meant to say, please stay. Please forgive my choice of words. This affects all of us."

With clearly mixed emotions, they did as they were asked, and sat.

"I am sorry that this may ruin your appetites somewhat, but I will help with that. Especially Lorna and Earlene, you must be able to eat. If you want to know, Earlene's computer is on the table; read the email she received from her office in New York. I have to warn you that the content is graphic."

Neither needed it spelled out - whatever this was, it had to do with Von Ratched. Thranduil wouldn't look so stricken if it were anything else. Ratiri wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into him, though whether for her comfort or his, she wasn't sure.

Ratiri read quite a bit faster than Lorna, so he was the first to sit wide-eyed and grey, staring first at the laptop and then at Earlene. One of Lorna's emails had been about Earlene's boss, and how much he'd meant to her…

When Lorna reached the end of it, shocking, blinding rage flashed through her, but it lasted only moments, drowned out by grief. She'd only met John twice, but he was such a _nice_ man, so unlike what she'd ever expected of a rich person - down-to-Earth and kind, kind in a way she'd seen in very few in her life. Though if nothing else, she was relieved to see that he had already been dead before that monster profaned him as he had.

"Jesus," she whispered, and without thought went to sit beside Earlene, wrapping her arms around her friend. She didn't offer platitudes, didn't give any empty 'I'm sorrys'; in such a situation, words were useless. Touch was not.

Ratiri shut his eyes. They had always known Von Ratched would resurface sooner or later, but _this_...he was only thankful the pair of women had Thranduil to tend the worst of their hurts, so grief wouldn't consume them. Lorna had written that John seemed to regard Earlene as a daughter, and Von Ratched… Ratiri wasn't callous enough to say, 'Now what?', but he couldn't help but think it. Before, Von Ratched had been a threat, literally lurking on the edges of their world, but this was the opening salvo of all-out war.

"'Now what' is that we eat the meal Thanadir is bringing here, Ratiri. We are all deeply sorry that this has happened. This is horrible and painful, as it was meant to be. And I do not mean to minimize anyone's emotions or suffering but I am now forced to take stronger measures, because we have been told all we need to hear about how far he is willing to go."

 _Mairead_ , Lorna said. _I have to get my sister out of Baile, somehow. Send her on...on an extended holiday, or something. I've got the money._

 _As do I, Lorna,_ Thranduil's eyes held her own. _We will be discussing that and more later this morning, right after matters within our Halls are dealt with first._ Aloud he said, "After we eat there will be a...I suppose you would call it a ceremony, at my throne. Plans have been made against this day since the moment Von Ratched left Ireland. It is our system for reassigning duties and other matters. You are under no compulsion to attend, but you are welcome should you wish to."

Lorna and Ratiri looked at one another. "We'll go," she said, but added, _This afternoon or tomorrow, Ratiri and I need to go to Baile and pick up some things for Earlene - mourning things. Aside from Allanah, I'm the only blood kin she's got left, and we take that shite seriously here._ And she could try to figure out just how in flying fuck she was to convince Mairead - stable Mairead, who rarely did anything without careful planning - to pack up her family and take them on holiday for God knew how long. As much as she loathed the idea, and as uncertain as she was that Thranduil would be willing to do it, if worst came to worst, she'd ask him to plant a suggestion in Mairead's mind and get her moving. It was that or tell her the truth, and yeah, no. Lorna might not have sworn official promises (because she was allergic to them) but she'd given her personal word that she'd keep knowledge of this place and its people to herself, and her own words meant more to her than any empty oath she might repeat. But even if she'd been an oathbreaker, Mairead would never believe her anyway.

She felt guilty, thinking about her sister when Earlene had just lost someone so dear to her. Did doing so make her selfish? Probably, but it was human nature. All she could do for Earlene right now was hold her, her own god damned eyes burning but bone-dry.

"Nach bhfuil tú ina naonar, ar cheann daor," she said, hoping the gibberish of Irish would soothe as English would not. "Tá tú do theaghlach, ag fola agus trí rogha." _You are not alone, dear one. You have your family, by blood and by choice._

Earlene hugged her back, feeling dull and somewhere beyond emotion at the moment. But she knew Lorna was trying. This was Lorna, the never-tactile. She willed herself to move past the surprise at what she still found to be unusual, and just return the gesture in a way that did not feel perfunctory. Why had that become so hard? Right now, she had no idea and no will to figure it out. Though for maybe the first time, she actually noticed how silky Lorna's hair was, and smiled.

Before Lorna and Ratiri made their way to Thranduil's throne, or at least a place within good viewing distance of it, Thanadir had quietly informed Ratiri of the uniqueness of this event, and that despite Thranduil's minimizations it was something that had not been done since before the Battle Under the Trees. He had come to realize that the man was intensely interested in everything about their people in a way that Lorna was not, and did what he could to assist his understanding.

It became obvious to Ratiri based on counting their numbers that every elf in the Realm was present, gathered around the throne of the King in a formation that was somehow graceful in spite of not being strictly regimented. _Two hundred and eleven of them,_ he thought, having at last the precise answer to at least one question. The manner of their organization was uncertain; there was some division of them by gender but this was not strict. All of them stood in regal stillness, and in absolute silence. Earlene stood next to Thanadir, a circlet on her brow. In one hand she held a crown of woven birch twigs and autumn leaves, and with the other she kept a staff of polished wood and mithril upright.

Thranduil appeared out of nowhere, and every head of his subjects bowed to him deeply, in unison. The sight was elegant, and appeared choreographed though there was no reason to believe that this was the case. The King wore much finer clothes than they had yet seen; the fabrics were richer and there was a surcoat that was elaborately embroidered with the designs of the forest trees in winter; the same image as on the brooch that Thandir now wore. He walked to stand in front of his seneschal, who bent down on one knee before him before being raised up. Thanadir turned to Earlene, taking the crown from where it was balanced on her hand. He set it upon the King's head, and then next took the staff and presented this to him as well. Thranduil now walked to the dais beneath the steps to his throne, turned to those assembled and spoke. While Ratiri could not understand every word, he caught enough of what was said to understand the crux of it.

"Though we are fewer in number, we are not lesser in resolve, as we once again face a struggle against an ancient and determined foe. As of today we revise the usual duties each of us bears in order to listen in the forest. All will share in this. Thanadir will now read the assignments; come forward when called." Thranduil turned now, ascended to his throne, and sat. One at a time, Thanadir read names or pairs of names, and each individual or twosome moved up quickly to either go down on one knee or curtsy deeply, depending on gender - and Lorna, try though she might, couldn't help but twitch a tiny bit at the sight. It was their custom and she respected it, but even now, she couldn't bring herself to like it. She'd always worked her way around the whole 'monarchy' idea by calling it 'cultural differences' and doing her best to ignore it, as she had no doubt the elves ignored some of the things about the human world they disliked. Had she not been hormonal and grieving, it might have stayed at that, but between everything she felt a tendril of...not disgust, not anything so strong as that, but distaste. It so went against her every instinct, but she wasn't about to let on. Each elf was given a nod of acknowledgement from the King, but at the moment of Lorna's thoughts, his focus turned from them, to her. It was subtle and not easy to see, but a look of sadness washed over his face before it was banished, and his attention returned to his subjects. These were schedules of some kind; they were being assigned to times and regions of the forest though they made no sense to either Earlene or Ratiri. All of it really did not take very long, but when Thanadir finished his reading, no one moved.

Thranduil descended, and moved to an area of the stonework baldachin against which one of the massive tree roots that ran through the caverns had twisted and turned over countless centuries. It contained a natural hollow, into which he placed the end of his staff, his face already beginning to glow with radiance. His hand was offered to Thanadir, who in turn extended his own to another elf, and so on until they were all in contact with each other in a long, winding chain. Thranduil began a song on his sonorous baritone that was quickly taken up by all of them. Earlene had remained standing in her place throughout this, somehow managing to still appear dignified despite her swollen abdomen. Their song was ethereal, a blend of all ranges of voices, woven in a tapestry the like of which none of the humans had ever heard before. Earlene remembered the 'elven songs' in the movies they'd watched, and that was a pale shadow of the beauty that now reached her ears. Their light increased to a brilliance that moved toward the King, and in turn into the tree itself. A thrum, a vibration, could be felt in the stone beneath their feet. They saw and felt...something, move up and out of the caverns and into the woods beyond. The light from the elves died away; their song was concluding. And yet that of the King remained, and his connection to the tree was not broken. All watched, as the King's light took on a distinctly green shade, blazing one last time in an emerald brilliance, before ebbing swiftly away.

Very slowly, as if seeking to recover from a great strain, Thranduil removed the staff from the tree, with Thanadir following him. He stopped in front of Earlene, touching his forehead to hers. The staff was left with her, but the crown he yet wore. All assembled bowed to the King one last time, and then dispersed. When the last had gone, Thranduil moved to see Lorna and Ratiri. "We will return to our rooms," he said softly, not making much eye contact with either of them.

 _Thranduil_ , Lorna said, _can I talk to you? You have the sad eyes and I think it's partly my fault._ He'd just done so much - so staggeringly much, more than she'd expected of elves even with all she'd seen and read - and she didn't want him feeling like shite on her account. Knowing - or at least guessing - that she'd hurt him hurt her, too. He was her brother from another mother, at least as far as she was concerned, and even if the sad eyes _weren't_ her fault, you could never go wrong with hugs.

He looked down at her. _Yes, but I am very weary just now, Lorna. Even I have limits, and I am very near to them._

She wondered if she should just let him rest, but she didn't want him to do that while still feeling like shite that was probably at least partly her fault. _It won't take long_ , she promised, and tried to send him what approximation of peace she could summon. _But I doubt you want me to give you a hug in front of God and everybody, so that can wait a moment._ Public hugging was something she still wasn't used to yet, for all he looked like he needed it. She'd hurt him silently, and she didn't want it dragged out in company.

He shook his head, but he smiled. _I do not know what 'God and everybody' is, but it sounds very bad. So I appreciate your sense of discretion._

 _Not something I'm known for, but you're welcome_ , she said gently. When they reached his and Earlene's flat, she kept him back while the others continued into the lounge.

 _I made you sad_ , she said, hugging him. _I'm sorry. You don't need that shite on top of everything else, and I'm sorry._ This was a proper hug, too, the kind that on a human would be little short of rib-crushing. She'd made him sad at the worst possible time, and if she could do absolutely nothing else, she'd try to fix it. It would be one less thing on his plate.

He sat, taking her along with him, and holding her. A very large sigh escaped him. _I am not sure it is wise to discuss this just now, but, as you humans like to say...what the hell. I appreciate your words. It is only that I have tried so hard, so very hard, to try to be someone who could be completely accepted by you. I am not an idiot, I understand your views of kings. I really do. I can read your mind, Lorna, and the sum of what I have seen there more than justifies the contempt you feel. But I do not believe I have ever been those kings. Even when I was considerably more of a 'pompous arse', as you might put it. And I cannot help that I am a King, any more than you can help that you are not one. I have done my best to reconcile myself to this gulf between us. But there are times when even though I understand, it hurts. I do not blame you. We are both trying, and I do not know how to do any more than I have. I am still your friend, and you are mine. And here we are._

Oh, Jesus… _I didn't know,_ she said, tightening her hold - as if that was any kind of excuse. Lorna well knew how selectively oblivious she could be, when it was convenient to her. It was something she'd been working on for the last decade, but it still wasn't gone. _Jesus, I didn't know, and I'm sorry. You're not the one who's got to do anything more._ Oh, great, _now_ she cried? Her eyes were dry and burning when she found out about John, unable to produce a single god damn tear...so not helping right now. _Thranduil, I can't promise you I'll be okay with the 'king' thing any time soon, because you know me - I don't make promises if I don't know I can keep them, but I'll try._ Okay, she had to stop this. Fucking tears. She wasn't about to let go of him just yet, though, which unfortunately meant she wiped her face on his fancy robe- thing. At least her nose wasn't runny. _Sorry. I'm sure it'll come out._

He began laughing, and could not stop. _If I were to give you one command, it would be, Do not change, Lorna. You cannot imagine how you brighten my life. Or how much you have made me reflect and consider. By Eru, this is going to be the end of me, I have no energy for this right now._ And still he laughed.

It was laughter that was contagious, and she had to join in, though she was still crying a bit, too. No doubt the others thought they'd both lost their minds. _Well I'm glad I can help more than I hinder_ , she said. _You really are like my brother from another mother, though Thanadir would probably be horrified if he knew I thought so._

The Thanadir in question poked his head around the doorway, wondering at the sounds he heard, and simply grinned, withdrawing immediately.

With a groan of reluctance Thranduil set her on her feet. "Lamentably, the trees of our forest are not enough of a defense, and there is much more to discuss. We should join the others. But I thank you, for cheering me up," he said tiredly. He looked worn, but merry.

"You're welcome," she said, relieved, wiping her stupid eyes on her sleeve. "And you have a very nice dress...coat...thing…" It reminded her vaguely of _The Matrix_ , elf-style. When they got dressed up, they were more metro than she would have thought. (Then again, she was fairly sure she'd mistaken some blokes for ladies once or twice. It was the hair.)

They seated themselves, with Earlene somewhat insistently requiring her husband to sit with his feet up, while she pulled off his boots and glared at him when he appeared amused that she wished to rub his feet. _After what you just did out there you will sit still and rest and you will have to issue a direct order, if you think anything different is going to happen._ The sight of his wife's fierce insistence left him no doubt that he was loved, and honored. And truthfully he was very tired. He relented, nodding his head to her in gratitude as he found himself in the awkward position of trying to conduct what passed for a meeting while having his feet kneaded by her strong fingers.

Lorna curled up next to Ratiri as best she could, given that her gut already got in the way of everything. He wasn't actually capable of speech just yet, still lost in the sheer power of what he'd seen. Logically he'd known the Elves were capable of magic, but knowing it and seeing it were two very, very different things. It was achingly beautiful, and yet the reason for it…. He pulled Lorna onto his lap, resting his chin atop her head. He had never told her that holding her could occasionally be like cuddling a stuffed animal, and he valued his manhood enough that he never would.

"I heard what was said by you, Thranduil, and the words of the song, but I do not fully comprehend what happened out there," Earlene said respectfully. "Am I to understand that you can somehow ask the trees for help? And if that is correct, _how_ can trees help? Forgive my ignorance. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen or heard," she said in a voice that seemed to vanish into silence.

It was Thanadir that answered. "The...you would call it magic, of the King allows him a special bond with the forest. Our enemy can move unseen. In shadow. You already know this because he went to your cottage, Earlene. At times when there has been a great need we have called on the trees. The woods of the Elvenking are not completely ordinary. They know what lives among them, what passes by them. Shadows cannot hide from them. If he comes inside the borders again it will be known to us; the trees will tell as long as there is an elf to hear. That is what all the assignments were about. That we will each do our part, being scattered through the forest at all times, listening."

Her lips parted. "It is a...magical sentry network?" she asked, trying to find vocabulary when there was none.

"That," Lorna said, "is amazing. Beyond bloody brilliant."

Ratiri pondered this, skipping over a thought he didn't want and settling on a better one. "Is it something like the Girdle of Melian?" he asked.

"No," said Thranduil. "It is us asking the trees for help. And them agreeing to do so. They have no power to keep him out. Only the power to detect him should be breach our borders again. He will not know about anything like this, or that it can be possible. Such as him have ever overlooked the creation of Yavanna, and its power, whereas the elves have ever shown her works the greatest honor second only to Elbereth. I do not think I need to tell you that I feel forced to assume he is on the move again, and that we must take precautions as if he is already on our doorstep. Earlene, Lorna, you are more vulnerable than ever as you grow heavy with children. And then there is the issue of those we care about outside of this forest. I have agonized, since reading of his deeds, because he makes it plain what he is willing to do to break our will. It is this that grieves me most. Inside this fortress, we are beyond his reach. Not so our mortal friends in Lasg'len, and even Baile. I do not know what to do. They are vulnerable in a war of which they are completely ignorant...and yet that will not save them."

"Mairead's in the most danger," Lorna sighed. "Mairead and her family. I want to send them on indefinite vacation to...southern France, or somewhere, but I've got no idea how to convince her to go. If I just told her some mentaller was after my family, she'd want to go to the police, not go on the run."

"What about Big Jamie?" Earlene said. "Is he not just as vulnerable as your sister and her children?"

Lorna looked at her. "... _Fuck_ ," she growled. "He is. Jesus, I could _maybe_ have conned Mairead into going on an extended holiday - _maybe_ \- both'v them? Jesus…" How in the name of fucking hell was she meant to pull this off? Thought of any of them suffering the same fate as John...it was nearly enough to make her sick.

"There's only one choice", Earlene said, "if we agree that doing nothing is not an option. We have to tell them the truth, and hope that they would be...like Ratiri was. And yet I cannot see them being content to endure an indefinite limbo in the Halls. Orla in theory should be able to find some corner of the planet far enough out of Von Ratched's reach that it wouldn't be worth his while to keep looking. What worries me more is, how far does this go? Will he decide to cut up Ian? Little Orla in town? Bridie? It is the fact that we cannot possibly shield all of these people who have embraced us that makes me ill."

"Orla could hide them somewhere, if we could convince them to go," Lorna said. "He wouldn't be able to trace them, and I doubt he'd waste his time looking. With Lasg'len...Christ, could we shift the whole village? Unlike Baile, they know about you lot. Could we afford to just uproot them all and sent them to Tuscany or wherever?" The logistics would be appalling, but better that than vivisected. _Anything_ was better than that.

"There is far more to consider," said Thanadir. "You cannot overlook the possibility that this action was taken to create a reaction, from us. To see what we will or will not do. We have no knowledge of his location, his movements. Moreover, this may be the beginning of a pattern. How did he begin? He committed a terrible crime, and waited to see how he might leverage our response to his advantage. He had an opportunity at Earlene, in the end, though it went badly awry. And now he has committed another terrible crime. Who is to say what his precise intentions are? We know he wishes to strike at the King, and now presumably Earlene as well. So why take the one action guaranteed to cause us to go on the defensive again?"

Earlene drove her thumb into the arch of Thranduil's foot, impressed with Thanadir's analysis and easily using it to extrapolate. "Because the first time around we went into 'lockdown' for a week, and then changed to a pattern of guarded caution. This gave him a chance, once. Perhaps he hopes or believes we will repeat this behavior?" She tilted her head.

Something occurred to Ratiri that he absolutely was not going to voice right now, in company - Mairead and Big Jamie _might_ be safer, if for an icky reason. Von Ratched had killed John to strike at Earlene, but striking was not what he wanted from Lorna. Pissing her off would not work in his favor, assuming he was at all serious in his...whatever the hell that was.

Thranduil spoke. "I think we should proceed, and quickly, as though he is not here yet in Ireland. And I do not believe he is. I do not believe he knows of our awareness of his airplane, and there are few ways to cross the great ocean. It is very inconvenient to do to your friends and family, Lorna, but I am afraid Earlene's analysis is correct. We will have to reveal ourselves to them, and take measures to hide them. I do not believe you could live with the alternative."

"I couldn't," Lorna said. "If my inaction kills my family and my friend - I couldn't live with that. I'd lose my mind. I owe those two the fact that I'm both alive and sane right now. I can't repay them by leaving them open to a nightmare they'd never see coming. Not any more than I could sit back and let someone discover you lot, if it was within my power to stop it." She actually managed a smile. "If nothing else, it'll be interesting to see how they react. They're Irish. Nothing keeps them down for long."

"Well, let me know if I'm cooking dinner," Earlene grinned. "And for once, maybe we should give Mairead a break and tell her she doesn't have to bring a cake."

A soft moan of disappointment escaped the seneschal.

"Or not," she smiled, shaking her head.

Lorna and Ratiri departed soon afterward, with Thanadir escorting them though they more than knew the path by now. At the halfway mark, Lorna was visibly beginning to flag. "Thranduil said I am to carry you if you tire. And to ask you to please not slug me," he said amused and yet half-seriously, as he lifted her up into his arms while Ratiri did his damnedest to contain his laughter by finding a fascinating mushroom growing on a tree stump.

"You lot are so lucky I like you," Lorna said, glowering at Ratiri. "Thank you, though. I mean it." Thanadir couldn't read her mind, and needed actual verbal gratitude.

The elf smiled, and delivered her safely to her vehicle, waving goodbye to them before turning back. Soon, it was his turn to walk among the trees and listen. No one could blame him, if he had assigned himself this section of the forest.

Thranduil leaned back, still not having moved from the sofa. "Meluieg, you have rubbed my feet for a very long time."

"Compared to how long Thanadir has spent rubbing my feet?" she said obstinately.

"Thanadir is not six months pregnant."

"And I did not just use up all my energy doing...whatever it was you did that was so moving that I will never be able to forget it. I could not help you, because I am not an elf. This is one of what few ways I have to show you my gratitude, and to do something for you in return."

"You are becoming a very stubborn and insubordinate subject, Earlene," he teased, as his lips curled into a smile.

"Good." She let go of his feet and moved herself under him more, forcing her legs under his as he watched in amusement. "Give me one of your hands," she asked, leaning over to grab one of them when he did not move quickly enough to suit her. His eyebrows raised; he had never had his hands massaged before.

"You are impatient, too, though I confess I am enjoying the results," he intoned.

"And you are very loquacious, for one who must be rather tired."

He sighed, realizing that this was Earlene, and the odds of him winning a verbal battle were poor. "I am."

For many minutes he enjoyed the touch of her hands, while she pondered.

"Thank you for considering that, but I do not think such a thing is warranted. You are pregnant, your strength is being drained quite enough by our children."

"Perhaps. But the methodology was pleasant, even if it did leave me very tired," she said quietly. Her mind had gone back to memories of their earliest days together, when he had lain with her and somehow taken her energy into himself, when he was still partly faded. "I would still do it gladly. There is nothing wrong with my strength. It is more that gravity and my anatomy are not so very compatible these days. Besides, I can sleep if I am tired. You, on the other hand, have a kingdom to manage."

One eye opened to look at her. "Why do I think this is a thinly veiled attempt at seduction?"

"No idea. But then again, surely you meant that as a rhetorical question?"

He chuckled. Her tenacity was impressive. "How do you do it, Earlene? How do you experience such a terrible loss, and still manage to think of others?"

Reaching for his other hand now, she considered the question. "What Thanadir said to me helped. A great deal. I am never going to forget John. And I doubt I am done grieving his loss. But what Thanadir said about courage...it is true. I will honor his memory as best I can by not letting that thing have the satisfaction he desires. It is the best I can try to do."

"I am sorry, that I could not come to you. Please know that I wanted to."

She snorted. "Were it not my strange tendency to run to your dungeon every time I am very upset, you would not need to. And you did come to me. I have long accepted that when you cannot do something for me yourself, you send Thanadir. And while he is not you…" her head shook. "Sometimes he says what I most need to hear...Ow!" A frown came over her as a brand new discomfort in her belly completely distracted her. Thranduil sat up very quickly, having felt it through her thoughts, and placed his hand on her.

"You are being kicked. One of them is pressing up against your ribs, too." He rubbed at her skin until it felt better, as she relished his touch. And she had no means by which to not think on how much she wished to be touched more. "I do not mind," he said. "It is a compliment, when the one you love desires you."

"It also feels selfish, and rude, when I can see how tired you are. There are times I wish I could shut off my mind."

"I think you are forgetting that it was my decision to seduce you," he said, kissing her softly. "Actions have consequences."

"I was rather eager to be seduced," she said, not about to let him off easily.

"Because you were dreaming," he reminded her.

"Dreaming, awake….it did not change that you were and are the most beautiful man I have ever seen. It is true that had you approached me as you are now, I would have not offered myself quite so rapidly, because of feeling too shy. I would have wanted you just the same, but felt unable to show it. How could _anyone_ not want you?" The yearning in her voice was palpable.

 _This_ was something new, and a little astonishing. He had never considered this particular aspect of how she felt about him. "Meluieg, you must know that not every female finds me desirable."

"Maybe. But I will always think something is wrong with them," she grinned. "Ow!" wiped the smile from her face. "What are they doing in there, having an argument?"

"They do not have thoughts yet, meluieg. At least, none that I can sense. And, enough bantering." He swung his legs off of her lap and rose in a fluid motion, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. The garment she was wearing for the ceremony they'd had was extremely simple, and loosening some laces allowed him access to a great many places. Yet that did not suffice. "Off with this," he said. "I want to enjoy all of you. Properly." His hands moved everywhere as he became aroused, remembering this first encounter with her. _The first touch of her hand, the scent of her skin, the taste of her._ The memory of it made him groan with anticipation, as he caressed and touched. Her milk let down, giving him more with which to occupy himself. _I would not wish the discomforts of pregnancy on you all the time, Earlene, but your body gives me more enjoyment now than ever. Your skin is rosy and glows, your hair grows long and shines. Your breasts give delight and my hands feel my children inside of you. I wish you could understand that everything about you is exquisite to me._ He lifted one of her legs gently and entered her easily, the eagerness written on his features.

'Exquisite' to her was confined to the sensations he was creating in her at this moment in time, when between his mouth, his hands, and his manhood no part of her felt neglected. He had always been a talented lover, and that had not abated in the slightest. With each passing week, he found some new angle or change in position that allowed both of them to have great enjoyment in spite of her swelling belly. Maybe even because of it, she wasn't certain. Her body reacted differently; her arousal was more intense, and she felt delightful sensations throughout where she carried the girls. And it felt so easy now, for his efforts to bring her to the heights of pleasure, as if her body wanted to climax for him. It was all a jumble. _Valar, I love you Earlene,_ she heard as he achieved his release mixed in with the sounds of Allanah beginning to fuss. The next thing she knew the baby was nursing, quite content to find that her meal was already flowing freely. Back in bed, her husband molded himself against her, caressing both her and their little girl. Mercilessly, his fingers found their way to her cleft and continued to explore, as she could only helplessly enjoy herself from his attentions. These were precious moments for both of them; proof that their love and happiness could not be easily broken. They continued to exchange tender kisses as her mind lingered on how much his words caused her to feel appreciated. Her reverie was interrupted. _Meluieg, have you thought at all, about what we will name our children?_

Her eyes widened a little, because truthfully every time a thought had wandered down that path, it immediately encountered a roadblock. She had read many elven names, and there were many Irish names, not to mention many names in general; it felt impossible. Names that would not draw ridicule in the human world seemed desirable, yet these daughters would outlive her; their lives would hardly have begun when her time was over. Unless they would choose a destiny that Earlene would not find comprehensible, they would always live on. _What to call them, indeed?_ And while many elven names were beautiful, some had four, five syllables. That made them at best a mouthful to manage and at worst something that everyone would truncate into a nickname. _Perhaps it would be best to wait until they come into this world, to see if there is something about them_. What she said aloud was, "Did you"?

Thranduil chuckled softly. "No, but now I at least see your thinking on the matter. Most humans have two names, do they not? A first name and a middle name?"

"Three, if you count the surname. But, yes. Many do, at least in English speaking lands."

"I do not mind, meluieg, to wait. I have no strong opinions or anything already in mind."

At that moment Tail came bounding up onto the bed with wild eyes, and raced to attack the tassel on one of the decorative pillows. With a great show of grabbing it in his claws, he began to bunny-kick it into submission. "At least we got one name right," Earlene quipped, beginning to go glassy-eyed because in all this time, he had not stopped his pleasuring of her.

"I think we have conversed enough about this, for now," he said, joining his body to hers. Somehow he managed to not jostle the baby in the least, as he moved within her until her her eyes squeezed shut so tightly that her vision went white. He smiled as he kissed her softly, watching her go limp with relaxation underneath him. For a brief time, both he and Earlene dozed off and when he woke, he saw that Allanah slept too, her tiny rose-red lips gone slack against Earlene's nipple. With a smile of immense joy, he held his little girl against both of them, to sleep for just a few more minutes.

{July, 1810 Krysuvik, Iceland}

Avathar did not know how long he had slept. Time meant nothing to one who was timeless, and Ennor had not been worth walking in millennia. As with most of his kind, he had retreated to the wilderness, to a mountain undisturbed by by the hairless monkeys who dared call themselves the Secondborn. Their pathetic lives were over in a heartbeat; they were beneath his notice, so he retreated, awaiting something worthy of his time. Until, one day, his home was disturbed.

He stirred, irked, yet curious. Someone or something trod upon the sulphurous slopes of his mountain, foolishly braving the traps he had set. Who would be foolish enough to venture here, to this desolate land of treacherous, shifting earth and boiling water? And _why_? They were not yet near enough for him to discern their thoughts, but they were in fact mortals. When last he roused, there had been none living in this land save him; when had they arrived? This he must investigate, for those who disturbed his home could not be allowed to leave it.

George MacKenzie was fascinated, but he was also a touch nervous. He had explored many a remote area as a mineralogist, but none quite like Sulphur Mountain. It had an Icelandic name, but he couldn't have hoped to pronounce it if he tried. It was a hellish place, literally; the stink of sulphur was heavy where it issued from banks of white clay, steam issuing from vents sometimes too small to be seen. Very, very hot steam, so hot he was quite certain it would scald any unlucky enough to touch it. It hazed the sunlight, while at the same time reflecting it and bewildering the eyes. All too often the vapors would thicken until none of the party could see the others, leaving them to fumble their way along, carefully trying to avoid any pitfalls. And indeed one of the party, Mister Bright, took one wrong step and wound up in hot clay to the knee.

He swore, wrenching himself free, and George and the others hurried to him as fast as they could through the mire of fog. Cutting his trouser leg free took only a moment, pulling the superheated fabric away from the burn and stripping off his boot as well, all while he cursed. The fabric was so hot it burned the tips of George's fingers, but Bright's own burns were not so severe as they might have been, had he stepped in water. His trousers hadn't had time to saturate on his leg, and though they had to strip off his sock, his actual boot was useable. The leg was angry and red, with a blister here and there, but no worse - not that George was willing to let him continue.

"I won't have you risk yourself," he said firmly, when Bright vehemently protested. The man was pale and sweating, locks of dark hair stuck to his forehead, and George remained immovable. "You need that wound tended to, Bright, and should you go on, you'd risk the rest of us along with you." The heat was already nearly unbearable; to go on while supporting him was not to be thought of. Even getting him back down the mountain would be difficult enough. The sulphur burned the lungs, and seemed to coat the skin in a fine layer of grit - God knew what it would do to an open wound, especially if he remained overly long.

Down Bright went, with ill grace, and the rest went on, through a landscape of steam and clay and boiling mud, into a cauldron of glittering, sulphurous crystals. It was like walking upon an alien world, and George wished he had some means of capturing all that he saw. It became more beautiful, and more bizarre, until they reached a chamber that seemed almost man-made. The crystallized sulphur glittered even brighter, though it was lit by nothing he could discern, so hot it was all but unendurable. There was nothing to be found - not until, quite suddenly, there was.

A man stood before them, where no man had stood mere moments ago. Very tall, powerfully built, unfashionably long, pale hair, and entirely nude. Was he some eccentric that had made his home in this hellish place? If so, _how_? There was nothing here to hunt, and surely even the cold spring was not drinkable.

The man said nothing - merely watched them with eyes as pale and cold as chips of ice. George had thought this ludicrous peculiarity, but the sharpness, the focus of those eyes, arrested him where he stood, and his heart leapt into his throat. The strange man approached - _stalked_ , more like - regarding George and all his party as though he were a scientist and they some fascinating new species. When he spoke, it was in no language any of them could understand - certainly not English, but not Icelandic, either. There was something hypnotic in that arctic gaze, something that dulled his mind….

George shook himself, stepping out of the cavern. There had been nothing in there of note, though unease lingered within him. Down they went, through slopes both hellish and beautiful, and he wondered if he dared return. There was a wealth of sulphur, and yet something within him warned against exploiting it.

When the mortals had left, Avathar stood long in silence. He could not understand whatever tongue they spoke, but what he had seen in their minds - they had come far, so very far, further than he ever would have thought them capable. Perhaps it was time to wake, and walk among them, and see what entertainment they might provide.


	49. Chapter 49

On the drive home, lacking any major distraction, Lorna grieved. She'd barely known John Oehlert, but they'd bonded over that bottle of whiskey and stories of Ireland. She hadn't known as much about Skibbereen as she'd liked, and had wound up Googling quite a bit on her iPhone. He was so very unlike what she'd thought rich people must be - and indeed, unlike many others at that party. She could only thank God he had been dead before that bastard went to town on him, and wondered why Von Ratched had done it. To kill him first was a twisted sort of mercy from a man she wouldn't have thought would have any mercy in him.

He wouldn't get his hands on Mairead's family, or Big Jamie's. She had the money to send them somewhere nice, and Orla to cover their tracks. John had been easy to get to, but hopefully Von Ratched wouldn't want to expend the energy necessary to try to track them down. The forest was his target, the forest and Thranduil and Earlene. Now that he'd done his thing with Lorna - and ugh, she didn't even want to _think_ about that - hopefully she and those she cared about would be beneath his notice.

She said as much, and Ratiri gave a vague, hopeful answer. He wasn't so sure at all about that, but now was not the time to say so. He'd hoped Lorna was off Von Ratched's radar now that he'd done...what he'd done...but the fact that he'd taken her T-shirt, that he'd noticed her at all, made Ratiri deeply uneasy. She might be secondary on his list, but she was almost certainly still _on_ it, if for different reasons. He wouldn't kill her right off, Ratiri was sure, but that would not be a good thing.

"What are you going to tell Mairead?" he asked, weaving through traffic. It was late into afternoon now, but they hadn't yet hit rush hour.

"The truth, or part'v it," Lorna said. "Earlene lost someone very dear to her, and I want to help her mourn, but God knows I can't do it on my own. Mairead'll make a cake and I'll get Jamie to bring along some'v the good stuff, and when we're at the cottage, Thranduil can do his elf-thing. Bit hard to argue with it, once you've seen it. Once that's out'v the way, we can get down to business and lay out plans."

"What will they tell everyone in Baile, though? They're both business owners, it's not like they can just vanish for God knows how long without some excuse."

Lorna sighed. "That," she said, "I don't know. One thing at a time. Thranduil won't want to do it, but if all else fails, he could mind-whammy a few people." Which amused her, in a slightly dark way, given what he'd tacitly admitted he'd done to Earlene. She wondered how much Earlene had...humanized him, for lack of a better word...before she herself came along. She'd told him how fortunate he was that it was Earlene who had found him, but she wondered if he even yet understood _how_ fortunate. Earlene wasn't just one in a million, she was possibly one in a _billion_ , and she was the one who had found that tiny cottage in the ass-end of nowhere. That she was so smart and so accomplished yet willing to sign over her freedom to an extent even most BDSM enthusiasts would call extreme, to be deferential but still very much her own person, still so very strong - Lorna wouldn't have believed it possible. She still didn't properly understand it, either, but she didn't need to. She was quite certain there were things about her that Earlene would never understand, either. They were two very different people.

What would have happened if she'd been the one to buy that cottage? It wouldn't have been pretty, nor would it have lasted long. She would have told him to get fucked as soon as he'd demanded her fealty, and then she would have been Queen Bitch of the Universe and donated the cottage to some historical society. Not only would nobody else have been able to ever move in, he would have had tourists tromping through from time to time. Yes, he was very, very lucky it had been Earlene.

And Lorna was lucky he hadn't demanded the same of her. She'd wondered why until he told her; he knew her even better than she thought. Her word was better than any formal oath she might swear, and it had the added benefit of not giving anyone any actual power over her. She liked Thranduil a great deal; he was her friend, her brother from another mother, but that didn't mean she wanted to hand him the authority to order her around. If she did that, they wouldn't be friends anymore, they would be king and subject, and _that_ was such a horror to her that she actually twitched.

But she'd promised him she'd try to accept that he was a king as well as her friend, so try she would. He'd accepted so much about her, so much that others wouldn't, that she owed it to him.

Ratiri pulled off at the Kildare exit, meandering around the back roads until they reached Baile. Mairead would still be at work for another half hour, so they'd hit the pub first.

She looked at Ratiri as they went inside - poor Ratiri, who hadn't signed on for any of this shite. Granted, Lorna hadn't either, but she'd had more time to adjust than he had, and no illusions about the elves and their history to break. She doubted he would ever regret finding them, though, which was a mercy. Were he to regret it, it would break her heart; he'd so loved fantasy all his life that having it ruined for him would be a true tragedy.

The pub was still sparsely populated, with only the daytime regulars. Michael and Big Jamie were behind the bar, talking about football, from the sound of it, while Jamie polished the dark wood.

"One'v these days we'll forget what you look like," he said, looking from her to Ratiri. "You're here weeks on end, then gone as long."

"We're not here for any good reason, unfortunately," Lorna sighed. "We just had word Earlene's old boss died. Murdered, and bloody horribly. Man was like a da to her, so she's broken up, and I can't handle helping her mourn like the Irish do by myself."

Jamie put down his rag. "What happened?"

"It's not fit to talk about where anyone's eating," she said darkly. "It was bad. Really, _really_ bad. I wish you'd come out with me, Jamie, for the evening. I know it's asking a lot, but aside from her little niece, I'm the only blood relative she's got, and I'm not good at this. You and Mairead got me through losing Liam. I'm hoping you can help me get Earlene through losing John."

"'Course I will," Jamie said. "Ronan's old enough that he can start helping to look after the place anyway. You going to get Mairead, too?"

"I am, once she's off work. Can never go wrong with one'v her cakes. Christ, you should see Cian putting one away."

"His stomach is attached to a black hole," Ratiri said. "It's the only explanation."

"Orla was impressed," Jamie said. "I'll get her to do up a fruit platter, and I'll make some fresh sandwiches before we go."

"You're a saint, Jamie, you really are," Lorna said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. She wondered how the hell he'd handle finding out that wasn't the only reason she was dragging the pair of them out to Lasg'len - Thranduil had said Jamie had been wondering about the elves, so maybe he wouldn't be _too_ shocked. Mairead, on the other hand...Mairead was more like Lorna, a pragmatic sort not given to the fantastical. She was going to need evidence more concrete than pointy ears, which after all could be the result of prosthetics or even surgery (which was a thing Lorna had boggled to find even existed). Thranduil was going to have to demonstrate some power or other, and it _really_ needed to not be telepathy. Oh well. They'd figure it out when they got there.

She and Ratiri went to visit Mairead at the beauty shop, not wanting to wait until she was off work to get the explanation out of the way. She'd want to get a cake baked, unless she already had one sitting around (a definite possibility, with Mairead) but they might not have time. Thanadir would be sad, but Thanadir also still had plenty of leftover birthday cake, so he'd live.

Baile's beauty shop had last been updated in the 1960's, so parts of the interior were definitely...vintage...but it was nevertheless professional, clean and tidy and smelling faintly of perm solution, which made Lorna's nose wrinkle. How the hell Mairead could deal with that on a regular basis, she didn't know, but there were plenty of old ladies who still had their hair permed and shampoo-set in the same manner they had when the shop was new.

Mairead herself looked frazzled, and Lorna felt rather guilty for dropping this on her, but there was nothing for it. The news made her eyes widen, though her hands, bound by muscle memory, kept moving.

"That poor woman," she said. "Of course I'll go. I just wish I had something baked."

"Don't worry about it yet," Lorna said. "There's still birthday cake leftover, and Big Jamei'll do up some sandwiches. She's not in much'v an eating mood right now anyway."

"Bad, was it?" Mairead asked.

"Oi, Mairead O'Reilly, you can't go abandoning us just like that," Anne said. She was co-owner of the beauty shop, a short, curvy woman roughly Mairead's age, her hair done in a platinum bob better suited for a woman ten years younger.

Lorna glowered at her. "My cousin's friend got vivisected," she said. "Yes she can, and she will. Thank bloody God we didn't get sent any pictures, but the description was bad enough. Only mercy is he was dead first."

Anne paled. "Why in God's name would anyone do that?"

"We don't know yet," Ratiri said, lying far more smoothly than Lorna ever could have. "And right now it doesn't matter. The man was like a second father to Earlene, and she's devastated, so yes, we'll be stealing Mairead and Big Jamie for an evening." His tone was one Lorna had never actually heard before - it brooked no argument.

"All right," Anne said, eying him. "You go on then, Mairead, once you're done there. We'll figure something out."

Lorna sighed. She was not looking forward to this. At all.

"Lorna got them all to come, and they'll be here within an hour and a half," read Earlene. "Sure god _this_ is going to be fun. Not."

They had all walked to the cottage after Thranduil had rested for several hours, mysteriously having finally fallen asleep after...activities. It was just as well; it gave Earlene some time to think about the totality of how awful this was all likely to get, in privacy. Though she could not really hide from her husband and did not want to, nor did she want the constant patter of her own fears and concerns to have to be another burden for him to manage. He was going to have quite a lot of those. After extensively turning it over in her mind, she kept coming to an inescapable conclusion: Securing the safety of Lorna's loved ones would likely be a sort of 'last hurrah' with the outside world until the birth of these children...that looked to be over three months away. For their safety, and due to their increasing physical limitations, she and Lorna were….well, fucked. You couldn't fight against a Von Ratched in any manner of speaking when your abdomen needed its own postal code, that much did not take a genius to work out. Like it or not, they were both committed to the obligations of childbearing until the children were born. _No wonder they called it Confinement, in times gone by. It's a jail without bars, not that I think I'll mention that to Lorna,_ she reflected. Her world was about to become very small indeed, and the only thing for it was to accept, and try to find something in it that amounted to sunshine. _This would be a truly excellent time to have a final fling with ,_ was another notion. Books, something she wanted to learn about, try to do...something? _But I'm not Thanadir. I can't just get colored pencils and be Goya in a week, or pick up some musical instrument and do what he does….but I am still very intelligent and there must be something valuable to which I could bend my mind,_ she reasoned. _At least, the part of my mind not occupied with which tit just got sucked dry or when the last time was the baby shat._ Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. _This isn't working._ Rising off the bed, she decided to walk around the Halls. Because if nothing else, she'd be goddamned if her mobility wasn't preserved until the last possible instant, and that meant keeping on no matter what hurt or what was heavy. With a set to her jaw, she checked that Allanah was sleeping soundly before lengthening her stride as much as she could and leaving their rooms.

Fortunately, Mairead and Big Jamie hadn't asked too many questions on the drive - but then, what was there to ask? Earlene's boss, her friend, had been murdered and gutted. That kind of spoke for itself.

Jamie had somewhat outdone himself on sandwiches and other nibbles, so much so that they took Lorna's van rather than try to balance it all in Ratiri's Bronco (the back of which was filled with odds and ends already; he might be a doctor, but he was still a man, and thus his car was obligated to be something of a disaster). Driving it was becoming ever more uncomfortable, but nobody drove her van except her, dammit.

Darkness had fallen by the time they passed through the village, rounding the curve and headed for the cottage. "Jesus, look at those trees," Mairead said, peering out the window. "They make your forest look like a baby."

"It sort'v is, compared to this," Lorna said, thinking, _you have no idea. Yet._ She really wondered how these two were going to take this nightmare of a revelation, and hoped it wouldn't be a disaster.

"Is that where Earlene lives?" Jamie asked, when they approached the cottage. "Christ she got lucky. Er, until now."

Mairead rolled her eyes. "Jamie Corcoran, sometimes I could slap you."

"Oi, shut it," Lorna said, pulling up the drive. "Her husband and brother-in-law'll be in with her, too."

"That poor lad," Mairead said, shaking her head. "Niamh's still carrying a torch for him."

"She'll be carrying it a long, long time," Lorna snorted. "He's too old for her. _Way_ too old."

The lot of them got out, each taking up some of the Styrofoam boxes filled with God knew what. Jamie had a fruit platter on top of that, too; it was fortunate Thanadir ate so much, or they'd be having leftovers for weeks.

Lorna managed to balance everything long enough to open the door, rapping on it as she did so. "You lot in here?" she called softly.

Earlene came to the door with a suitable grimace and even slightly red eyes. Jesus, did she feel bad for putting on an act. Not that it _was_ an act in the strict sense of the word, but this wasn't how she actually grieved. _This is for a higher cause,_ she told herself as she thanked them for coming on such short notice, and the disruption when they barely knew her. They were all invited in; some snacks had been put out like crackers and cheese and fruit, and glasses and every form of alcohol in her possession. Because, Ireland.

"I'm afraid we've brought a kitchen's worth," Lorna said. "Dunno where you want these?"

Mairead didn't bother asking. She neatly deposited her boxes on the kitchen counter and enfolded Earlene in a hug. "It's sorry I am," she said. She gave hugs rather better than Lorna did; she did, after all, have four children, and she wasn't the size of a ten-year-old with bony elbows.

"Thank you, Mairead," Earlene said, returning the hug. And she meant it. Whatever odd first impression this woman had made on her had long faded into the background. Things were settled, plates filled, drinks offered, and soon everyone was seated. Thanadir wisely held back from the main group of them at Thranduil's silent suggestion; it would allow him to enjoy what was brought with greater discretion. While they ate, they made small talk, no one knowing exactly how to begin (that was Lorna's department) and besides, sense dictated that they not ruin appetites until after the food was eaten.

"So, I've brought you out here for more than one reason," Lorna sighed. "We know the man who murdered John. He did it specifically to hurt Earlene, because he's after all'v us, and I'm worried you're next. I want to pack both'v your families off somewhere until this is over."

Mairead choked on her sandwich, and Ratiri thumped her on the back until she brought it up. "You _what_?" she demanded, wheezing. "Lorna Saoirse Donovan, you explain yourself right this bloody minute. I can't just go haring off God knows where - I can't afford it, for one thing."

" _I_ can," Lorna sighed. "Look, his name is Von Ratched - we met him at Earlene's lawyer party in New York when we were there. He saw us - specifically, those two," she pointed at Thranduil and Thanadir "-and decided to make our lives hell."

" _Why?_ " Big Jamie asked - a damn valid question, even she had to admit.

Ugh, how to do this...she looked from Thranduil to Thanadir to Earlene, and saw that Thranduil held up his hand, fixing his eyes on Jamie and Mairead. "This conversation is about to become very painful for all involved," the King said, "because the answer to your question is that Cian and I are not human." He was looked at like he was announcing that the UFOs had just landed, and not in a good way. "I know you have no reason to believe Earlene, or myself. I am hoping that your knowledge of Lorna and perhaps even Ratiri will at least allow for hearing this out, because it could not be more serious."

Mairead looked at Lorna, who winced. "Cén cineál joke breoite é seo? Nó a chreideann tú i ndáiríre é?" _What kind of sick joke is this? Or do you actually believe him?_

"Níl sé greannmhar, Lorna," Big Jamie added, visibly repelled. _It's not funny, Lorna._

"Fuck it," Lorna sighed, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. Without actually pausing to consider what she was doing, she picked up a steak knife - Earlene's knives were all so beautifully sharp - and sliced her palm open with it, not even registering what she'd done until it was over. Oops. She held the offending appendage out, ignoring their stereo cries of alarm. Even Ratiri twitched, though he knew what was coming. "Thranduil, fix it, please. This'll make you two shut up and believe."

Anger flashed across the King's eyes. "This would better have been demonstrated by someone _not_ pregnant, Lorna, but as ever you make your point." He reached to touch the tips of her fingers, slowing down his ordinary speed of healing. He'd be damned if she pulled this stunt a second time, because he was accused of this being some inane parlor trick. In about thirty seconds, the injury was completely gone, and Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. _Valar, this was going to be a mess._

"Well, I was hardly going to stab Ratiri," she said, holding her hand out for Mairead and Jamie to inspect. Mairead had gone quite grey, but Jamie looked from it, to her face, to Thranduil.

"I bloody knew there was something different about you two," he said, wide-eyed. "I _knew_ it, for all it had to be mad. What - what _are_ you?"

"What I want to know is why in bloody fuck you'd do something that stupid, Lorna?" Mairead demanded, temporarily distracted from any supernatural happenings by an urge to shake her baby sister. "You're up the yard, you can't go - _that._ "

Lorna sighed. "Again, I was hardly going to stab Ratiri, and I know you'd sit there and think this was some fucked-up prank for the next six hours if I didn't. Thranduil and Thanadir are elves."

"Elves who could have just as readily demonstrated this _instead of you_ ," Thranduil said icily, for the first time ever seeming to be genuinely hacked off at her. "Your sister is correct, Lorna. You cannot...oh what _good_ does it do," he said, exasperated and slouching in his chair.

"It does plenty good, just always after the fact," Mairead said. "Believe it or not, she's better than she was." Eying Thranduil closely, she took in the truly unearthly blue of his eyes. "Elves?" she said. " _Really?_ "

"Yes, really," Lorna said. "Fine, fine, I won't do it again. It's not like I make a habit'v it or anything."

"You got stabbed in the foot as a teenager," Ratiri pointed out.

"By _someone else_. Anyway, yes, elves. And the one that's after us, he's not an elf, he's a Maia, and he didn't know there were any elves left until he saw us at that party, and now he's...hunting. And I don't want him hunting you."

Thranduil tried again. "I am truly sorry for this...assault on your sensibilities. There is a reason we have remained hidden from almost all humans outside of Lasg'len. But Lorna is not exaggerating. You are here because we have valid reason to fear for your lives; this discussion is not being undertaken lightly. The...evil creature that is out there is more powerful than any human, with abilities that would leave any of you defenseless. He has already been here once, and that is why Lorna and Ratiri stayed away for so long. Because here, I can protect them. We have reason to believe there is little time remaining before he returns to these shores. We want to engineer a way to keep you safe, one that does not involve having to stay here. We live...differently. No electricity. It is not something you would tolerate well, I would guess. But there are ways to hide you in the world outside of here, and no one has to afford anything. This is on account of us, and I will gladly pay whatever is needed to see you and your family safe. There is every reason to believe that if you remain, what happened to Earlene's friend in New York will happen to you as well. We could not sit by and leave you to that outcome."

Mairead didn't go grey - this time she went green. Her husband, her children...she'd yank the eldest two out of uni, and take the youngest from school. As much as she wanted to dismiss this, she couldn't - she couldn't afford to - but there were so many considerations, so many things she'd have to work out before they went. Who would take care of the house? What in God's name was she to tell Anne - what was Kevin to tell his boss?

Big Jamie, thoroughly shaken, looked at Thranduil. "I can understand why he'd go after Mairead, being Lorna's sister and all," he said, "but why me? I'm no kin to her."

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek, so hard she drew blood. "He knows what you are to me," she said. "He can read minds, and apparently he turned up at the cottage a few months ago and dug through mine. Evidently I shot him, at least," she added, looking at Mairead. "Didn't do any _good_ , mind you, but y'know, gold star for effort. He'd go after you, Jamie, just as sure as he would Mairead." _That's all they need to know_ , she said to Thranduil.

"You _shot_ him," Mairead said, eyebrows climbing. "How do you know that, if you don't remember?"

Oh, _shit._ She hadn't planned on letting this one out, but there was really no way around it. "Thranduil can read minds," she said. "This arsehole, Von Ratched, he made me forget, but Thranduil found it."

Mairead's eyes widened yet further. "He reads _minds_ …." Out of absolutely nowhere, she burst out laughing, though there was an edge of something akin to hysteria to it. "He reads minds and he's been around Siobhan. I am so, so sorry."

Thranduil blushed a little pink and he cleared his throat. "I will tell you the same that everyone else in this room already knows. I have no choice in this; I cannot _not_ hear humans near to me. But I do not reveal what I cannot help knowing. To anyone, unless I have very specific consent to do so. That being said, I thank you for your sentiments, because...that was...yes."

Was he...was he _blushing_? He _was_. Oh, how Lorna wished she had her mobile handy.

Mairead looked at her. "I have no idea how you haven't murdered that one, if you can't help but read her mind," she said. "So...where would we go? How long would we be away?"

He shook his head sadly. "This is the bad part. I cannot say how long. The last time he came, he lingered outside the borders for weeks. An unsuccessful attack on my wife and the injuries he sustained are why we believe he left and returned to America. He will return, though we cannot say when. Beyond that he means to ruin us and those we care for, we know little. As for where you would go...Lorna has a friend, Orla, capable of hiding you electronically. I would envision someplace comfortable, and remote. Earlene tells me that there is something called Witness Protection. It would be like that. You would go to where your needs would be cared for, under different names. Your food, housing, teachers for your children...it does not matter to me; I will pay for whatever is necessary. Your contact with the outside world would be through protected electronic means only. It would be best that none of us knew where you went." He sighed. "You would be welcome, to dwell with us. But I do not believe you would be happy."

"I was thinking somewhere in southern France, but it could be anywhere," Lorna said. "Get a villa big enough for the lot'v you and you can just grow grapes and make wine, or...something like that. You'd be safe away until this was over."

"Jesus, what I am I going to do about the pub?" Jamie asked, half to himself. "What'll I tell everyone? It'd be bad enough either Mairead or me taking our families and heading off into nowhere, but both'v us at once? Michael can't look after the pub on his own, but I could get him some help. Otherwise, though…"

"Meningitis," Ratiri said, speaking through steepled hands. "Bacterial meningitis. Should one child from each family "contract" it, recovery is difficult and long, even if it's spotted early, and of course it's contagious. I'd have to lie like a rug to the health advisory and to Indira, but spontaneous cases aren't unheard-of. There doesn't have to be a general outbreak. Orla can fudge hospital records as needed, and you've all got an excuse. Not a thoroughly tidy one, granted, but better than nothing at all. That way, if Von Ratched does return to the village, nobody will know a thing about your disappearance save "sickness"."

"Would that work?" Mairead asked.

"With Orla, it just might," Lorna said. "She really _can_ fudge records. If they get taken to some hospital in France, who's to know the difference? There's a paper trail that can be followed, and disappear into bureaucracy."

"That may be the most elegant solution, however much I hate to see you risk your professional reputation, Ratiri. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say," Earlene frowned.

"I can't think of a worthier cause," he said, a touch grimly. "I don't care if I lose my license, if it keeps them alive."

Lorna took his hand, gently squeezing it. That meant one hell of a lot, coming from him. "When this is over, we'll tell you," she said. "You can come home then, and sooner or later I'll've popped these kids out, so, y'know, babies." Mairead and Jamie both _adored_ babies; she was less likely to get shouted at for doing something stupid if she could stick a baby in each of their arms.

Mairead rubbed her forehead. "Only you, Lorna," she said, shaking her head. "You just _had_ to go and find elves, didn't you?"

"It's not like I did it on _purpose_ ," Lorna protested. "They were here, Earlene was here. I met Earlene, I met them. It's not like I went UFO hunting and...and tripped over them or something."

"I'm afraid the blame is mine," said Earlene. "On all counts. I've been the conduit for all of this mess, and yet there was no way I could have ever known it would turn into...this." Her voice became very strained on the last word. She was trying very, very hard to remember Thanadir's counsel, but it didn't make the emotional realities of what had happened just vanish into the ether, either.

Lorna leaned forward in her chair. "Earlene," she said seriously, "look at me. The only person to blame in all'v this is Von Fuckface. That's it. This - none'v this is your fault, you hear me? _None_ 'v it." It was rare that she spoke with such conviction, something bordering on stern - rather like her Gran had done to her, when she'd been blaming herself for Liam's death.

Earlene snorted. "I know. And you are not the first person to have said as much to me today. I just want this to be over, as do we all," she said, glad that she had somehow managed to not say a number of things to Lorna that she might have regretted substantially. With a sigh she rose to get some water to drink. That Thanadir was near the sink might also have been a factor…his arm came around her, as he spoke to her very quietly at a volume no one else could hear.

Jamie, pensive, looked at Thranduil. "You've said we might not want to live with you," he said, "but not where you live, exactly. If we've got to get uprooted, shouldn't we have a chance to choose, before we get sent all to hell and gone?"

Thranduil smiled weakly. "Yes. I will be blunt. You cannot speak of what you will see; I must be able to trust you in this. It would go badly for us, were we discovered to the world at large. We have dwelled here for thousands of years, remaining inside the borders of our forest, guarding the people of the nearby village in what ways we were able." He looked meaningfully at both Mairead and Jamie, and was satisfied with their nods of assent. "There are a little over two hundred elves, that dwell in my Halls. We remained when the others of our kind elected to...go elsewhere. And, I think Lorna can explain to you that I am different, than what you have been used to. But you must be told that I am the Elvenking, and that you stand inside of my Realm. What you are not seeing is our home, and if you wish to, you must walk with us. It lies in the woods."

"He means it, you two," Lorna sad seriously. "You can't tell anyone. Not Kevin, not Orla - nobody."

Neither precisely liked lying to their spouses, but extreme times, and all that. "Elvenking?" Mairead asked. "Elven _king_?" There wasn't any distaste or derision in it - just shock. "Lorna, you do find them." She rose, and looked at Jamie. "Let's see what we've got going on here. I promise I'll not tell."

"Me too," Jamie said, rising as well.

They all departed, with Earlene gladly taking Thanadir's arm. _You need only tell me, if you cannot walk the distance, Lorna. It does no good to wait until you are ready to topple over,_ Thranduil emphasized. He was in no mood to have Fun With the Gates, this time. He led them through, and at the halfway point, wordlessly lifted Lorna into his arms before continuing on. When they crossed the stone bridge, Earlene mildly wondered what the new ones were seeing, until she saw a wave of her husband's hand and heard gasps from Mairead and Jamie. The Gate, as always with him, opened seemingly of its own accord. He spoke to them as they approached the massive portals. "Your eyes will need time to adjust, once inside. We will wait."

How in the name of mother fuck he'd managed to haul her sister so far, Mairead didn't know; yeah, Lorna was little, but she was also rather pregnant. She blinked in the dimness, and as soon as her vision cleared, her breath caught.

"Sweet granny on a bike on Sunday," Jamie said behind her. This... _this_ was in Ireland? How had nobody found it? This ancient forest should've been crawling with tourists, since it was the last like it left.

"I know," Ratiri said. "I don't know if you've ever read _The Hobbit_ or _The Lord of the Rings_ , but they're both required reading in the future. These people, they're _those_ Elves. The very last of them who've stayed in this world. The forest and the Halls are protected by Thranduil's magic - nobody's found them because nobody really notices, and anyone who comes into the forest unescorted gets hopelessly lost."

Mairead stared, rather helplessly. This was a bit much - she wasn't the sort of person who had ever been into fantasy, though come to think of it, the kids had actually seen the _Lord of the Rings_ films when they were young. Mairead hadn't paid a great deal of attention, and yet...damn. Just... _damn_.

"And the one evil gobshite left in the world found the last'v the elves," Jamie said, shaking his head. "Makes you bloody wonder. You two, this is where you've been staying, all this time you've been gone?"

"It is," Lorna said. "We've got flats and everything, but the only power comes from solar panels and a car battery I rigged up. All the books in the library are in Sindarin, which is an insane language that makes Irish look easy, so it's not exactly easy reading. The kids'd go spare inside'v a week."

Mairead eyed her suspiciously - specifically, her braid. "You've been getting your hair products here, haven't you?" she demanded. "I _knew_ it wasn't just some old recipe'v Gran's."

Lorna shook her head. "Mairead, you and your priorities. _Anyway_."

Earlene chuckled, thoroughly amused. "I like you, Mairead. None of this has been very funny lately, but, life with elves generates a certain kind of absurdity." She shook her head. "C'mon. I can show you a little bit of it before my feet tell me to go to hell. Most of the caverns are dedicated to living space for elves that no longer live here. The rest is what you'd expect to keep a large number supplied with the necessities of life. It's like a small city that's now run by a skeleton crew."

That...was a bit tragic, really, Mairead thought. Such a huge space, with so few...why would anyone leave this? "Happy to help," she said, shaking her head. "I'd love to see some, but not if your feet're going to go and swell up like balloons. I remember what hell that was."

"Why in fuck did you voluntarily do this more than once?" Lorna asked. "I mean yeah, I've got two in one oven, but still. I'd think it'd suck even if it was just one."

"The reward's worth it," Mairead said. "Right up until they learn the word 'no', anyway."

Earlene burst into laughter. "They can argue that with their uncle Thanadir. These poor kids don't know what they're in for. Oh, and that...Thanadir is Thranduil's seneschal. I guess you could say 'second in command.' And my feet will be fine for awhile. I took a pretty long walk around here this morning, that went okay."

Mairead looked at Lorna. "So when you said he's too old for Niamh, you really meant it, didn't you?"

Lorna choked on a laugh. "You've got _no_ idea. They actually don't properly remember how old they are, but at a guess it's something like eighteen thousand."

Jamie tripped over his own feet. "He _what_?"

"Eighteen thousand," she said, "or thereabouts. Didn't anyone mention they live forever?"

"Um, no," he said, shaking his head. "Jesus. _Older_ than Jesus."

"Way older," Mairead muttered.

They walked through the kitchens, storerooms, the dining Hall, the armory. Earlene mentioned that there were myriad rooms for doing specialized tasks like iron or wood work, and that the Halls were much like a rabbit warren. Turning, twisting tunnels all over the place, with what seemed like a thousand doors, but that sooner or later most passages emptied out into this grand and beautiful central cavern that was Thranduil's Hall, with his throne, with the sound of falling water still moving through the depths below. Lorna took over leading the way now, wanting them to see how she lived here.

"Ratiri and I each had our own, but, well, we share one now," she said, pushing her door open.

"Obviously," Mairead snorted.

"Hush, you." Lorna lit the lamps, their cosy glow cast over the little sitting room. She'd added some oddments to it, in addition to all the things she'd brought from her cottage; bundles of dried flowers hung upside-down from hooks on the ceiling, scenting the room with sage and lilac. It was still fairly warm, the fire having only recently burnt down, and she knelt as best she could to add more wood to it.

"Here's the thing," she said. "It's gorgeous here. I mean, bloody beautiful, but just how long could you and your families last without wifi? You two aren't like me - you didn't grow up without electricity. Your kids'd go spare, especially Kevin and Aislinn. Once we're in here, we're _in_ here, too; there might well not even be any going outside."

Mairead ran her hand along the back of the sofa, feeling the texture of the fabric. _She_ would love it here, but her children? They were the products of the twenty-first century, for all she'd tried to keep them away from too many videogames. Depriving them of their phones might result in legitimate withdrawal, and no matter how many books they brought, if they were in here any appreciable amount of time….

"I don't know that I'd be able to handle not seeing the sky," Jamie said. "I mean, goddamn it's gorgeous, but I don't know how I'd find it if it came to not be able to leave. And as sad as I am to say this, my middle daughter'd crack without electricity. I'd say it'd be good for her, but not under these circumstances." He looked around - at the mantle, lined with knick knacks from her gran's, the modern world meeting this ancient one in a cheerful jumble. "If it was just me, I'd love to stay, but it's not. And I'll not inflict my children on you when they're grizzling about something."

"I won't inflict Niamh on Thanadir," Mairead muttered. "Even I'm not _that_ mean."

"He would manage better than she would," smirked Earlene. "He is far more than he appears on the surface, and she might not like him so much as soon as she had to learn something from him. He is a holy terror as an instructor. But anyway. I know how you both feel. We've sort of worked out a hodgepodge system for having at least a little of our electronics. And it is possible to go outside and into the forest, but not alone. While the security is good, any of us in the forest would have to be guarded by one or more elves. Our protection from Von Ratched is only absolute inside of these Halls. So as you've already noted, it is pretty necessary to be able to keep happy with the lifestyle of, oh, a hundred and fifty years ago." Fairly suddenly, she could feel her feet becoming unhappy. "I've really got to put my feet up a bit. Our rooms are not far from here, you're welcome to come see them too if you'd like. But at either rate, please excuse me for awhile." She turned, feeling awkward to leave them, but, _feet._

Lorna had a feeling neither elf would be keen to carry her back to the cottage just yet, and Mairead and Big Jamie ought to see a bit more, if they wanted to; given that this place was part of why they had to leg it elsewhere, they might as well understand why. "We'll at least stick our heads in, if you don't mind," Lorna said. "It's the other part'v these Halls we see most often."

"Please do," sort of carried back at them, already from some feet out the door. _When did I become this rude?_ Earlene asked herself, shaking her head even as sharp pains began telling her that her lower spine was officially pissed at her insistence on being a tour guide. And in seconds she found herself carried again.

"Earlene, you must learn to simply ask me. This is no effort for me at all, and it is not desirable for you to feel pain when carrying the children." Thanadir's soft brown eyes looked into her own from inches away.

Biting the inside of her cheeks, it took all her self-control not to fire back that _if someone didn't want Pain and Children in the same sentence, why didn't they goddamn all lay eggs and sit on them, like chickens did._ But that was not an option. Lashing out at Thanadir would not only solve nothing, it would be the height of ingratitude. _Or you could try *talking* to him,_ she reminded herself. "I will try to do as you ask," she agreed, forcing down her ire. "But you must understand some things too. This keeps changing, for me. It was not this bad until very recently. Even were I pregnant with a fully human child, Thanadir, I would be facing at least another three months like this. Or worse. That feels like a very long time, to a mortal. Too long to do nothing and be content to become a…" She could not say it, but the words would have been something along the lines of 'living incubator.'

It was not easy, but he tried to consider this from her point of view. His only frame of reference, however tenuous, was the month of punishment he had once endured, confined to his rooms. Unable to pass through those doors or see the sun and trees for four weeks, realizing all the while that his King could have required him to endure that duration in one of the cells. Forced to keep some semblance of normalcy when he would have preferred to remain catatonic on his sofa. Seen from this perspective, her fears and frustration at facing longer than three times that span of days suddenly did not seem so trivial.

"There is something I would like to talk to you about, Earlene, but not now. Later, when there is privacy. But I will tell you that I will do my best, to help you. You are my family. While I cannot carry your children, obviously, they are my family too. We will get through this together, one day at a time," he said softly.

It was not what she expected to hear. Another small lecture of some kind or another would have made more sense; this surprised her. And made her feel far better than any speeches about how she should feel or what she should do. She did not reply, but a happier face looked back at his by the time they reached the door, and a nice sofa with cushions awaited.

Oh, how Mairead wished she could have had someone who could carry her during her pregnancies. It would have saved her feet a great deal - but Earlene's still looked swollen, and there were a few tips for that.

Lorna and Ratiri had obviously been in here many times, given the ease with which they moved about, but Mairead could do nothing at first but stare. She'd thought Lorna's rooms fancy, but this...good grief. This was opulence on a level she'd never seen, in real life or in films.

"Bloody Christ," Jamie said from behind her - though he laughed a bit when he saw Lorna had to hop a bit to get up onto an armchair. Ratiri scooted in with her, pulling her onto his lap.

"Can I see your feet, Earlene?" Mairead asked. "I can give you a tip there - a couple times a day, lie with your feet up and a cold washcloth on each. Sounds daft, but trust me, it works. It'll keep your ankles down, too."

Lorna filed that bit of information away, knowing she'd want it later, too.

Thanadir's eyebrows raised, and he immediately rose from her side to procure said items, first placing pillows under her feet after elevating them.

"Thank you. I'd guess I'm about to give this a try," she smiled, at seeing Thanadir's reaction. "Well, we may not have electricity here, but as you can see we are not exactly being made to suffer. We are given a great deal of help that I'm well aware most don't have."

"It's fortunate you've not got to be on your feet all day every day," Mairead said, grimacing a little. "I worked right up until my due date with Shannon, because I was an eejit who thought I was Superwoman. With twins, you'll be wanting that help, come month eight. This might or might not help, but if you lean back a touch when you walk, it might fix your center'v gravity a bit and save your spine. My eldest son, Kevin, was over ten pounds when he was born, and my doctor told me to give that a go."

"I'd probably fall over if I tried _that_ ," Lorna snorted. Unlike Earlene, she was no athlete.

Mairead eyed her. " _You'll_ need to be dragged about on a skateboard," she said. "Two, if you can glue them together."

"Funny, that's just what I thought," Lorna said.

Earlene laughed. "Leaning back is why my spine feels this way. Everything really was fine up until just this week. The reality is, I'm just going to have to start admitting that I can't do what I used to until this is over with. I would guess that while Lorna and I are very different people, we share a certain, ah, spirit of independence that makes this seem rather difficult….said every woman since the dawn of time. I know this isn't anything unique, but it's new for me," she said quietly. "I'll just have to adjust."

"Twins're always a bit more difficult," Mairead said sympathetically. "And just because every other woman's said it doesn't mean it's not bloody annoying. It's worth it, come the finish. If it wasn't, I wouldn't've done it four times."

"I don't know why you did it four times anyway," Lorna said. "I don't know why Mam did it five. I'm glad I've got two for one, because _I'm_ not doing it again."

"Just be glad you've got magical healing on hand," Mairead said. "You're Gran's size, and she dislocated her hips by month eight with all three'v her kids. Bed rest, the whole time."

Lorna stared at her in blatant horror. " _No_ ," she said, even more grateful Thranduil could heal just about anything.

"Unfortunately, yes. And she only ever had one at a time. At least you won't be able to cause much trouble then," Mairead said, eying her pointedly. "And you know how to knit."

"I think the pair'v us'll be doing a load'v that," Lorna said, looking at Earlene. "We'll have enough baby booties for an army."

"You can never have too many," Mairead said sagely. "They're worse than socks for getting lost. Earlene, are you having boys or girls, or one'v each?"

"They are girls. Identical, I am told," she smiled. "I admit, I wonder what they will look like; Thranduil and I could not have more different coloring. In my family, I am the proverbial black sheep. Most of them are like Allanah, so...who only knows."

"Might wind up a combination'v the two," Mairead said. "Be interesting to see, that's for sure. If Lorna's don't wind up doppelgangers'v her, I'll be very surprised. Her da's genes were strong - all four'v them look like her, but our mam looked like me. No idea where the eyes came from, though." Secretly, she rather hoped Earlene's didn't inherit their father's. His were...um, distinctive, and they didn't need to be standing out _too_ much.

Thranduil heard all sides of this discussion and wisely kept silent, though he smiled pleasantly. It was not occurring to Earlene that he could answer all of these questions. Yet. And until that happened, it was best not to comment. There were times when he was vaguely thankful, for the effect her pregnancy occasionally had on her usually honed capacity for deduction.

Earlene smiled too, but for a different reason. On account of Thranduil, they all knew who was having what, but it was most definitely not her place to offer that information.

Jamie looked at Mairead. It had to be getting late, unfortunately. Neither wanted to deal with the harsh realities of what awaited them back home, but they had to be dealt with nonetheless. "As much as I don't want to say this, I think we'd best head back," he sighed. "I'll work out what to tell Orla on the way."

"I'll hash out the details with my Orla," Lorna said. "How does southern France sound? Some isolated place big enough for both families?"

"If we've got to go, it might as well be somewhere nice," Mairead said. "Kevin took French at school. We could handle that there."

"Good. I'll see what can be done." She levered herself off Ratiri's lap with a slight wince. If her back was this sore now, she didn't want to know what it would be like in another three months; thank bloody God for her built-in hot springs in her flat.

"I think I'll not be going with you back to the cottage," Earlene apologized. "But I really do thank you for coming out and not on account of what we've had to discuss. My friend John had meant the world to me and...I know what kind of person he was. It'd mean something to him, to know that in any manner he was helping others." She gave Mairead and Jamie awkward hugs as best she could with her belly. "I hope we get to socialize again under better circumstances." With a squeeze to their hands, she lowered herself awkwardly back onto the sofa. Thranduil smiled at her encouragingly, saying something only she could hear, before lifting Lorna into his arms again. Earlene and her friend exchanged weak smiles and waves as they departed that amounted to, 'Land Whale.'

Unsurprisingly, Jamie and Mairead sobered as they left, and Ratiri beckoned them both closer, concocting a plausible cover story, including the basic symptoms of bacterial meningitis. Orla and Kevin would need to be told that it was a thoroughly mundane witness protection scheme - very necessary, but only because Earlene's friend had been murdered, and that, as Lorna's friends and family, they risked being targeted. Nothing supernatural need be mentioned. They were distracted enough that Lorna looked at Thranduil.

 _Thranduil, why was what I did wrong?_ she asked. It wasn't a sarcastic question; she genuinely didn't get it. _I know those two. We'd've sat there arguing it until we were blue in the face. They never would've gone to the Halls with us - not without some kind of proof. I believed in what you were because I saw your healing ability. I knew they would, too._ To her mind, her logic was perfectly sound, but nobody else seem to think so, and she was legitimately baffled as to why. It needed doing, so she did it. Why was that wrong? What was she missing? There was no actual harm done. Mairead and Big Jamie believed. Wasn't that what mattered?

Thranduil brought his attention out of what was being discussed between Ratiri and the others to focus on Lorna, blinking as he tried to fathom what could possibly have been unclear about it...only to see that she truly did not understand.

 _Lorna, it is two things. Everything about your pregnancy is more difficult, higher risk than what Earlene faces. You have, I think, been told this. While it warms my heart to know of your faith in me, it is not right to presume on my ability. It is not right to place your children under any risk, on the grounds that I can make it right. You are using me, to do such a thing without my consent. The second matter is that you did not even consider the children inside of you, before you acted to harm yourself. You were simply being Lorna, by yourself. You were thinking of others, but acting as if you were only accountable for your own life at this point in time. Do you not think that I or Thanadir could have cut ourselves, instead of you, if that was what was needed to gain their belief? Or that I could not do other things that did not involve knives in order to demonstrate my power? You acted impulsively and on your own. That is why I was angry. I am not angry now, Lorna. I am not perfect nor do I claim to be. I see how hard you have tried, and how much you have grown. But you asked and I am giving you the most honest answer I am able._

Lorna turned this over in her mind. That she was using him had not at all occurred to her, though now that he'd laid it out, she had no idea why it hadn't. It _should_ have, but… _I'm bad at this_ , she said, sighing. _I did what I thought I had to, because that's what I've always done, because until so recently, everything was...contained. It was…_ She didn't know how to explain it, even to herself; even with her family and friends, she'd been ultimately her own and no one else's. _It seems like all I ever do is fuck up, every time I try to do something on my own, and I don't see it until it's too late. And I don't know how to fix it._ Short of having her brain totally re-organized, she didn't know if it was even possible. She was better than she had been, yes, but she'd been so bad to start with that that wasn't saying a great deal. As much as she loved her newfound family, things had been so much easier to manage when she was on her own. She hadn't worried about failure, when she was alone, because if she did fuck up, it didn't hurt anyone but her. Caring about people was a double-edged sword, not helped by the fact that she'd in a sense isolated herself for the better part of ten years. She had friends and family in Baile that she loved dearly, but they weren't _close_ like this. _I didn't think I was a failure until I had people in my life to fail._

He chuckled softly. _You are experiencing what I have, what Thanadir has, what Earlene has. Each in our own ways, although I am not free to discuss anyone's experience but my own with you. It is part of growing, Lorna. You are not bad at this so much as new at this. You are not a failure. We have all failed, Lorna. We have all made terrible mistakes out of fear or ignorance or simply doing what worked for us before. In this, you are not alone. Do not let yourself be weighed down, it is not worth it. But if you can, in the future, try to include those around you. Ask for collaboration. I learned long ago that if we could simply communicate before we decide, many errors could be avoided. But it is so easy to say, and so hard to do._ He kissed her firmly on the cheek, looking straight ahead as he walked on.

Almost against her will, she smiled. _New at this at forty years old_ , she said, a little wryly. _I know that doesn't seem like much time at all to you, but to a human, that's just wrong. I'll try. I'll probably keep failing half the time, but I'll try. And someday I'll tell you how I got stabbed in the foot._ Totally _not my fault, I might add._

Ratiri knew them both well enough by now to realize they were having some silent conversation, so he finished up the cover story with Mairead and Big Jamie. It was flimsy, but with Orla to back it up...if all else failed, if he absolutely _had_ to, he'd tell Indira of the 'witness protection' excuse, but he'd rather avoid it, if at all possible. The fewer people knew about this, the better, especially if Von Assclown decided to pay the village a visit. If there was nothing at all to find but the meningitis excuse, he might not realize right off that it wasn't legit - but if he saw anything in Indira's mind, the game would be up on that end.

"Is Lorna even awake?" Mairead asked. "She's awfully quiet. Are you going to have to drive us home?"

Ratiri debated lying. "Telepathic conversation, probably," he said. "That happens a fair bit around here. You get used to it."

Mairead had no idea how. She found the idea of spending large amounts of time around someone who couldn't help but read your mind to be highly disconcerting, just...because. Still, she wondered, just how did this work? She had to test it, or she'd always wonder, and she knew her sister well enough that one question itched in her mind: _Why does she let you touch her? It took close to a year for Jamie and I to even get hugs._ Ratiri, now, Ratiri she could understand, because any heterosexual, red-blooded woman would want to tap that, but that was an entirely different kind of contact.

 _You would have to ask her that, for I am not free to discuss it without her explicit consent,_ the answer flared into her mind in his voice. Which she was hearing, but not hearing, God if that wasn't the weirdest thing ever. _But an answer I could give is that we are friends._ He met her backward glance with a smile, and mirth from his ethereally blue eyes.

She very nearly stumbled, so shocked by the sheer oddness of it. Ooookay, now she knew what _that_ was like. _I'm calling you the Lorna Whisperer,_ she said. _I get the contact thing with Ratiri, she wanted in his trousers, but you got her trust somehow in so short a time. I'm not sure, even with your telepathy, you realize just what a feat that is._ Lorna was much like a hedgehog; a softy on the inside, sure, but you had to get past all those spikes first.

"All right, you lot," Lorna said, yawning. Emotional shite sure did drain her lately, possibly now because she had two cantaloupes residing in her gut. "Ratiri, I know I said nobody drives my van but me, but I'm making an exception."

Ratiri laughed. "Take a nap," he said, taking her from Thranduil and setting her in the passenger seat. He absolutely was not going to say loud that it was like carrying a doll, but he was pretty sure Thranduil would agree.

"I wish we'd met under better circumstances," Jamie said, "but I'm glad for the warning. Look after these two while we're away, would you? Ratiri's got his head on straight, but Lorna's...Lorna."

 _Lorna Whisperer_ , Mairead thought, and in spite of everything, she fought a smile. "We'll get everything ready, for when we've got to go, though Christ knows how much we'll be able to bring."

"He's not going to trash your house while we're away," Lorna called, though in truth she wasn't so sure about that.

Earlene watched her friends depart, rubbing absentmindedly at her abdomen. She had grown so accustomed to wearing the expected elven dresses that it was becoming hard to remember when she'd last worn leggings. _Probably right after I started swelling enough to wreck the spandex, were I to have kept wearing them,_ she thought ruefully. Mairead had been right, the washcloths had helped, and what was continuing to help were Thanadir's skilled hands on her calves, feet and ankles. How much misery he'd taken away with these frequent attentions, she could not begin to reckon. They often ran out of things to discuss, and would sit in silence as they were doing now. She appreciated that he was not a being who wanted or needed constant chatter. He knew how to be around someone else, content to simply...be. As did she. But this time he was the one to break the quiet.

"I said there was something I wanted to tell you, and we are alone now. This is not so easy to say, but I will do my best."

Her brows knitted faintly; this was not like him. _Please don't let this be weird,_ flitted through her mind. Aloud she said encouragingly, "I am listening, meldir. Take your time."

He smiled, hesitating, then began. And indeed, some of the words were halting. "I told you that I too was jailed once. But there was more. That was not my entire punishment; what I had done was very bad in the King's eyes." The words were quiet, and mostly he looked down as he spoke, or at her feet that were in his lap. He told her of his month in his rooms. All of what had happened, all of what he had felt, and then grew silent again for a time.

It felt like he wanted an answer. Earlene felt heartbroken, to hear this, because it was what she had feared, for him. He had been placed in a situation beyond his limitations, had succumbed in a manner that was too predictable, and had paid a heavy price in loneliness, fear, and doubt. "I am so sorry, Thanadir. I would have given much, to have been there for you. To have helped you." The words sounded vaguely pathetic, but they were true. What she felt she could not say is that she understood perfectly well how it had all gone to hell in a handbasket for him, and it was no one's fault. They had had no way of knowing.

Whether he was in her thoughts or simply perceiving accurately the play of expressions across her face, the result was the same. "That is more what I actually wanted to talk to you about, Earlene. I know you did not mean for me to learn this from you, but I did. I learned about Asperger's, and I learned about those who have...emotional intelligence. I read everything I could, and I feel that you are right."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh meldir, I did not mean...I did not want...I never meant for anything to hurt you." _Oh hell well haven't I gone and fucked this up one side and down the other._ And far away, at the cottage, Thranduil's attention was drawn from having said good-bye and checking that the room was left half-tidy to a conversation occurring in his Halls that left him aghast. He left immediately, running through the forest.

"No, Earlene," he said, shaking his head at the stricken look on her face. "It is not what you think. I know that you never would have spoken to me about this, and I understand why. For the humans who are like this...many are treated very badly. Made to feel as though there is something wrong with them. But you made sure I would not think this. At least, not on account of you."

"I did?" Her stomach was in a knot and now she was baffled. Memory was no longer so sharp, and she could not piece together what he had seen in her mind, or when, or any of it. "I do not want to interrupt you, Thanadir, but you have me at a tremendous disadvantage. I cannot recall what you might have seen in my thoughts, or when, or...anything. I can only tell you that I would never have wanted to cause you pain."

"Please do not worry, this is what I am trying to tell you," he said with a little more insistence. "It is the best thing that ever happened to me, Earlene. I have lived for a very long time, not able to understand myself. Not able to make sense of why I would say and do and feel certain things. I have never met another elf like me. Never _heard_ of another elf like me. And I had no reason to think more about that, except when I would so badly disappoint my King." He looked up at her. "You cannot know what it means, to find that there is something that explains _me_. And when I saw your thoughts, you did not dislike me or think that I was broken in some way. You wished you could be like me, though you felt sorry for what you knew I had endured when things went badly. That perspective is what colored my thoughts when I began reading. You are very kind, Earlene, and I am very fortunate to know you. I wanted to...tell you, because I feel better now, for having learned. Happier. And I owe that to you."

While it was not making a very good showing on her part, she could do no more than look at him with her lips parted in astonishment. "The part of me that is not speechless would say that you are welcome. But most of me _is_ speechless." She smiled weakly. "I guess this is what I get, for having decided that you should not hear about this from me. Perhaps I had no right to make that choice, to deny you information about yourself. I did not know what to do, what was right. Only your happiness mattered to me, and if you have found it in greater measure on account of my mortal foolishness, then I too will be happy."

The outer door wrenched open, as Thranduil stormed into the room, coming to a halt near them. For a moment, they all stared at each other, trying to understand. Earlene could see that he'd hurried back and his agitation, but had no concept as to why. It was obvious that he had heard their conversation as he heard most everything, but why would what was said here cause him to appear so….what even _was_ that look? Being flustered? Worry? Regret? She was at a loss, as she saw his shoulders sag. And Thanadir appeared to be just as confused. "My King?" he asked, not knowing what was the matter.

Thranduil knelt before Thanadir, further increasing the elf's bewilderment. "I must add to this discussion, though I never believed I would. When we went to stay at the sea-side, Ratiri spoke to me, having made many of the same observations as Earlene. And as I listened, meldir, I realized how badly I have failed you. What you have endured because of my ignorance, and my judgements. I told you that your mistakes were a blight, and I would give anything not to have said those words. I too did not understand, Thanadir, but I do now. I meant never to speak to you, and only ensure that you were protected from future situations that could cause you difficulty, while doing all I could to let you understand that you are loved, and cherished. And now I see I was wrong even in this. Please forgive me. I would never have survived, without you. And while I did what I felt was right at the time, I must now live with the knowledge of how cruelly I treated you."

Thanadir rose up, his cheeks coloring. This was entirely too much. "This is not what I want!" he said, his voice almost angry. "I am not a...glass container, that will fall on the floor and shatter." And just as quickly he sat down again, vaguely horrified that he had all but shouted at his King. "I am sorry," he said, fear and sadness coming over him.

"Both of you. Stop it. Right now." Earlene's voice cut through both of them like a knife. "Thranduil, sit next to him". She glared at them. "Now, please," was added when he did not appear to be moving quickly enough to suit her. "What you are both trying to say is that you each love the other, and that you regret what happened in the past. But now we all know more than we did before, and will all work to take better care of the other. That is all there is. We will move forward. No needless guilt, no feeling shame for what was beyond anyone's control. Give each other a big hug, while we all thank the Valar that we are blessed enough to have such love in our lives." _While I wonder how it is I can possibly speak more inappropriately or impulsively than I have just done, however noble the cause_ she thought, biting her lip. This was obviously relayed silently to the seneschal, because both ellyn burst into laughter. They hugged each other, with her sandwiched in the middle once they had shifted her around as though she had the weight of a ball of yarn. She tried to pretend she was grumpy, but was convincing no one, and in the end laughed too. "I love you both, more than I can say."

"I will bring tea," said Thanadir, his merriment heard all the way to the door.

Mairead and Big Jamie spent the ride back to Baile wondering just how the hell they were to put this to their respective spouses. Neither Kevin nor Orla were stupid; they'd want answers, details. This was going to require a bit of outright lying, which would not be pleasant, or easy - and they were lies that would have to last forever. There would be no disclosure after the fact, and _that_ was hard.

The children would probably find it exciting; even Shannon wouldn't mind missing time at uni to spend a while lazing about in southern France. The'd have all the amenities they'd be lacking in the Halls - though quite honestly, both Mairead and Jamie wouldn't have minded staying there, if it were just them.

Orla and Kevin, though...what a nightmare this would be, if only a private one. That was a heavy secret to keep from one's spouse, especially when one had to keep it forever.

Ratiri dropped them both off at their respective homes, then drove out to the cottage. This was possibly the last night they'd stay here for months, though hopefully it wouldn't stretch on longer than a year. He couldn't even imagine what they'd do if it did.

Lorna roused herself when he parked, yawning and stretching. Her back cracked like a line of firecrackers.

"Lovely," he said, helping her out. He poked up the fire in the stove while she put the kettle on, looking troubled.

"What is it, mo chroí?" he asked, drawing her to the sofa.

"Sometimes I feel like I fail at...adulting," she sighed, curling up beside him. "Seems like half the things I do are wrong, and I don't see it coming until I've already done it."

"You mean your hand?" he asked, taking it in his.

"Not just that," she said, "though that's part'v it. My logic makes sense to me, but not to anyone else, and Christ am I good at putting my foot in it." Without even saying a word aloud, either. "For all I can be good at reading people, I sure as hell don't understand them, and then I go and hurt them _because_ I don't understand." There were times, and they were growing ever more frequent, that she wondered darkly if she hadn't been better off alone. You couldn't hurt people through your own ignorance if you didn't let them close enough to begin with.

Mairead and Big Jamie had always accepted her as she was. Conversation with them wasn't a potential emotional minefield, as it seemed to be with Earlene and the Elves (still a good band name, dammit). She knew Ratiri thought some of her ideas and traits to be odd, but he didn't hold them against her, and she'd have known if any of them hurt him. Ratiri was an open book to her, direct and without pretense; she knew him, knew what he liked and disliked, what he did and did not appreciate. There was much they didn't have in common, but surprisingly quite a bit that they did, for all their lives had been so different.

But with Earlene and the Elves...lately, it seemed like everything she did was wrong. She had no idea how to fix it, either, because every time she thought she had, she went and screwed something else up. It was...exhausting, and Lorna didn't know what to do. There had to be _something_ , though, given they were all going to be in the same place for God knew how long.

"You're trying, Lorna," Ratiri said, coiling her hair around his fingers. "Don't beat yourself up. You started out at more of a disadvantage than you likely realize."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm still fucking up now," Lorna said. At least she was cognizant enough to realize that this was partly hormonal - she never got maudlin like this under normal circumstances, but her damn body was betraying her. "And we'll be back there, and that son'v a bitch might come do _anything_ to this cottage, and…"

Her eyes fell shut, and she fell silent. She'd spoken very little of Von Ratched to Ratiri thus far, mainly because she had no words for it herself. Talking with Thranduil had helped her, yeah, but nothing was going to fix it all right off. This was a minefield, too. Lorna didn't want people worried about her when there was so much else going on, when they didn't have the time for it, but if she kept it to herself, people got pissed at her. Which was it? Could she win at all? This was her god damn best attempt to make the lives of those she cared about easier, and all her efforts wound up doing were causing pain. She didn't want to hurt the people she cared about - didn't want to be a burden, too ignorant, too limited, to understand those around her.

Maybe it would be better for all concerned if she'd never met them. She loved them dearly, and was fairly sure she was doing nothing at all to help right now.

"Lorna, you know this is your hormones," Ratiri said gently.

"Doesn't make it suck any less. Christ knows I'll just get worse anyway." She was already edging into the 'weird cravings' end of things. "I wish…" No, she couldn't wish that. She wouldn't even think of it.

"You wish what?" he asked, still stroking her hair.

"I wish we could go to France, too," she sighed, resting her forehead against the crook of his shoulder. "I know we can't - pregnancy and all that - but I don't hurt Mairead and Jamie. I don't fuck up around them. I don't look at them and see that tiny flicker of _pain_ and know it's my fault it's there."

"Lorna, people hurt one another, all the time," he said. "In a thousand ways, every day, because most of us can't read minds. It's part of life. You learn from the hurts you deal, and the hurts you receive, and you move on. Mairead and Jamie didn't do you any favors, insulating and isolating you as they did. You're discovering at forty what most people go through at twenty."

She looked up at him. "You've never hurt me," she pointed out.

"Not yet, no, but give it time," he said. "I'll stick my foot in it sooner or later. Honestly, I'm rather shocked I haven't done it already."

Lorna smiled a little. "Done everything a bit late, haven't? Is it this hard when you're twenty?"

"Probably not quite," he said meditatively, "simply because at that point your entire peer group is going through the same thing. But it isn't easy no matter what your age. Lorna, I know what it is, to want to shut the world out because it's too complex, and can so easily cause you pain. I did it for fifteen years, and it's no way to live."

"I know it's not," she sighed. "I know it in my head, but right now I just...urgh."

"Right now your hormones are on a downswing," he said, kissing her temple and rising to get the screaming kettle off the burner. "You'll feel better once you've had some tea and a good sleep. But I'll give you this to chew on, mo chroí: when someone loves you, they accept that sooner or later you'll hurt them, and vice versa. I wish someone had taught you that years ago."

"But I did know," she said, "sort'v. Mairead and I, we've had our ups and downs...but she's my sister. That kind'v goes with the territory."

"And you call Thranduil your brother from another mother," Ratiri pointed out, putting some herbal tea to steep in the pot.

That actually made her laugh. "Yeah, but I don't know if he thinks'v me as a sister from another mister," she retorted. She sighed again, rubbing her abdomen. "Let me tell you, it'll be a lot easier to get a handle on all this when I've not got two cantaloupes in my gut. Not making anything easier, are you?" she asked of her stomach. "You'd better be cute, you hear me? Especially considering your Uncle Thranduil might have to deliver you, and that's just a whole other level'v weird I really don't need to be thinking about right now. Only guy I want seeing my snatch is your da."

Ratiri burst out laughing, carrying the tea things to the coffee table. "If it's at all possible, I'll endeavor to do that myself," he promised. "I'm not an obstetrician, but I know how it works."

"It would be appreciated," Lorna said, still rubbing her abdomen as she looked around the cottage. At least it was built to last; it could probably sit empty a decade and be none the worse for wear. Sooner or later Von Assclown would be dead, and they could come home and put up a second storey, and everything would be as it should be. Little Allanah could come to play when they were her and not at Earlene's, and have a chance to be around human children who would know nothing of her parentage.

"Our poor son," she said, shaking her head as she poured tea. "Surrounded by girls on all sides...I hope there are some lads in Lasg'len he can make friends with."

"I'm sure he'll live," Ratiri said, pouring his own tea and sitting beside her again. "Maybe Earlene will want more children, and have a son."

Lorna stared at him. "Are you kidding me? Look how miserable she is now. Unless she contracts selective amnesia, she probably won't want to repeat this any more than I do. Especially if she carries her kids a full year."

Ratiri grimaced. "All right, you've got a point. Either way, our son will survive." He paused. "Though I do hope he doesn't inherit your height."

Lorna eyed him. Unfortunately for him, he'd set his teacup down - unfortunately, because it meant she had no compunction about attacking his sides with her fingers, tickling away.

"If I piss on your couch, it's your fault," he said, trying desperately to speak around his laughter.

"Oh, you haven't had nearly _that_ much tea," she retorted, but had mercy. Leaning back, she sighed again. "Have we got everything? Everything we wouldn't want Von Arsewipe to get his icky hands on? As much as I'd love to take the furniture, it's just not practical."

"I think we're as ready as we can be," he said. "Drink your tea and let's go to bed."

"Bit early for that, isn't?" she asked.

Ratiri arched an eyebrow. "I said 'bed', mo chroí, not 'sleep'."

"In that case, let's chug."

In a concession to Earlene's seemingly insatiable curiosity, early on the morning of November 7th they were at the cottage, careful and alert. Thranduil and Thanadir had agreed that no mortal would be out of immediate sight of them, outside of the cottage, for any reason. There would be no more chances at the kind of mistake that could have cost Earlene her life, even though they had no reason to believe that Von Ratched was anywhere near. Earlene set the television onto one of the BBC channels that was reporting returns for the US Election; polls had closed in the western United States only one hour ago, at 4 am Ireland time.

"Really?" said Earlene, crestfallen. Though why, she couldn't say, because there was not going to be a pleasing result to this contest regardless. "Well, looks like the media couldn't have been more wrong this time." She'd kept out of the discussions, following the forecasts only to a minimal degree. The only certainty was that America had become spectacularly polarized, and would remain thus regardless of this outcome. They had tea, and Thranduil and Thanadir cooked a respectable breakfast under Earlene's tutelage from the chair. They would not allow her up for more than a few moments, but she had taught Thanadir one success: biscuits. She had shown him how to use the food processor to mix the dough and he had become very good at this method. Thranduil fried a rasher of bacon and made scrambled eggs. With that and some cheese, they had all the makings of breakfast sandwiches. And Earlene blushed at one point, because as long as she lived, she was not going to forget just how erotic one breakfast moment in here had been. Thranduil looked up from his cooking, smiling beatifically at her, though the gleam in his eye was somewhat less pure in nature.

"Well, fuck," she said with finality a few hours later. "The odds of this outcome changing are statistically nonexistent. So it's President…." She could not pronounce it aloud. With a sigh, she changed the television to Sean the Sheep. Her own ballot had come in the mail, and she had stared at it for weeks, finally casting her vote for Finwë, one-time High King. As Finwë was safe in Valinor, she decided it was a reasonable choice. And while she'd considered voting for Thranduil, she loved her husband too much to wish that mess on him. _Better one of the Noldor, who were far more accustomed to drastic upheaval._

"Were you like, the one sane American?" Lorna asked. "You left and the country lost its mind?" Apparently the old slogan was true: _anyone_ really could become President in America. She was really hoping this was some sort of sick joke, but she highly doubted it.

Ratiri shook his head, but said nothing. He kept more in touch with the political reality of Europe, owing mainly to his profession, and he didn't even want to _know_ what ripple effect this was going to have. The United States held a great deal of influence outside of its borders, but if this Cheeto in a bad toupee got elected, it was going to lose much of it. "Scotland roasted on him Twitter, you know," he said at last. "He passed through and made some ignorant comment about Brexit, and we skewered him." Brexit, admittedly, had been part of why Ratiri had left; yes, Scotland had voted to remain, but that might not help them much in the long run.

"Evidently not enough," Lorna snorted. "I wonder how long it'll take someone to assassinate him? I hear John Hinckley, Jr. got released from prison this year. Maybe this time he'll succeed." Morbid? Yes. Did she care? No.

Earlene interjected. "The thing is, Lorna, the country is becoming ungovernable in so many ways. It's never been perfect, but we're reaching a new place, about which many thinking persons are very unhappy. It isn't liberal versus conservative, or Democrat versus Republican...the issues run so much deeper. It would not have mattered who won. And I for one am glad that I am now elsewhere." She shook her head. "If we go back anywhere in the States again, it'll be only for a holiday. That lot've got to live with this mess. I can only envision the reverberations this will have on my field. There will be a new Supreme Court Justice nominated, and...no thanks."

"I wonder how many people will try to emigrate to Europe," Ratiri said. " _That_ might well turn...messy. If I was American and I had the means to do so, I wouldn't waste my time about it. Get out before Oompa Loompa can put his foot in his mouth so deep he shits out his own shoe."

Lorna looked at him and burst out laughing. "That was very Irish'v you," she said. "Let me guess, Big Jamie?"

"...Maybe," he said, looking faintly sheepish. "I'm rather glad we're in Ireland, all things considered - and I'm glad I got here before this horror show could get started. I think everyone's going to clamp down on immigration from all over, at least for a while, until we see what this lunatic has in store."

"If we're lucky, a heart attack," Lorna said. "Take a look at him."

"I know," Ratiri said. "Even underneath all the orange, that is not the complexion of a healthy man. I'll lay money he has a massive coronary within the first year, once he realizes the fun times are now over and he actually has to work."

Earlene privately thought that if that happened to the majority of Congress and the Cabinets, it might be off to a good start. Barring that, there was always another baboon to join the circus. Thanadir proudly announced breakfast, having been gone for a short time. He had returned with frothing, fresh milk from Buttercup, and made hot cocoa with it from scratch as a treat for all of them. "Meldir, I love you," Earlene said, savoring every drop of this gloriously chocolatey concoction that was heated to perfection. He smiled kindly, but she could tell he was very pleased with himself. Afterward, they watched some movies, enjoying the rare treat of being in the cottage. The sound of an engine stilled near the driveway, causing all of them to stop the film and look up. "I think that'd be the post," Earlene said. "It's about the right time."

"Has anyone ordered anything?" Lorna asked, while Thanadir went to fetch it. She and Ratiri had been getting various things off Amazon for the last few months, and it was easier to have it sent to here than Baile, where they might or might not be at any given time.

"Something addressed to both of you," Thanadir said - Earlene's hands were occupied, so he handed it to Lorna. It was a plain cardboard carton, with nothing but a shipping label and a customs stamp on it. No return address.

"Weird," she said, fishing a knife out of her handbag and cutting the packing tape. Inside it, nestled among packing peanuts, were two smaller boxes - one addressed to her, and the other to Earlene. Lorna passed Earlene's to Thanadir and opened hers, even more puzzled.

In it was a lovely hairbrush - it looked antique, and was so heavy she suspected it was backed with real silver, not some imitation. There was no note, however. "What in God's bloody name?" she said, turning it over, as though she might find some tiny clue as to who had sent it, or why.

Earlene looked at her box. "Can I borrow that knife?" she asked, taking it from an obliging and curious Thanadir. Whatever was inside was heavy, for its size. Her frown deepened when she saw that it was a gold pocket watch, the kind a man would have, on a long and presumably expensive fob. It appeared to be quite old, with elaborate engraving, and yet there were odd stains on it. She depressed the latch release and it sprang open. 'Jack Oehlert' was written in the gold. Incomprehension gave way to understanding and an instant clouding of her features with both revulsion and anger. She wanted to throw it through the window, but could not, for she knew what this was. Her hand closed around it and she turned to hold Thanadir and began sobbing. The baffled elf instinctively held her close.

Lorna looked at her, and at Thranduil, clueless and helpless. _What's she got? What's wrong?_

Earlene felt her hand being gently pried at. _Meluieg, please, give it to me?_ The object was released into his hand as he silently explained to the others. _This is John Oehlert's pocket watch. I see in Earlene's thoughts that it was something he carried with him always; it belonged to his grandfather, who earned it at the end of a life of very hard work after bringing his family to America. It was John's reminder of his family, on whose shoulders he believed he had climbed to achieve his own success. I do not think it needs explaining, whence this came._

Oh, _Jesus_...that just made the hairbrush all the more baffling, but that wasn't what mattered right now. _Tell her this, when she's in any fit state to hear it,_ Lorna said, grief lancing through her. _That fucker thought he'd use this to hurt her, but she's the one John'd want to have the thing, I'm sure. Once it's no longer a horror to her, it'll be a reminder of somebody she loved._ Christ, that lovely man...of course he'd carried a pocket watch. Proud of his heritage, his family...Irish in everything but the land he was born in.

Thanadir whispered to Earlene softly in Sindarin. She was already trying to compose herself, nodding in agreement at whatever he was saying to her, even as new tears splashed from her eyes. The elf continued his words, rubbing her back, and soon she was wiping her face on her sleeve before Thranduil held out a damp cloth to Thanadir, to whom he nodded in grateful approval. It made him very happy, the bond that these two shared. Just as he and Lorna had shared a similar kind of negative life experience in common, he understood that the same held true for his seneschal and his wife. Shared misfortune could create powerful sympathy, and comfort in times of distress. When she felt a little better, Earlene turned to him of her own accord, her eyes now flashing more with anger. "I wish what I did could have killed him. So much," was all she could say. No one present was about to disagree. And now that her own moment of intense grief was past, she looked at the hairbrush with her brow furrowed. That it meant something, she was certain, but she did not really wish to ask.

Lorna had no such compunction. "What's with this?" she asked of the world in general, holding it up. "Earlene's make a fucking horrible sort'v sense, but a hairbrush?"

A brief look of discomfort passed over Thranduil's face. _Eru, not again,_ he thought.

Lorna looked at him. _Thranduil, please, just tell me. I can handle it, and I'll always wonder otherwise._

"He liked your hair. Very much. The feel and scent of it. He...enjoyed himself brushing it. I am sorry," he said, wondering at the ongoing ability of this man to extract harm from his assaults.

Under any other circumstances, Lorna's flail as she tossed the thing away would have been comical. "Oh, _ew_ ," she said, shuddering, shivers of revulsion crawling up her spine. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. I don't suppose we could just...return to sender?" No, there was no return address. Shit. "Well, it's an antique. Maybe Mary'd like it, so long's we don't tell her the story behind it." She let Ratiri pull her down into his arms. She'd have him brush her hair later, because he was Ratiri and she actually _wanted_ him to touch her. In this case, with this one thing, Von Wretched could suck it. As Sarah said in _Labyrinth_ , ' _my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me'._

"Am I the only one who wants to go back to the Halls now?" Earlene asked, sorry to have had her interest in watching films dissolve and yet feeling that if there was a day to have be ruined, it may as well be this one, which had been sort of… _pre_ -ruined.

"Not remotely," Lorna said, gingerly picking the hairbrush up with two fingers and dropping it back in the box. "Anybody know Mary's address? Drop this in the post so it's not here any longer than it has to be." Squick. Squick, squick, _squick_.

"Leave it in the spare room for right now, Lorna. When Thanadir goes to town next he will take it. It'd take a half an hour to do the online package postage shite and it isn't worth it. If you don't want it in the house, perhaps Thanadir would be kind enough to run it out to the barn, and set it into the bicycle basket. It won't be forgotten, trust me." She turned to Thranduil. "Someday, that watch will be a cherished remembrance. But if you could keep it somewhere, for now. I just really can't be looking at it yet. He's got no other family, else I'd send it on to them." No more was said, lest she start crying again.

Lorna was quiet a moment. "No," she said thoughtfully, picking up the brush again. "I love how he thinks he'll freak me out with this shite. He thinks he's got that over me, and over you, Thranduil, since he has to know I'd ask about these things. He wants to break both'v us, and you know what? Fuck him. This can sit right here until I give it to Mary." She looked at Thranduil. "He's not doing this to either'v us again."

"You know, you're right," Earlene said. "Fuck him, and the plane he flew in on. Now I don't care what we do. Stay here, go back, whatever. I'm not letting him influence my day. He's a fly on Buttercup's cow patty, and a sickly one at that."

"I," Lorna said, levering herself to her feet, "need a wee, and then I need a walk. Trump the Chump left a bad taste in my mouth even before this shite." Literally - but then, she actually had felt a little bile rise at Thranduil's explanation of the brush. Gross. "I just wish the chickens were still little fuzzy things, not big bastards that try to eat my toenails every time I go out there." Rubbing the small of her back, she half-walked, half-waddled her way into the toilet, really wishing she could have some vodka right now.

Ratiri eyed the brush like it was a snake. In truth, it seemed like he was more upset by it than Lorna, but he was quite capable of keeping it to himself. "I'll go with her," he said, rising himself. "But I'm taking this with me." He picked up his mug of cocoa, and waited until Lorna emerged to hand her hers. They clinked mugs, and sipped, and Lorna didn't bother trying to restrain a burp.

"There, that was for him," she said. "I'll dedicate my next fart his direction, too."

Thranduil shook his head, but he smiled. "After you," he gestured, ready to follow whichever direction this walk would take. He looked back to see that Earlene and Thanadir were thumb wrestling, with both their faces rapt in intense concentration.

Lorna set down her cocoa before she left, snagging a bottle of fizzy water from the fridge. She led Ratiri and Thranduil out to the barn, chugging as she went, and when they were far enough away that she wouldn't scandalize Earlene and Thanadir, she belched, rather impressively, "FUCK YOUUUU." A pause, another chug, "IN THE EEEEAAR."

Ratiri utterly lost it, laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall of the barn, while Lorna took an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, I'm here all week," she said, followed by a smaller burp. "I'm an adult, I promise."

Thranduil stood with his hand covering his mouth, wanting to laugh as hard as Ratiri but refusing to allow it. _Eru, what has happened to my life?_ And yet he knew the answer. In spite of all the danger they faced, he would not trade this in for what he had a year ago. For anything.


	50. Chapter 50

Earlene looked up from the intricate fabric tassel Thanadir had taught her to weave; a six-stranded sennit that would decorate some bells that had been scavenged from an ancient harness. "I feel like shit for having asked for this tree, Lorna," she confided, since the ellyn were gone from the room and so was Ratiri, whose eye for logical solutions had been commandeered earlier in the day. "Or rather, these _trees_." Lothiriel sat with them, the lovely elleth who had been assigned some weeks ago to care for Allanah when Thanadir could not be present, and to help the firith as well. But as she spoke almost no English, the topic was safe from her ears. "I'd no idea they'd have to go to Dublin to get these things, that they would weigh what they weigh, and that it would take an act of god to return them here." She shook her head.

A few weeks ago she'd decided she wanted a holiday tree very badly, and it was going to be Allanah's first birthday. But when she told the ellyn of the custom of bringing in a cut conifer, they had both blanched. A fake tree was useless without electricity, since all the good ones now had fiber optic lights. So, that left only one real option; Earlene had special-ordered living fir trees. First they chose a large one, grown in a wooden container. The tree itself would be between five and six feet, but with the height of the container that held the root ball, it would be a fairly substantial specimen. As the discussions commenced, it became apparent that if they were to share their holiday with all the elves, _two_ trees would be required. The larger one would reside in the Dining Hall for the enjoyment of all, while a smaller and far more manageable tree would be brought for their family, to have in their quarters. And afterward, if Thranduil allowed it, the trees could be planted...somewhere.

"I wouldn't," Lorna said. "They took it as a challenge, because all men are the same, even if they're elves. Gave them something to do and got them out'v the house." Oh, how she wished _she_ could get out of the house; yes, the caverns were huge and beautiful, but there were things about the human world she missed. She knew, though, why it wasn't an option - but that didn't mean she had to like it. Laughing, she shook her head. "I tried to get a Christmas tree home on my motorcycle one year. In a rainstorm. Not a wise idea."

Earlene simply stared at her, wondering vaguely why anything Lorna had done in the past was capable of surprising her. "God my life was dull, compared to yours," was all she could manage, trying to imagine a fir tree on said motorcycle. "Ok, I have to ask. How did you even mount the thing on the bike?" Because her best solution would have been to strap the thing along the frame of the vehicle and sit on it, and the thought of tree needles up her lady bits really wasn't settling too well.

Lorna, somewhat sheepishly, said, "Okay, I want to preface this by saying it wasn't a long trip or at high speeds, and I didn't have a terribly good understanding of the drag that would happen. I tied the bottom of it to the back fender, the top of it to the handles on really long string, and just sort'v...sat under it. I'd figured I'd be going so slow it wouldn't matter - it was just through the village and out to the cottage. Yeah, nope. I got a valuable lesson in physics that day, and Mairead has laughed at me ever since. I wouldn't call your life dull, I'd call it sane."

No response was possible, except a nod. Earlene turned to Lothiriel, and with her usual reluctance said, "Boe padad," (it is necessary to walk) reaching for her hands. It was a phrase even Lorna had learned well, because both of them became uncomfortable quickly, and the only relief they could find was in walking around the room a bit before that too became a lost cause. They had both reached a girth that made standing up unassisted very difficult, and Ratiri and Thranduil both insisted they ask for help. Lothiriel was much stronger than both of them combined on a good day, and swiftly helped her to her feet with a look of sympathy. "Ú-onnen gwanûn, a gad mimp roen i gant nîn thiant sui hen" (I did not bear twins, and at eleven months my shape appeared like this).

 _Please Eru, not twelve months. It cannot….it just...cannot._ But she said nothing aloud. _You wanted this,_ she reminded herself for the nth time. She took a deep breath, holding her own abdomen, and walked, trying to take steps that stretched her muscles. And it was perhaps five minutes later, that she had to return to her usual throne on the sofa. Lorna, for her part, reigned from an armchair with an ottoman. Yes, there they were, Queens over the Living Rooms. When her walking had become more limited, Thanadir had insisted she try different kinds of exercise. He would help her into her swimwear (without which her bust became a roadblock to progress) and then the pool, which was large enough, and required her to do things like kick against the water while he kept her from going anywhere and...all sorts of strange things, really. But the water took away so much of the weight of her pregnancy, and she was able to do things like jog in place and swing her submerged limbs in rapid movements, using the resistance of the water. He also required her to pull and push against his hold on her arms or legs; and his regimen was demanding to the point where she would be out of breath and quite tired at the end. Thranduil was privately very grateful for this, because only Thanadir could manage it. Earlene would have probably tried to strangle him in his sleep had he asked the same of her, and yet she did what the seneschal asked without more than an occasional glare. She tried to be civil to all, but her temper had become far shorter and more unpredictable.

Earlene and Lorna would trade off with the pool, and lift weights while the other was in it. It had been Ratiri's idea to keep up their upper body strength, even though they couldn't do much else besides swim. Fortunately, Lorna's fear of water had been dealt with months ago, but she had rather the same issues as Earlene: Ratiri insisted she push as far as she safely could, and he'd endured more than one episode of snarling Irish invective. Unfortunately, he had his own version of Thanadir's Puss in Boots eyes, so she couldn't stay mad at him, which meant she got pissed at everything else, inevitably spent about fifteen minutes maudlin, then just wanted pickles. So, so many pickles. As of this week, the pickles included barbecue sauce for dipping.

Ugh, she just wanted this to be _over_ , and she still had three more bloody months. At least she wasn't like poor Earlene, though she felt rather terrible for feeling grateful for thinking it. "I'm wondering more than ever why any woman does this more than once," she said, to the world in general. "I think elves've got the right idea, just having one." At least she'd made many, many baby booties, and taken to sharpening knives when she couldn't stand being domestic any longer. Ratiri cautiously let her throw them every so often, just to give her some walking exercise - though not often, since it meant an elf had to carry her all that way. As time went on, she was less tempted to do it anyway, because her back started hurting so abominably in so short a time that it wasn't worth it.

"I hope Thanadir remembers to take pictures," Earlene said wistfully, wishing she could have gone with them to Dublin. But it was out of the question. She had given Thanadir her phone, which he had long since learned to use with ease, hoping she might gain at least a little idea of their day. And the hours dragged on. Eventually she had made all the sennits she could stand, and had to do something else. With a sigh, she picked up Thanadir's Shakespeare book, that he often left here. Lorna had nodded off, apparently, and it was just as well, for eventually The Bard would do the same to her. While she loved to listen to this read aloud, as Thanadir had learned to do passably well, reading it as text was not so much fun. They'd even all joined together, some nights, sitting around and each taking a role. All of them stumbled at first over the strange older English, but after awhile they found the words and phrasing seemed rather normal. They would do their best to "act" the plays with only their voices, and invariably ended up with much to think about, and talk about. It was a way to pass the time, and had its own rewards. That and it was just damn funny, when one of them would begin a sentence with 'Prithee.'

It was not long before "The Winter's Tale" had sent Earlene to sleep as well. Lothiriel smiled and took the book from her, opening it to see the strange written characters and frowning. The illustrations were beautiful, and she wished to know what the book was about; she would have to ask Thanadir. Moreover, she determined to learn the mortals' language; it was apparent that they were not going anywhere, and only two of them could speak any meaningful amount of Sindarin. She would like to talk to the one named Lorna, and she could not except through a translator. Both firith seemed very nice, albeit very miserable just now. She sighed, watching over the sleeping ones while her fingers turned the pages of the indecipherable book.

 _The longer this went on, the more often Lorna dreamed of being_ normal _again, not this lumbering land whale that could do nothing but be a useless lump. She dreamed of walking through the forest behind her cottage, free and unencumbered, with no protruding gut in her way. It was a lovely dream, the sun bright and warm around her, the scent of the forest hanging in the air...and of course she had to wake up from it all too soon._

Wake, curled on her side, for it was the only way she could sleep halfway comfortably anymore. She was still a land whale, still a useless lump, and just now, on a downswing of her hormones, she was profoundly depressed. She hated this, hated everything about it, and sometimes, when she hit the depths of these lows, she caught herself wishing it had never happened. Such thoughts never lasted; she truly did want these children, but sometimes her hormones got the best of her for a bit.

Looking at Lothiriel, she said, "Drauthas." She was pretty sure it meant something like 'fatigue'. She wished she knew enough of the language to express what she truly meant: it wasn't just weariness of the body, but of the spirit. She felt like an arse, too, because women had been doing this for hundreds of thousands of years...but then, probably a great many of them had felt and did as she did now. She was by no means the only one who had hated everything, but she knew so damn little of this language, even now, that all she could say was 'fatigue'. Much as she didn't want to dump it all on Ratiri, she'd promised months ago to use her words, so use them she would, insofar as she was able. One of the problems she still retained was an inability to actually articulate the shite in her mind even to herself, but Ratiri was good at coaxing it out and giving her words to use. She really did not deserve that man, and did what she could to repay him.

Some random pain woke Earlene, who rubbed her eyes, and needed the toilet. This was so freakishly pathetic. "Lothiriel, alio nin?" (help me). It bothered her to no end that their language did not have an easy equivalent of 'please', because she was reduced to using a pleading tone of voice to try and express that. Saying 'an i 'ell nîn' (for my joy) when goddamn nothing about it was joyful simply…. _grated_. Otherwise, she felt rude beyond words, though both ellyn had reassured her that this kind of thinking did not enter the equation. Strong hands soon helped her to her feet. "Len hannon," she said gratefully. At least they had _that_ part of good manner, so she could say 'thank you'. Tottering off to the restroom, she always pondered Bridie's words of advice from some months ago. More specifically, when she would finally manage to pee herself. There had been a few close calls, prevented probably only by what amounted to the iron strength of her pelvic floor muscles. An unanticipated urge to cough, or sneeze, was the worst kind of danger; though thankfully she'd not known so much as a light cold since coming to Thranduil.

Feeling relieved, she cleaned her hands, thinking of her husband. _I miss him. And I miss Thanadir._ Truthfully, she was almost never without one or both of them for a minute, and she was ashamed to admit she hated it. Her chin quivered. _Oh this is the goddamn end,_ she thought. _I am sitting here crying because two people went to town for an afternoon?_ And yet she could not stop. It was as if misery wanted to pour out of her, which made her grow more ashamed and filled with self-loathing by the minute. It was quite some time, before she re-emerged, thankful only that Lothiriel's oversight did not extend to intruding into the restroom to check on her. She hadn't really gotten going crying compared to what was possible, so perhaps no one would notice. Or rather, Lorna probably would notice, but she might not say anything, since she seemed to be just about as much in the dumpster herself.

Forcing herself to return, Earlene flopped down with a sigh. "There has to be a way not to go mad, with this. There has to be. A way to not be a pathetic, quivering mass of self-pity and annoyance. A way to have the soundtrack in my head not be one from a bad movie. All this time I've tried not talking about it, and that's not working worth shit any more. Just, goddammit." She stared stonily ahead, at a loss to answer her own rhetorical question.

Her words lifted Lorna out of her fog of depression. "If there is, I don't know'v it, so we might have to...experiment, a bit. And holy shit, that did _not_ come out the way I meant it to." The unintended entendre made her burst out laughing. "I mean we need to evade these well-meaning but overprotective males and do some shite for ourselves. Something aside from knitting, reading, and sharpening knives." She didn't yet know what that something else _was_ , but the pair of them were creative. They'd come up with something.

"You mean like go to the cellars, climb into an empty wine barrel, and make a break for Lake-Town?" Earlene quipped. And then she wondered. "Where in fuck did all those places go, anyway? Was there a Lonely Mountain somewhere? Because it sure doesn't seem like it now." A huge snort came out. "Maybe if we just laid down and rolled? I can't stand being carried everywhere but what am I supposed to do, rollerblade? The floors here aren't exactly good for that, and falling off the arches would be a one-way trip. But you know, I'd give a lot just for a simple wheelchair. Just to go to the table and back. Just to go down the hall without needing to be carried. To see what, I don't know...but, come to think of it, the route between here and the Dining Hall should be wheelchair-safe. Those paths don't go near the throne, no arches."

"I want one of those motorized sofas," Lorna said dreamily, "but I'd settle for a wheelchair. Although, building a sofa would at least give me something to do besides knit, and Thanadir's always so damn curious about things. Even a wheelchair, though - they're not hard to get, and it's not like the elves have trouble carrying things. We could get wheelchairs easily." But she wanted - oh, she _wanted_. She was going to look up the specs to build one next time she had actual internet access, and then she was going to get Ratiri to get her the parts, and then she was going to build a god damn motorized armchair. And she'd even give it an engine powerful enough to be street legal. How she would get it out of the forest, she had no idea, but there was time to plan.

"Far be it from me to rain on your parade," she grinned, thinking privately that that was the most absurd thing she could think of for transport in the Irish countryside. Not to mention the forest. "But...maybe a wheelchair isn't beyond question. And yet I hate to turn this place upside down for something that won't last forever. Oh, I'll have to think about it." _What really sounded good was an Olympic sized heated swimming pool, and then she could be somewhere and go further than two feet under her own power with grace and elegance._ A very hard kick from one of the girls only served to emphasize how much none of that fantasy was going to be happening. _Please come back soon,_ hovered at the forefront of her mind.

As they motored down the M7, Ratiri was still unable to believe what he had just witnessed. When they arrived at the nursery, they were greeted by understandably skeptical workers who took one look at them, another at the van, and then at the trees. And each other. Ratiri, at Thranduil's silent suggestion, managed to convince the employees that he needed to verify which payment card had been used for the transaction (Earlene had sent hers with him, having tried to think of every conceivable thing that might go awry). When they all returned five minutes later, the potted trees were in the van, and two smiling and generally innocent looking males appeared as though nothing unusual whatsoever had just happened.

"How'd you manage it?" the one whose name tag identified him as Ian asked, in complete disbelief. The larger of the two containers had to have weighed in the vicinity of 275 lbs. , and that was before rainy weather had added the weight of moisture to the root ball. Thanadir and Thranduil looked at each other blankly before Ratiri came to the rescue.

"They work out," he said, hoping the vague answer would somehow fly. "If there's nothing more, we'll be off, then?" Nods sent them back into the van expeditiously, with Thanadir somehow managing to weave around the larger of the two trees in order to find a seat. As it was, the rear view mirror showed an elf head sticking up out of branches.

Ratiri bit the inside of his cheek, somehow managing not to laugh. He flexed his rather sore right hand, grimacing a little. "I hate to say this," he said, pulling out of the car park, "but I needed a bit of a break. Lorna's hit a point in her pregnancy I never thought any man would regret, but good _grief_. I'm almost relieved when she's moody."

"I forget, how advantageous it is to have Thanadir. Not for _that_ , of course, but to help. It is taking a great deal of effort to keep Earlene even vaguely comfortable. Their feet, their backs, their legs...I do not honestly see how humans have populated the earth to this extent, if this is what your females must endure to give birth. And I cringe to think of what women experience who do not have helpful partners, or who have worse complications. Though I would not dare speak it to either one of them, they have had an easy time of it thus far."

"Alassëa struggled as much as Earlene," Thanadir pointed out. "Earlene has been much like an elleth, in all this."

"Some women have it easier than others," Ratiri said. "Those that keep the babies, at any rate. I was so nervous at first with Lorna's because one-third of human pregnancies will spontaneously miscarry, often before the woman even knows she's pregnant, and twins at a higher ratio than that. Lorna, at her size, carrying twins, is at a hopeless disadvantage. I just wish she would focus more on eating pickles and less on, er, bedroom things. A human man can only handle _that_ so many times in one day. She'll pass out of it in a month or so, thank God, or she might kill me. I'm forty-two, not twenty-two - but then, at least it's a little while she's not uncomfortable and miserable, so I shouldn't complain quite so much."

Thranduil frowned. "I will likely regret asking this but...the item that Lorna did not wish to have from her friend Siobhan...are there not...contrivances, that might provide you a respite?" He shook his head. "I confess the item has yet to be...explored. Earlene has seemed disinterested in such things in favor of, ah, what is ordinary."

Thanadir's eyebrows went up. Though some part of him wished to find this conversation unseemly, his King was wed, and he had every right to discuss these matters if he chose. And as it was not something to which he ever gave thought, it was somewhat...illuminating. It had not occurred to him that females might wish for marital affection when they were with child. And especially not that they might wish it to the point of being demanding.

Thranduil saw the play of thoughts across his seneschal's face, and took pity on him. "You must understand, meldir, the gift of Eru provides an extreme amount of physical enjoyment for both male and female. This pleasure allows for freedom from pain and discomfort for mortals, though only briefly. And because of the the way the female body changes as the children grown, there is an influence on the mind to seek out this comfort in excess of what is usual. You have seen how much Earlene struggles with her emotions, and her clarity of thought. This is being done to her mind, by her body. She cannot help any of it; and in fact it is apparently how it was meant to be. I do not know how better to explain it, for you."

"I don't know if it's the same with Elves as with humans," Ratiri said, "but our emotions are largely governed by hormones and biochemicals - processes that occur within the body, which are entirely apart from our cognitive experiences with the outside world. Pregnancy alters them, and is why women can seem so...volatile. It's also why Lorna's eating huge amounts of pickles and barbecue sauce. Quite honestly, both of them are handling it better than some of the women my colleagues treated over the years. One of my friends worked in A & E - Accident and Emergency - and had a man come through with a fork stabbed through his hand. His wife was eight months gone and he made some crack she evidently resented. A lot." He grimaced. "As for those...things...I've seriously thought about ordering her something on Amazon. Problem is, I'm not a woman. I don't know what sort of…" His face heated, and he said no more.

"Perhaps Earlene could help, discreetly," Thranduil said, though with a grave measure of uncertainty. "She at least shares the same...anatomy."

Thanadir considered that while the idea of such overwhelming pleasure was intriguing on some level, it sounded like a great many regrettable complications went along with this privilege. And as there were chocolate desserts, he felt comfortable with the conclusion that he was not really missing out on anything he could not live without, if he had managed for over eighteen thousand years as a single ellon.

Thought of asking Earlene was rather humiliating, but Ratiri's hand by now experienced random bouts of cramping, and he was having back problems. Still… "I don't know that I could ask her that myself," he said, wincing a bit. "But if you wouldn't mind…" Earlene was Thranduil's wife; she probably wouldn't mind being asked those questions if they came from him. "And I really wish Lorna's cravings would shift. Pickles, pickles, pickles and barbecue sauce coupled with green tea and blueberry...I don't know how she can stomach it."

"I will agree that that sounds lacking in nutritional merit," grimaced Thranduil. Though he had tried each and found them reasonably likable, both at once seemed vaguely horrifying. "I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that Earlene has not evidenced these sorts of desires."

Thanadir remembered something. "I am sorry, Thranduil, I have only just now recalled something. Earlene asked if we could go to a larger grocery store. There were some items she wished."

"Which were?" the King asked.

"Apples, peanut butter, and something called marzipan. Or a kind of holiday bread called Stollen. She wrote them into her phone, perhaps I am not saying the words right."

Ratiri laughed. "I know what all of those are. I hope you did not speak too soon, Thranduil."

The King frowned. "Me too."

"Still less obnoxious than pickles and barbecue sauce, though," Ratiri said. "I'll see if I can't get her onto something less disgusting." There was a supermarket not far away, according to his GPS, so he headed that direction, weaving through traffic rather less aggressively than normal. "She's partial to blueberries, but they're not in season. Have to see if this place has some anyway." Fruit was healthy, after all. He'd get her ice cream if there was any way to keep it frozen that didn't involve a half-hour's walk to the cottage. "So what have you done for Earlene's Christmas presents?" He'd ordered a multitude of things off Amazon for the lot of them over the last month, and though there was no keeping Thranduil from knowing what his would be, at least the others need not. Admittedly, Earlene and the Elves (and he was always going to consider it a wonderful band name, too, _thank you, Lorna_ ) were tough to shop for, because they had just about everything, but he'd managed some things. That plus wrapping paper and he was reasonably set.

"Thanadir and I have a terrible dilemma, with this," he said, sighing. "In New York, Earlene had a discussion with Thanadir about music. She would like to learn an instrument, and he required her to tell him what would please her, though she tried to refuse. It was a harpsichord." The name was said slowly, as though it did not roll easily off his tongue. "It required an unparalleled amount of scheming, to acquire. Lorna had to use her friends to locate such a thing, and use her own funds to hide the payment of it from Earlene, though she will of course be reimbursed. They are costly, and rare. Thanadir had to be shown how to tune it, since we cannot exactly bring other mortals to the Halls. Having it delivered, and carrying it the rest of the way without Earlene knowing was a feat. It is beautiful, and Thanadir has already acquired some proficiency at playing on it...but to give her this present when she now can barely move, and is so uncomfortable? It seems like a kind of cruelty. And yet it is the only thing I have to give, that she wanted but could not obtain on her own."

Ratiri considered this as he pulled into the car park. "I wouldn't call it a cruelty," he said. "Rather, it gives her something to look forward to, and she can listen to Thanadir play for her. Anything new and distracting will be a help, but something she wanted so much? It would be welcome." He'd never actually seen a harpsichord in person, and had no idea how in the hell even Lorna's connections could have found one.

"Those are good points," Thanadir said encouragingly. He had been trying to sway Thranduil to not worry so much about this, because he too felt that it would be favored greatly by Earlene. His own gifts were far simpler; his first quilt, made for her with a birch tree pattern. A pretty dress that would fit her now, and another that would fit her after the children came. And of course a little dress for Allanah. For his King he had done something much less elaborate and yet more heartfelt, but would not share that here, of course. For Lorna he too had made clothing, and a small quilted throw with a shamrock on it. And for Ratiri, he had laboriously prepared a writing set, with several quills that he had heat-treated and trimmed himself from saved feathers. There was an ancient inkpot to go with this, and something he had prepared on parchment by hand and framed; a visual demonstration of to how to correctly make each calligraphic letter stroke for the Tengwar alphabet. He hoped he had done well, in his efforts.

"All right, groceries," Ratiri said, shutting off the engine. "I have to admit, being out under open sky is...odd. It almost makes me paranoid." _Please, don't let me be turning into a human mole._ He didn't need agoraphobia.

Thanadir and Thranduil were slightly taken aback by what any human would generously label 'holiday shopping madness'. They had never seen a grocery of any size other than the one in Lasg'len; this one was dozens times larger. And there were people everywhere, most of them looking harried and unhappy. They both kept close to Ratiri, even as they realized that they cut striking and noticeable figures in the aisles on account of their height alone. Thranduil did not know whether to laugh or cry, since the thoughts of those who saw them were either "Gorgeous", "Poofters", "Gypsy" (in Ratiri's case) or just diffuse curiosity. He was fairly certain that for one or two middle-aged ladies, he had entirely made their day just by passing before their eyes. When he smiled beautifully at them, this notion was further confirmed. Fortunately what Earlene wanted was very easily located, and the Stollen and marzipan were apparently seasonal treats. Thranduil watched Thanadir's face as he saw the assorted sweet treats for this time of year and told him to indulge in some more items. _Brother, or fourth child?_ He smiled, shaking his head.

Ratiri picked up two big boxes of blueberries, ignoring the exorbitant cost of such a fruit out-of-season, along with apples, honey, and unfortunately, more pickles and barbecue sauce. Ice cream might not be an option, but vanilla yogurt and assorted canned fruit was. He got some dipping caramel for the apples, too, just in case - he really, really needed to get her to eat some fruit, even if it involved combining it with sweet things. He also grabbed some powdered Tang - it kept longer than orange juice, and had plenty of calcium and vitamin C in it. Along with it went a case of fizzy water, because she'd just started craving carbonation in the last few days...and his cart was full. When the _hell_ had that happened? Oh well.

The lot of them found a line, waiting patiently while those around them waited not-so-patiently. Ratiri really didn't understand why so many people were in such a damned _hurry_ \- was there anything in their lives that justified it?

It was with a sense of relief that they returned to the van, somehow tucking their purchases in amongst the greenery. When the M7 at commute hour was a saner prospect than food shopping, surely it was best to leave civilization to itself. By mutual consent, the trees would come to the Halls the next day; no harm would come to them on Earlene's back porch in the night. It would be quite enough to shift all these groceries.

"I vote wheelbarrow," Ratiri said, eying the haul they'd bought. The fizzy water certainly had to go in it, and the smaller things could sort of...balance on top. The Elves were strong, but carrying all that for over a mile would still be no fun.

"I cannot argue," said Thranduil. "I know where it is located, in the barn. I will be back in a moment, and we will have these trees out as well." It was only a few minutes later when two mentally weary elves and one altogether weary mortal made their way into the woods.

Ratiri prayed Lorna wouldn't want to immediately jump his bones when he got home. The trouble was that he just couldn't resist her, even when he knew he ought to; sooner or later he was going to die of exhaustion. Maybe she would eat her blueberries and go into a food coma early.

It was odd, how approaching these gates felt like coming home. He would not want to live here forever, and yet it really was a kind of home. And it was with profound relief that he passed through those massive gates, knowing that no matter where the hell Von Ratched was, he couldn't get at them now.

"You know," said Earlene, breaking another long and morose silence, "if we've got gifts to wrap for that lot, best do it now while they're away. It won't be easier a week from now, and we'll be broadcasting our thoughts to Thranduil, if by some miracle he doesn't already know every single thing we are giving him." She hoisted herself up, this time under her own determined power. There were sheets of brown paper, for this purpose, and string. Somewhat determined to live in a 'when in Rome' manner, she would make do with just these, and hope that they didn't look altogether like a three year old did the work.

Getting to Lorna's rooms took a bit of creativity. Her gift to Earlene was safe in Thanadir's rooms, and he could probably wrap it far better than she could. Thranduil's big book of Irish history got hauled into his and Earlene's room, though, and wrapped as best she could. She and Ratiri had gone in together on Thanadir's: an iPod and one hell of a lot of classical music and audiobooks, much of which was pirated, because fuck spending thousands of dollars to fill the damn thing. Ratiri's...was waiting. She tucked the little box in her pocket once she'd wrapped it up. "Oof," she said, rubbing her stomach. "I swear one'v them's having a rave in there."

Earlene chuckled. "I'm going to excuse myself to the other room for a bit, but if you want the facilities just go on through. I have to write something and need what's left of my brain cells to do it." She saw that Lorna looked to be occupied for awhile yet, and something had occurred to her that could not wait, if she was to do it. Yes, she'd bought Thranduil an enlightening and totally impersonal History of the World in one volume, and had not at all been happy with this as her gift to him. But what she really wanted was a way to communicate to him how much she loved him, and how extraordinary her life had become on account of him. And that couldn't be bought, but it could be written; the one thing she could do best of all. Taking one of her pens with her, she left to sit at the desk in their bedroom with some parchment, and put into words what she wanted him to know. _If the worst happens in the months to come, at least he will always have this, which is more than the words of Thanadir passing along my wishes._ With a huge sigh, she folded it, and forced herself to put it away and push it out of her mind before returning to the other room.

Lorna had everything wrapped that could be wrapped, and was lying on the sofa with her feet up and trying to brush her hair at the same time. It wasn't the world's greatest idea, but she did it anyway. She was actually going to need a trim fairly soon; something in the vitamins Ratiri had her taking had it growing like a weed, to the point that it was almost brushing the back of her knees. That was too long even for her, and not just because she had to wrap it around her neck like a scarf to pee. Thanadir was good with scissors; maybe she'd have him do it. "So, I read these science fiction books where they had uterine replicators, so a baby could just get cooked up in there and no woman had to suffer through pregnancy. Why the _hell_ don't we have that yet?"

"Probably for the same reason we don't have Orgasmatrons or Malthusian Belts," Earlene quipped. "They'd make too much sense." She watched in idle fascination at the Lady Godiva-worthy tresses that Lorna was brushing. Her own hair had now grown to somewhat below her shoulders; she'd not cut it in any fashion since coming here. But she certainly intended to, before it could become anywhere near as long as Lorna's. Just then a noise was heard in the outer rooms and her heart leaped in hopefulness. Thanadir entered first with some bags of what appeared to be food, and was altogether a welcome sight. A very tired-looking Ratiri and Thranduil came in afterward.

Lorna rolled herself off the sofa and hauled herself to her feet, trundling over to give Ratiri a kiss on the cheek. "Back from the wars?" she asked.

"Supermarket wasn't as bad as it'll be in a week and a half, but it was bad enough," he said. "I bought you blueberries."

"You're a saint," she said, grinning. "I've got all your presents wrapped."

"Well, I _haven't_ got yours, so you need to stay out of the movie room for now."

While Earlene was watching this exchange with amusement, Thanadir was slicing an apple for her at the sideboard, procuring also a spoon with which he scooped some peanut butter onto a small plate. He sat next to her to present this treat, nodding courteously to Lothiriel, who now had permission to leave. Earlene gave her utmost not to attack the food like a ravening animal, and instead thanked him politely and forced herself to chew the food. It tasted so soooo wonderful. The seneschal did not know how dangerously close he was to receiving an excessive and public display of affection; fortunately she had the apples for that. Thranduil watched the sum of her thoughts and could only tell himself, _at least it is not pickles._ She was even polite enough to not ask, if there was Stollen.

Lorna headed back to the sofa, snagging her hair on an end-table along the way. "Thanadir, could you at some point cut off some'v this nightmare?" she asked. "It's a bit much even for me."

"But it's pretty," Ratiri protested, untangling it. "And soft."

"It's also almost as long as I am tall," she pointed out. "I have to wrap it around my damn elbow to put it in a braid now. Enough is enough."

Ratiri understood, but at the same time, it make him somewhat sad. Brushing it kept her from pouncing on him every time she got him alone, and it made her seem even more like a fairy. A fairy that had swallowed a bowling ball, but still.

"I can do this now, if you wish," said Thanadir. "There are shears here." He looked at her expectantly, to see whether she meant 'some point, now' or 'some point, later'. It had finally registered that not all mortals spoke with precise intent.

"If you wouldn't mind doing it now, I'd really appreciate it," she said. "Take off oh, this much," she said, showing him fifteen centimeters. "I've never had it this long, and I'm not fond'v it." She hopped up onto the sofa, so he could actually work without sitting on the ground. The sad thing was that even standing on the sofa, she could barely look him in the eye. Christ did she hate being so short.

Thanadir did as he was asked, having the presence of mind to silently double-check with Thranduil that his understanding of fifteen mortal centimeters was completely accurate. The hair he set aside in a neat stack. Why, he could not say, but he intended to take it with him. _Perhaps to decorate toys for her children? This would make a wonderful addition to a stuffed horse doll…_

Earlene interrupted him. "Meldir, when you are done, does my hair need any fixing at the bottom? I do not want it shorter, but perhaps it is uneven by now?" Not being particularly vain, she did not look at herself very often in the mirror, and really did not know.

"Your hair looks very nice yet, meluieg, and does not need any attention," Thranduil said smoothly. Which was largely true. He enjoyed so much that it was growing longer, he could not bear to see even a tiny bit of it lost. His wife accepted his word, shrugged, and nodded. Though she did reach for him imploringly.

 _I missed you,_ she said silently. With a smile he moved next to her, and placed an arm around her shoulder as she gratefully snuggled against his strong frame. He laid a hand on her belly just in time to feel another powerful kick that caused her to gasp with pain. He grimaced. He could not stop the children's movements, nor did he want to, but he could mute how intensely she felt the discomfort.

"I will help," he whispered very softly, as she nodded with gratitude. Warmth replaced what felt like bruising. He raised his head to speak to all of them."Tonight in the Dining Hall we are going to try something very new. Word has spread of your Christmas holiday, and my people are interested. They like the idea of showing kindness and gift giving. So among all the elves, all names will go into a large bowl, and all will draw a name to whom to give a gift. But as we do not shop or order on the computer, likely it will be simple things. A poem, a song, a special trinket, or even just words of appreciation. I wanted to ask you, Lorna and Ratiri, would you like to do this with us? I would understand if it were awkward, since you have not met a great many of the elves. And yet maybe this would aid in that?"

"I would gladly do this," said Earlene, thinking that the idea was charming, and had much more in common with an original view of Christmas spirit than whatever the celebration had devolved to in modern times.

Lorna didn't even need to ask Ratiri what he wanted to do, though she looked at him anyway. "Of course we would," she said. "It'd be good to meet them, even if our Sindarin's...shaky." He was better at it than she was - and actually comprehensible - so he could do most of the talking, if neither Thranduil nor Thanadir were on hand to translate. Lorna decided to see just how much of it she could understand herself. She shook her head, relieved to have all that hair gone, and thanked Thanadir.

The following morning Earlene woke, and it was dark. She heard the noises of little Allanah in her bed. And needing to pee was going to drag her out of this warm bed now that she was properly stiff from having fallen asleep on her back...dammit all, she knew not to do that. Struggling, she forced herself to turn onto her side, frustrated now at the size of the bed. Maybe if she crawled. Just when she had her legs under her, her body was effortlessly lifted. "I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you," she said, feeling ridiculous again.

"I was not asleep," he murmured in her ear, carrying her to the facility and rubbing her back. "Earlene, I know how hard this is for you, but you must understand that neither Thanadir or I are in the least bothered. We want to help you. We cannot carry the children in our bodies; only you can. It is our way of honoring what we know you are enduring."

She snorted, cleaning up while feeling tremendously relieved to have her bladder be empty. "The part of me that can still be rational knows that. But that seems to be diminishing all the time. I did not understand just what the totality of this experience was, Thranduil. And I do not mean to complain; I wanted this. Maybe we will want more children yet. I do not know. I have always relied on being logical and so much of the time, it is not wanting to….oh, hell I can't even say what I mean," her shoulders sagging in defeat as she reached for him to help stand up and wash her hands. He carried her back to bed, and she was happy for the warmth of his body. This time he placed her on her side, caressing her back until nothing more was sore or otherwise causing her discomfort. She was gathered against him, where soon she felt him pulsing against her bottom. Feeling hopeful, she moved her upper leg forward, and tilted her hips back toward him invitingly. He eagerly accepted, and she drowsily enjoyed what he offered.

 _I know you tell me you do not mind, but I miss being able to participate more fully in this. I feel like I lie here like a walrus at the seashore, and you do all the work._

 _Meluieg,_ he said, grunting as the tempo of his thrusts increased, _please name one occasion on which I have complained about expending the effort required to make love to you._

He had a point there, and at the moment she could not spare further thought on it because she was quite swept along by his passion, finding her pleasure along with his.

And afterward, she drifted back to sleep, never having managed to answer his question.

Lorna's bladder woke her the next morning, and she had to disengage herself from Ratiri's arms to sneak to the toilet. Having shorter hair, comparatively speaking, made that much easier.

Ratiri was still dead asleep, so she let him be, poking up the fire herself so the elf lady who came in wouldn't have to manage it on her own. Lorna always traded words with her, listening carefully to the Sindarin and teaching her the English equivalent. It was every bit as difficult as Irish, but owing to the dyslexia, Lorna had largely learned Irish orally. She doubted she would ever be fluent in Sindarin - she was simply too old to be learning a new language - but she could probably wind up with a working knowledge of it, if she practiced enough, and God knew she had little else to do right now. She couldn't even play guitar with this gut. She had a newfound respect for Gran, who had somehow, at Lorna's size, done this four damn times, and back before prenatal care was really a thing.

Maerwen, the elf lady who dealt with the fires, came in quiet as a ghost, carrying her bucket and brush. She was lovely, like all the elves, with dark hair as long as Lorna's and clear blue eyes that were nowhere near as creepy as she'd once found Thranduil's. (She wondered when she'd precisely _stopped_ finding them creepy, but it had been quite some time ago now.)

"Aur vaer," Lorna said, in careful Sindarin. _Good morning._ Even with what little she knew, she had to speak very slowly, because her accent had a habit of slaughtering her pronunciation.

"Good morning," Maerwen returned, in equally careful English. Her accent was a touch odd, but perfectly comprehensible - though amusingly, it had a trace of Lorna's own in there. "Ci maer?" _Are you well?_

"Ni maer," Lorna said, and then repeated it in English, "I am well."

"You do my job before," the elleth scolded lightly, to which Lorna grinned.

"Darthas telu," (literally, "a hateful wait") she said. "Bored."

"Bored?" Maerwen repeated, visibly confused.

Lorna touched her abdomen, then mimed waddling. One thing about the elves, they were damn good at improvised pantomime; they took her meaning far more easily than most humans would.

The elf's eyes cleared. "Ah. This too shall pass." Because she had learned it as an entire phrase, rather than individual words, it came out oddly, but she meant well. Lorna couldn't help but grin again, sitting on the sofa with some difficulty. Maerwen left, and Lorna pondered.

She really wanted to get revenge for that damn hairbrush - specifically, she wanted to record a bunch of belched profanity and mail it at random to one of Von Creepface's companies. It sounded like a fantastic and hilarious idea, but, in accordance with her determination to Adult, she'd actually ask someone before she did it. Surely she didn't have to let that go without some kind of retaliation, right? Nevertheless, she'd ask.

It was odd, how everything to do with that _creature_ and what he'd done to her had ceased to horrify her. Oh, it was creepy and gross, but it no longer made her want to scratch her own skin off in sheer disgust. Thranduil's words must have helped more than she'd thought, because the hairbrush ought to have sent her into a fit of unendurable revulsion, and yet all it did was squick her. Yeah, Von Shitsicle had had a fetish for her hair, and had possibly, according to Thranduil's attempt at delicacy, had a hand shandy while brushing it, but...so what? She couldn't remember it. It might as well have happened to someone else.

 _My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me._ And he didn't; she'd so thoroughly kicked it that she'd suspect Thranduil's involvement, if she didn't know that wasn't how he worked. She could have asked him to deal with it for her, but for some reason she hadn't wanted to. If she didn't manage it on her own, never truly _would_ be managed. Putting a telepathic plaster over it would not have allowed it to heal. Plus...even if he'd fixed it for her, he'd still be stuck with it. Taking the easy way out when he couldn't do it himself...it felt like cheating, like something unfair and wrong. No doubt he'd scold her for worrying about him, except that it wasn't even worry; it was just fairness. Bad enough that he had all her memories of the, er, _event_ \- and okay, _that_ really was going to squick her until the end of time, but it was manageable squick. She no longer wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

She wondered how Mairead and Big Jamie were doing. She'd had one communication from them, when they reached Tuscany, but Orla had warned that anything further ought to be infrequent, just to be safe. Evidently their villa was huge, the weather lovely, Orla and Kevin had actually bought the Witness Protection scheme (for now), and all in all it would have been like a perfect holiday if not for why they'd had to take it. Still, they were safe, and that let Lorna sleep at night. Orla had given them all fake ID's, though the speed at which she'd had to do it meant they weren't as thorough as she'd liked, but at least thorough enough to pass muster to get a villa and handle things like grocery deliveries.

Lorna rose, stretching, and set about finding clothes. She mostly lived in tunics, housecoats, and fuzzy pyjama trousers now, though that last had a hard time staying up anymore, but at least she wasn't wandering about in the clothes she slept in. She had a _few_ standards. She waddled into the toilet with them, setting them on the counter, shucking her nightclothes and crawling into the tub.

What time was it? Beautiful as the Halls were, she missed sunlight, partly because she had no idea how early or late in the morning it was. Gran's old clock was unreliable and mostly for decoration, but oh well. No doubt, if they looked to be oversleeping breakfast, someone would come get them.

To her pleasant surprise, Ratiri joined her in the tub, and they both had a very good morning before getting dressed and heading for Earlene and Thranduil's rooms. Thank God it was a short walk, because it was only going to get more difficult to make. (Motorized armchair. It was going to happen, god dammit, and she'd figure out some way to get it out of the forest sooner or later, even if it meant putting it on a sledge and dragging it.)

They walked into Thranduil's rooms discover that Earlene looked incredibly pleased with herself. She was standing at the dining room table, with a small cushion underneath her belly. Basically, she had parked her entire stomach on top of said cushion and could now happily stand like a normal person, with the babies resting on the table top. A look of concentration furrowed her brow; she was trying to cut paper snowflakes using the very sharp but finicky elven shears whose location Thanadir had so conveniently revealed last evening. "Good morning," she said brightly.

"All right, I've got to try that," Lorna said. "Good morning." She was pleasantly sore in all the right places, and couldn't help a grin as she sat down, curling her feet under her. "Granted, I'd need a footstool, but still. Weather says we might get a white Christmas." At least, it had last night, when she'd listened to the solar radio Mick had got Thranduil for his birthday. There'd been exactly two white Christmases in her entire life, but it seemed like Ireland had been getting colder winters the last few years. Not that she could complain.

Ratiri eyed Earlene's setup. "I wish I'd known about that when I worked in London," he said, sitting beside Lorna. "A great number of women would have appreciated it."

"It was just a...notion, that turned out to be helpful. I'm not sure why it makes such a difference, in principle it's along the same lines as the garment Thanadir made for me. Except with that, it only allows that my upper back can take more of the weight off my lower back. With this, the bag of bricks is being supported by...not me."

Just then Thanadir came in, bearing a tray, and took one look at Earlene's position. She knew by now that if he stopped walking and his lips parted, that it meant some facet of his sensibilities had just been assaulted. And to her surprise, someone new was with him, an ellon she'd not yet met. Smiling, and pretending that she needed to move off to make room for breakfast, she put away her craft project while greeting the new elf. "Mae g'ovannen, im Earlene eston. A len?"

"This is Ortherion," said Thanadir, bypassing her greeting. The ellon smiled shyly at Earlene with an expression that seemed to say, 'Thanadir is being Thanadir.' She grinned openly, since she had the luxury of standing a little behind the seneschal, who could not see her at the moment with his back turned. "He does not yet speak any English, but has expressed a desire to learn. It will be his duty to take over serving meals, and assisting Lothiriel with tasks related to caring for the children. Ortherion and Lothiriel are wed to each other," he explained.

Earlene politely nodded her head to him, trying to smile encouragingly while not giving away her good fortune. Ortherion was the name she had drawn last night in the Hall, and were it not for this sudden shift in the duty roster she would not have known him from Adam. Beyond that, though, she wondered how the ellon felt at being brought into their mortal petting zoo. "I think I should use the restroom before having tea." With a sigh and an arm that draped lightly in affection for a brief moment around Thanadir's waist, she waddled out of the room, teasingly throwing her cushion at Lorna.

Lorna caught it, looked at Thanadir's expression, and at Ratiri, and barely managed to smother laughter. "You've got to admit, it's creative," she said, rising and fiddling with the cushion. She was right; she'd need a stepstool for this to work properly, but at least it looked like it _could_ work. "She might want it all the more, before this is over for her." Lorna dreaded reaching that point, though at least by the time she did, she'd be close to the finish line. Poor Earlene might well have an extra three months, which...no. Just no. "Hello, Ortherion. Mae g'ovannen. Im Lorna eston."

"I eneth nîn Ratiri," Ratiri added. This would be good practice for his Sindarin, though he knew he was also likely to make a fool of himself while trying to do so. Oh well. That was how one learned.

The King appeared. "If you are up for it, Ratiri, I thought we would retrieve the trees after this meal? I confess this is beginning to generate some enthusiasm. Thanadir used that conduit of information known as the kitchens to inform the Halls about the Christmas tree." Thranduil seemed wholly unaffected by yesterday's outing.

"We may as well, before the weather turns," Ratiri said. " _If_ it turns. How are we going to get them here?" The wheelbarrow wouldn't make it through the terrain even if the trees had been able to fit. He could help carry one, but not for a full two miles.

"The smaller one would do well enough in the wheelbarrow," said Thranduil. "The larger one...for that, I am having Thanadir commandeer four other ellyn who will doubtless suffer some indignity at being used like pack mules, but our combined strength can easily manage the distance. My being there and helping should soften the blow considerably," he chuckled. "What I hoped you might do is...I believe 'supervise', is the word. Our conveyance is such that a steadying hand on the tree would not go amiss." He stood back while Thanadir demonstrated the cupboard in which clean tableware was stored to Ortherion, who was clearly trying to make the best of navigating his newfound proximity to his King and seneschal. He and his wife had been accorded a great honor, in his eyes, but it still felt somewhat...intimidating.

Ratiri was legitimately touched. Given their strength, they really didn't need him, but he could be useful nevertheless. "I'll want to put my boots on, but of course I'll help," he said. "Lorna's brought her Gran's old ornaments, too."

"They wouldn't match the tree in the dining hall, but they might do well enough in here," she said. "Most'v them are from when she first married in 1945, though some came from the 60's, too, and they look it. I guess it's called 'vintage' now." It really was interesting, and somewhat amusing, to see Ortherion appear so daunted...she was so used to seeing Thranduil as her friend that she'd never stopped to consider what it must be like for one of his people to be near him. Nobody in the Irish government was popular enough to draw this reaction; it seemed more like how one would regard a celebrity. She managed to smother a smile, realizing that Ortherion wouldn't find it funny in the least. It was bizarrely adorable, actually.

Earlene piped up."The paper snowflakes were a notion I had, that Thranduil will allow. Even though it is a bigger tree, it will still be a tiny thing in the Dining Hall. I told Thanadir how thread can be used to hang them from the ceiling, one at a time, and I think it will look lovely, especially in the low light." This idea would be rubbish, were it not for the fact that the cavern roof of that hall was shot through with tree roots. It would require a ladder-like thing and a hardy soul to hang them all, but these _were_ wood elves... "Of course, they each have to be ironed flat after they are cut out, or the whole thing will look tackier than a cheap imports shop." Earlene too watched Ortherion, and found her heart melting. While all elves were some measure of lovely, this couple was...plainer. They had the brown hair and eyes typical of the Silvan elves, though Lothiriel had streaks of hazel in hers that made them rather striking. But their features lacked the stunning beauty of Thranduil, or the endearing cuteness of Thanadir. Which did not matter in the least one way or the other. _Stop being so shallow, Earlene,_ she chided herself. _That he holds his King in such obvious regard, is what matters here._

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, because both Lorna and Earlene had nearly identical perceptions, and he was struggling to think when the last occasion was on which _that_ had occurred. When the table was laid, Thanadir explained that this was the extent of what was needed, and that after a particular interval of time, he was to return with clean dishes and utensils to replenish the cabinet, and clear the table. The King stepped forward and spoke. "Thank you, and thank Lothiriel for your willingness to undertake these duties. Welcome to our home."

Ortherion flushed in surprise and delight. "i Aran nîn," he said quietly, with a bowed head and hand held against his heart as he withdrew. Thanadir smiled to watch him leave, shaking his head. He would find this amusing, except that he understood that feeling all too well.

"Breakfast is ready," he said, gesturing for everyone to sit while he poured them tea.

The week became more cheerful by far, for Earlene and Lorna especially, because they had activities now on account of the holiday. Deadlines, even. All three mortals took turns with the shears, producing snowflakes from the ream of Earlene's printer paper with which they had absconded. There were different sizes, but they all had done their level best to make them very intricate which meant that just opening the finished item could take several minutes. And then, after, there was always the risk of burning the finished snowflake when ironing it smooth. At Thanadir's suggestion, they quickly learned to place the paper items between pieces of spare cloth that he used for this purpose when ironing garments. To Earlene's surprise, the elven irons were much the same as what humans used prior to electricity; actual iron affairs of assorted size and weight that could be set to heat on top of an device that was in direct contact with the coals of the fireplace. Lorna did this work at the hearth, both for ease of use and to not accidentally scorch any of the King's fine furniture or other belongings. From her gran, she had far more skill at using the temperamental devices, whereas Earlene was certain she would manage to incinerate all of it. The labor at their craft project was ungaily and awkward and completely took their minds off of their own discomforts. And they were both extremely grateful for Lothiriel, because with Allanah actively crawling everywhere now, having someone to mind with an eagle eye that the little girl did not wander toward the fireplace felt crucial.

Though, Thranduil had been communicating with Allanah. He explained that though her reasoning was very undeveloped yet, that he was able to instill in her a sense of wishing to avoid things that were very dangerous. In this case, he had encouraged her away from any fascination with the hearth. While Earlene scratched her head at some aspects of this, there was no way she could comment. And while the idea of telepathically influencing an infant seemed odd, the baby's safety in these Halls was assuredly worth it.

Thranduil and Thanadir both took note of this drastic shift toward the positive, and tried to think of what they could do, after Christmas day, to give the women a similar sense of purpose. Thanadir said that he had an idea, only that he was uncertain how to execute it, and the matter was let be for now. It was five days yet until the actual holiday, and there seemed like so much yet to do. Tonight would be the decorating of the tree in the Hall, and after the meal, some brave ellyn were to hang all the snowflakes the mortals had made. Thanadir had provided string to them, and a kind of glue, and each flake was prepared with a delicate coil of thread of different lengths, that was waxed, and attached to a small hook. It was tedious work and took as long to manage as the damned snowflakes themselves, but the end result (fingers crossed) should be very beautiful. The women walked toward the Dining Hall until Thranduil determined that each of them had gone far enough, and they were carried the rest of the way. The sight of their entry was no longer the spectacle that it had felt like the first time or two. Word had spread that women bearing twins did not have the same resilience as ellith, and that it was no shortcoming on their part that they required so much assistance. And many were openly astonished, when they saw what mortal Earlene willingly endured to bear Thranduil his children. Tiny Lorna, to a one, they all pitied, though not a single elf would dare mention this aloud to any of the King's household. Her resilience had been spoken of by Thanadir, and no one thought less of her. In fact, a few of the ellyn were extremely curious, later on, to watch her throw knives, but that would have to wait.

Earlene had spent some time seated in the kitchen with the cooks, explaining in her passable but far-from-fluent Sindarin about sweet baked goods. Sugar was not something known to them, only honey. And yet sugar was inexpensive and easily had in the mortal world, however lacking in nutritional merit, and made for better textured results. So with the procurement of a volume she chose not to mention to either of the ellyn during the last shipment of groceries, a supply that would more than care for the occasional feast night was procured. They already had eggs, butter, and the finest flour in abundance; the rest was simply technique. It went without saying that most elves would likely veer toward Thranduil's taste for sweets, or lack thereof. So she directed them to flavors that were not so cloying, like vanilla, butterscotch and spice; they began with the simple pound cake. Molasses had also crept in under her influence, allowing for gingerbreads. And unbeknownst to her, a description of gingerbread people and houses took on a life of its own in the kitchens, once she had departed and written out the recipe.

So it was with unfettered delight that Earlene saw a table near the tree, holding a monstrous gingerbread house. Before she would sit to eat, she insisted to Thanadir that he let her look at it. Lorna came with her, not about to be sidelined. Both their lips parted, and though she knew it was hormonal, Earlene had to stop herself from crying.

Lorna stared at it. "What," she said, "in mother _fuck_ …" This thing wasn't a gingerbread house; 'house' didn't do it justice. Little bits of greenery from the forest were used to make "shrubbery" around the house, and there was a way to place a candle inside of it so that it appeared illuminated from within. There were little candies that were colored red, obviously made from sugar at the hard-crack stage. "How?" she whispered to Thanadir. "There is no food coloring here?"

"Beets," he said proudly.

"And the royal icing?" Earlene asked. "That requires a specialty ingredient….?"

"Aislinn at the store ordered it for me." His smile was becoming very smug.

"Meldir, you are amazing," she said, her face full of open admiration. "And wonderful."

He now insisted that she sit, and guided her to a chair next to Thranduil; Ratiri did the same for Lorna. And yet neither woman could take their eyes off of it...it was the nicest gingerbread house they had ever seen.

"You are pleased, meluieg?" the King said, drawing her close.

"Everything you do is so beautiful," she said. "Thank you, for giving me this life." Her eyes shone with sincerity. A kiss to her forehead was all he had time for in return, because their food arrived.

Lorna, naturally, had to snap about a dozen pics with her mobile, intent on showing Mairead whenever she got the chance. If anything would impress her sister, it would be this. "This thing is bloody amazing," she said, leaning against Ratiri. _Trust elves to take a simple human tradition and utterly run away with it_ , she thought. It was almost too lovely to be eaten. She wondered how long it had taken to make, and how many had worked on it, and decided she probably didn't want to know. She _really_ wouldn't be able to eat it if she knew how many man hours - elf hours - had gone into creating it.

"Somebody hold up Allanah near it, will you?" she asked. "More pictures." She was putting together a baby-book for Earlene and Thranduil, to be presented on the anniversary of the day she became theirs.

All the elves ate quickly and so did the humans, because everyone present wanted to see the snowflakes being hung. The show was not disappointing. 'Ladder,' apparently, was not an approved concept. 'Braced tree branch,' was a far better description of what she saw. Three ellyn came. Two bore a long branch that easily reached the fifteen feet or so to the cavern ceiling, and a third had one that was somewhat shorter with a fork in one end. The limbs were joined against each other, at which point Earlene simply stared and thought, _You have got to be kidding me_ , even as she knew they were not. A group of them had assembled; each had a snowflake. With what was obviously laughing and jesting in Sindarin, the first one lightly ran up the branch to the ceiling while his cohorts below kept the limbs from swaying to either side, hung his snowflake, then ran down just as easily. The construct was then repositioned to a new location a little apart from the first, and the process repeated. "Does gravity even exist here?" she asked, hopelessly envious. For all her fitness, this feat exceeded her skills even before her present circumstances existed.

Lorna watched with blatant jealousy. She'd probably topple over sideways if she tried that right now; hell, she doubted she'd make it a full three steps. Ugh, she was _so_ never doing this again. "Only if you're human," she sighed. "Say, did you ever read _Dune_?"

"I did," Ratiri said, which left her entirely unsurprised.

"Baron Harkonnen was really, really fat, and he had those anti-gravity suspensor things so that he could actually, y'know, walk. I really, really wish those actually existed." Looking down at her gut, she sighed, and chose to look at the tree instead. She wouldn't have thought simple paper snowflakes could be so lovely, and yet they _worked_. Christmas seemed a touch more real in here, which was a bit hilarious, since only Thranduil and Thanadir had even heard of the holiday before now.

She thought of Ratiri's present, and what went with it, and nerves fluttered in her stomach. She'd have an answer one way or another, but the waiting was...well. Her little soundmix of various burped profanities had at least kept her mind off it.

"I suppose all of you can do that without thinking twice about it?" Earlene asked Thranduil, who was enjoying the spectacle mightily.

"No, we cannot. They cannot. It is not as easy as they make it look. Most of those participating are the most skilled of our fighters remaining to us, and that aptitude has been gained by untold hours of practice running through the tree limbs."

Sorely tempted to ask if he and Thanadir were able, she forced herself to silence, because this was not a carnival. Which is why she pinched the bridge of her nose when they both rose at the same time on either side of her, grinning at each other like teenagers about to do something ridiculous. _Oh, to be able to hide my thoughts,_ she lamented. The seneschal held his hand out for a snowflake, to the obvious astonishment of all present. The Hall went silent as he ran up the branch. Halfway down, he slowed to a walk, to the astonished murmurs of all...this was much harder yet, as the speed was part of what made balancing easier, and yet he strolled along as though he were on a sidewalk. With a groan, Earlene realized that now the gauntlet had been thrown down. She glanced over at Ratiri, who had that expression that seemed to say, 'Next stop, A&E.' Thranduil now held up his hand, and simply strolled to the top, his balance and footing flawless, hung his snowflake, and strolled back down. Those holding the limbs did not know whether to bow or laugh and nod their heads; fortunately they chose the latter. Earlene breathed a sigh of relief, however foolish she knew her concern had been.

The decorating now took a turn for the worse. Ellyn that were running up the branch previously now decided they, too, had to make it harder for themselves, and began to try to imitate what they had just seen. When one ended up having to lower himself hand over hand down the branch on account of slipping off, and Earlene was covering her eyes with her hands, orders were issued that put a stop to the contests. Soon, the last flake was hung, greatly increasing her ability to relax.

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek, trying to look sour and failing utterly when Thranduil came strolling down the branch. _Show-off_ , she said, barely managing to restrain a smile. His expression was oh-so-much like Pat, like Shane, like all her friends before they did something inadvisable but too tempting to pass up.

Ratiri was seriously considering trying that himself. It was a terrible idea; he'd almost certainly fall and break something, but unlike the women, he didn't have the excuse of pregnancy. He was just... _human_ , so ungainly compared to the elves, and part of him very much wanted to try.

Lorna looked at him. "Don't even," she said. "They're mentallers, you're smarter than that."

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

Thranduil rose again, and the tree limbs were swiftly carried out of the Hall to...wherever, though the ellyn bearing them returned very soon. It could not have been far. The King began to speak, explaining that it was the custom of the mortals to use a tree for this holiday and to decorate it with lights because it brought to mind that which was still green and living, and drove away thoughts of the cold winter outdoors. And that while they were all welcome to hang ornaments or trinkets of their own on the tree, that this decoration was his gift to all of them. With one wave of his hand, the lights in the Dining Hall dimmed dramatically, and with a second wave, the tree blazed to life. Elf or mortal, every pair of lips parted in astonishment, for the tree was aglow with lights that had no apparent source, and glinting colors came from everywhere within it, for a treasure trove of gems were scattered richly throughout the branches.

"Bloody hell," Ratiri breathed. Lorna could only nod, because she knew those gems had to have come from that room that was far too large to be merely called a 'vault'. How had they got up there, though, and when? Did one of these elves have telekinesis, and nobody had let on?

 _Okay, now that's_ really _showing off_ , she said, but her mental voice was warm with approval. _Kind of impossible to top that._ And, of course, she pulled out her mobile and snapped more pictures. At this rate she was going to need five scrapbooks, not one. Still, it would be worth it.

 _You are welcome,_ he said with mildly insufferable smugness. When he seated himself, he found his face pulled around; Earlene kissed him without any thought of propriety or protocol. She only wanted to thank him for something so lovely, and in this spirit it was accepted. When he broke away from her, he tried to recall if Alassëa had ever even contemplated kissing him in public, beyond what they exchanged at their marriage ceremony. He was reasonably certain that the answer was No. He glanced sideways, seeing from the expression on Thanadir's face that his friend was preparing to inform Earlene of her mistake.

 _No, meldir. Say nothing. I do not want her told. I will find a way to speak with her when she can hear it. I would ten times over have a wife who loves me and out of ignorance makes a small mistake such as this, than the alternative._

A subtle nod signalled the seneschal's understanding.

Leaning against Ratiri, Lorna grinned. " _B'í Oíche Nollaig í,_ " she sang,

 _"'S mé caochta óltach,_

 _Dúirt seanfhear 'n aice liom,_

 _Sí mo Nollaig dheireanach í._

 _'Sin thosaigh sé gabháil linn,_

 _An 'Rare Old Mountain Dew'_

 _Chrom mé mo cheann go ciúin_

 _'S mé cuimhniú ortsa."_

Earlene might recognize some of the terms in here, or so Lorna hoped. She hauled herself to her feet, grabbing Ratiri's hand and taking him with her.

 _"Nach orm a bhí an t-ádh_

 _Tháinig sí isteach go breá_

 _Airím istigh i mo chroí_

 _Gur linn an bhliain seo romhainn_

 _Ó Nollaig Shona dhuit,_

 _Is tú mo Stóirín_

 _Feabhsóidh rudaí fós_

 _Amach romhainn atá sé,"_

He had no idea what the hell she was singing, either, but she'd explain it later.

 _Cóir an NYPD 's iad_

 _ag casagh 'Galway Bay',_

 _'S na cloig ag bualadh leo_

 _Lá breith Mac Dé._

Yep, Earlene might definitely get _that_ one. It was all Lorna could do not to laugh.

 _A Sclíteach, a Chonúis,_

 _'Chacsmuitín an donais_

 _Nollaig Shona mo thóin_

 _Faraoir gan é thart_

She gave up after that, unable to stifle her laughter.

Earlene, having heard a few Pogues songs in her time (part of her buried trove of non-classical music that she would rarely own up to liking), chuckled. She was... _where_? Listening to…. _what_? Only Lorna.

And now it was time to return to their rooms. It must have been all the excitement of doing nothing at all, but Earlene felt very weak, below the waist. Her legs were telling her to go straight to hell. This time she did not wait to nearly fall, but turned to Thanadir immediately. "I do not think I can walk right now." The words were embarrassing to speak, but every day with her growing belly felt like a contest of the ocean wearing away at a cliff, and the ocean never loses; she was becoming inured to her circumstances. With a kind nod, the seneschal lifted her into his arms. With yet more humiliation, she asked to be carried to near their lavatory; she might as well minimize how far she had to try to walk. He was waiting for her when she finished. "Thank you," she said, hoping that he understood just how much those words encompassed, before he placed her down in her usual seat with the others, and seated himself next to her. He insisted on rubbing at her legs, thinking this sudden weakness to be somewhat strange.

Lorna actually managed to stubbornly lumber along, eventually leaning on Ratiri for support. "I can carry you, you know," he said. "It's not _that_ far."

"Don't you dare," she warned. "I can do this, for now." Yes, perhaps she would regret it later, but if Thranduil and Thanadir could run up that damn branch, she could make it back to his and Earlene's room, god dammit.

Ratiri seriously debated doing it anyway, but knew she would make him pay for it later, and not necessarily in the fun way. She was pale and sweating by the time they reached the room, but she'd done it, and she all but collapsed onto the sofa.

"So, in the interest of Adulting," she said, hating how out-of-breath she was, "I'm pondering retaliation. Specifically, sending him a belching chorus of swearing in English and Irish." She looked at Ratiri and Thranduil in particular, since they'd understand why. "Good or bad?"

Earlene's response was one of inner panic, at the same time she had such strong awareness that nothing about her was really working right anymore, probably her reasoning skills included. She had just enough presence of mind left to shut up. But the sentiment made her very nervous. So nervous that without being fully aware of it, she reached her hand down to hold onto Thanadir's knee. What filled her thought was, she had retaliated against Von Ratched, and it had cost John Oehlert his life.

"As hilarious as that would be, I would say bad," Ratiri said. "We can't know what it would make him do. I know you want to make him pay, mo chroí, but this isn't the way to do it."

 _Then what is?_ she wondered, and looked at Thranduil. "Thoughts?"

"I am sorry Lorna, but I am compelled to tell you what Earlene feels she cannot say. She lashed out at this creature, and the consequence was John Oehlert. And yet I do not wish to be the one who always dissuades you from how you seek to redress the wrong done to you. And yet when one throws stones at a hornet's nest, there is usually a result." His expression was one of frustration and hopelessness, because he so badly wanted her to be able to find some peace from what had been done to her.

Well, that was depressing. She leaned against Ratiri, staring into the fire. Much as she didn't want to bring the mood of the room down, her hormones were refusing to cooperate. "I want to talk to Orla," she said at last. "I want to burn down his entire world, but I can't do it myself - none'v us can." It wasn't even so much what he'd done to her, though that was a healthy chunk of it. What he'd done to Earlene, to John - what he'd do to Mairead and Big Jamie, if he was let. _I hate Adulting_ , she thought, wishing adamantly she hadn't asked, because she'd been in such a good mood. They all had. _I wonder what would happen if he got hit with napalm._ Tatiana could probably get her some. No matter how tough his body was, fire was fire, and if it was fire that couldn't be put out...but then, wasn't his original form shadow and _flame_? But that was his _original_ form; he'd have to...shift, or whatever...ugh. "Let's stuff him into a cannon and fire him into the sun."

"Would that I had a suitable cannon," Thranduil said drily, privately wondering if even that would work. For that matter would Anguirel work, as he hoped it might? He could only hope that Eöl's malice extended not only to the Noldor, but to the servants of Morgoth as well. If the ilk of Anguirel could slay a dragon, surely a balrog was a far lesser challenge?

The room fell rather silent, with Earnene releasing her grip on Thanadir's knee with a glance of apology. And she felt desperate to change the subject. "I am sure I can trust you all to keep my secret. I need help, with the ellon whose name I drew earlier in the week, if I am to have time to come up with any kind of a suitable gesture. I have only just laid eyes on him today. It is Ortherion. Could either of you ellyn please tell me something about him? What he prefers or appreciates? Or perhaps what his role here was, long ago?"

Thranduil spoke first. "At the beginning of the Fourth Age, he was considered to be an able fighter. He has skill in working with wood. I believe he preferred carving? Is that correct, Thanadir?"

The seneschal nodded. "It was some time after the Battle Under the Trees, that he wed Lothiriel. They were, by the standards of our people, young yet, and unwilling to leave their forest home. They are quiet, and loving. Their only child, a son, departed for Aman long ago."

Earlene sighed. That was as unhelpful as she feared it might be, yet aloud she thanked them.

"I'm not certain what to do for Thalion, either," Ratiri said. "I've never met him at all, though apparently he thought Lorna was mental because our word for 'lost' is the Sindarin word for 'empty'."

Lorna snorted. She didn't wonder why he'd looked at her like she was off her nut. Her eyes traveled over the fat leather book on the shelf nearest. Hey, elves loved poetry, right? "Shakespeare," she said. "Translate a sonnet or something into Sindarin. If you can find one that isn't like, a love poem or something, because that would be super creepy."

 _That_ would be a challenge, and one Ratiri might not be equal to, but he could certainly try.

"There is one that would be really good, for a fighter," said Earlene, impressed as hell and privately annoyed in equal measure, because she hadn't thought of it. "If someone can get it down for me, I think I can find it. That is, if you want to do that." She sounded vaguely hopeful, because if Ratiri didn't, she'd steal the idea in a hot minute.

Thranduil wanted so badly to give Lorna something to feel good about that he broke his own rule. _My wife is extremely jealous that she did not think of your suggestion, Lorna. I thought you should know._ He smiled, with merriment in his eyes. Lorna managed to contain her own smile, but barely, her spirits lifted.

Ratiri rose, fetching the book and handing it to her. "I certainly can't think of a better idea," he said. "If I had more time, I'd get him a Claymore, but unfortunately that's not an option."

Earlene riffled through the pages, realizing that (thank god) the index was the kind that gave the sonnets by opening verses as well as by number. "Here. It's number fifty-five," she said, handing it over. The good news is, you have two here who can help you with that task." She handed the volume to Thanadir, which really amounted to, shoving it across her stomach at him.

Ratiri took the book, reading through it. It was mercifully brief, but it was still going to be a bitch and a half; he was most definitely going to need help. The only thing more difficult than trying to translate modern English into Sindarin was try to translate Elizabethan. "I'll see what I can do," he said, determined.

"Maerwen's getting a scarf," Lorna said, "because it's just about all I can make right now. At least I've got nice yarn." It was actually antique yarn, too, older than she was - soft, dark green cashmere Gran had somehow kept pristine.

 _What on Earth am I going to do for Ortherion with only a few days remaining, whittle a butler's measuring stick? Because *that* wouldn't be tacky...I can knit potholders and scarves. I can prepare food when I can stand upright and...I really didn't get out much, did I? I doubt he needs a lawyer._ Her mood felt like it was spiralling rapidly. "I hope you can all excuse me, I really feel like I need to be in warm water right now." _If I can walk there without falling on my face._ Thanadir helped her to stand, at which point Thranduil brought her where she wished to go. He could feel her emotions crumbling, but she had a right to her feelings. This was difficult, and he understood her frustration. For once, he elected not to comment or interfere. After helping her undress, he lowered her into the warm water. Knowing she wanted really to be alone, he kissed her cheek. "Tell me, when you wish to get out, and I will help you." Magically, a full glass of cool water was left behind as he departed, next to the pool. Where it had come from or how he possibly could have carried it in here unseen served to distract her for several minutes, until her thoughts returned to moroseness and she gave way to tears.

Lorna broke out her knitting, working at the scarf while Ratiri rubbed her feet. That poor Earlene had so abruptly left probably meant her hormones were on a downswing, so it was best to leave her until she actually asked for help - or at least, that was how Lorna had always found it to be in her own case: _go away until I want you_.

Thanadir looked at Lorna, and reflected on Earlene's leaving. And how quick it was. He did not know if this was wise or not, but she was his friend, and had not been able to even walk tonight. He rose, without a word, and marched toward the bathing room, opening the door very quietly to find her crying. Her back was turned to him, her head buried in her folded arms at the side of the pool. With a deep breath, he removed his outer coat, lest more water than he wished be involved, and laid down on his stomach in front of her, reaching to take one of her hands in his. Her eyes blinked opened, and she reached to hold onto his arms. She felt like quite possibly the greatest emotional failure on the planet, and was past caring. When she felt his head touch against hers, very gently, she did not shrink away. Ordinarily she would have thought she wanted to be alone, but somehow this was like...if Tail came in. Someday she might work out why she reacted to this elf as she did. Or rather, didn't react. _Oh, fuck it all._ She still cried for awhile, because the misery had to drain to somewhere else. Nothing was going to change, not tomorrow or next week or even next month. Snivelling, she finally sighed, and tried to wash her face with water. "I feel better now," she whispered, though she sounded unconvincing even to herself.

"I do not believe you," he murmured in return. Which was just funny, and made her giggle in spite of herself. Or at least, that was her term for the noise that emitted from her throat.

"I am trying to feel better now?" she asked. That felt less like a fabrication.

"That, I can take into consideration," he said, smiling at her just a little. And then he had an idea. "Earlene, you can read very well. When you are done in here, would you come out and read some of the poems to me, from my Shakespeare book? I am not skilled enough in that form of your language; you read much it better than I."

He was using the doe eyes on her.

"You are not being fair, meldir. You know perfectly well what you are doing." She wanted to glare at him, but that was failing, too.

"Does that mean you will read to me?" He was unabashedly using all of his secret powers.

"Oh, by Eru, you win," she said, exasperated but laughing too. "Go on now, and if you could please ask Thranduil to come in? I would like to have just a few more minutes."

He rose, retrieving his coat and making his way out. "Thanadir, thank you," he heard as he opened the door. Turning his head partway back, he smiled and nodded, before disappearing. Earlene shook her head, and splashed her face properly, and blew her nose now that he was gone, because she still had some standards left. Pushing back to sink further into the water, it only now occurred to her that she was not wearing a stitch of clothing. _Yeah. I have standards, alright. What happened to my life, exactly?_ But at least now she was snorting. Swimming around a little, she enjoyed being able to actually move freely, before that went away too. _Nothing like knowing I couldn't haul myself out of here unless my life depended on it,_ she thought.

"That is why you have me, meluieg," she heard from behind her. "Sit against the side, facing away from me." Seconds later, her bottom was perched on a folded towel on the edge, her lower legs still in the pool. He wrapped her with a dry towel, before lifting her the rest of the way to her feet. And he did not let go; he could feel how weak and unsteady her limbs were.

"Why is this happening to me?" she asked.

"The children are pressing against the nerves that govern your walking. It should be temporary," he said, drying her. When she was seated, he held out the much looser night tunic she sometimes wore, and a warm robe to go over it, and she was returned to the room, with her legs draped over Thanadir's lap again. Seemingly from nowhere, he produced the heavy volume, handing it to her.

It took a moment, but she finally found what she wanted and began reading. "To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were, when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still…"

Ratiri listened, soothed by the cadence of Earlene's voice, lightly rubbing Lorna's feet. She had fallen asleep, her knitting on her chest, and he gently took it from her so she couldn't lose any stitches. She'd regret sleeping on her back later, but he couldn't bring himself to rouse her - for once, she seemed quite comfortable, sleeping without the aid of any Elvish concoction. She was entering the last and worst stage of her pregnancy, as far as discomfort was concerned, and he wished there was more he could do to ease it. She was so _tiny_ , her hips so narrow...he would carry her around in a sling, if he was able and she was actually willing. While she needed a certain measure of exercise, even the walk here from the Dining Hall had all but felled her.

She shifted in her sleep, frowning, brows drawn together. If she was having a nightmare, he had to wake her, though he didn't want to - she never seemed to remember them in the morning, and he'd rather she not start.

 _Does this happen often?_ Thranduil asked Ratiri, gesturing to Lorna.

 _I wouldn't say often, but more often than I'd like_ , Ratiri said. _Whatever she's dreaming about, she never remembers it, but she's hit me more than once in her sleep. Though the sleep-talking is the creepiest. I'd known it could happen, but I'd never seen it before. You think she's awake, until you realize you're having two different conversations._

 _If I may ask, what does she talk about?_

 _That_ was the truly unsettling thing. _Murder_ , Ratiri said. _I've never seen her look like that when she's awake, but she's almost...reptilian, I would call it. It's like she's a different person. I know she's had anger issues in the past, and that she has a very good reason to want to kill someone, but it's still unsettling. Eventually she falls back and sleep and wakes up, and that's that. Could she be remembering something? Something we'd all rather she not?_

 _There is no 'could', it is exactly what is happening, for I can see what she is dreaming of. I do not know what to do. These images should not be there. I do not want them there, it is bad for the children; her body is filled with stress from her thoughts. And yet this will not kill anyone, so to speak. I am deeply reluctant to act without her explicit consent. Ratiri, perhaps this is something you could do. Tell her what is happening, and that it would be better were this taken from her. There is no benefit to her enduring this in her sleep. And perhaps she could hear it from you, more than me._ What he did not speak aloud was a fear, based on a very uncertain guess, that another possibility was occurring. That whatever had been done to her to block her memory, was fading. He hoped he was wrong, and he hoped that perhaps he would be allowed to eradicate this cancer before that could become an issue. He sighed. Being good, at times, was so very difficult. He could have said nothing, and no one but him would ever have known. And yet, he had learned a thing or two about mortals and deception. He shook his head, though the motion was so subtle only he could see it.

 _I will_ , Ratiri said, still rubbing her feet. _I'm glad she doesn't remember them, because they can be so violent, and God has she scared me a few times. They were so infrequent up until recently, but they're getting worse, and I'm sure she'll listen._ She trusted Thranduil, even with what he'd done to knock her out...Ratiri hoped. There was no reason she shouldn't listen, at any rate. Or so he believed.


	51. Chapter 51

The next morning woke Ratiri with a punch to the face.

It was not the first time Lorna had hit him in her sleep, though it was definitely the hardest. He winced, touching his jaw; he'd have a bruise there later, he was sure.

Lorna herself hadn't woken - she'd actually fallen back into deeper sleep, sprawled across his chest, breath warm against his skin. Even pregnant and only nominally ambulatory, she had a hit like a longshoreman.

Carefully he eased himself out from beneath her, heading to the loo for a cold compress. He hadn't actually told her she'd been doing this, but maybe he ought to. He had to talk her into letting Thranduil help with her nightmares, sooner rather than later.

When he emerged back into the bedroom, he saw she was not only awake, but grey-faced, her mouth a hard line. She looked at him, her expression somehow a cross between a kitten and a wolverine. "Ow," she said - it was all she said, a sound somehow both irate and pathetic.

"What is it?" he asked, coming around the bed.

"Legs," she said, this word rather more pathetic than irate. "What happened to you?" Her eyes flicked over his face, but there would be no bruise yet.

"You did," he said, with a slight laugh. "You hit me."

Lorna winced. She hadn't done that in years - there had been a few times she'd hit Liam in her sleep, but she'd thought all that was behind her. "Christ, allanah, I'm so sorry. Let me see." She moved to sit up, and immediately regretted it; pain lanced through both her legs, hot and sharp and shockingly intense. She clamped her teeth together, head falling back on the pillow. What in mother _fuck_ was this shite? It was so intense it was nauseating, climbing up her nerves and into her back. " _Ow_. What the fuck?"

"It's nothing dangerous," Ratiri said soothingly. "It happens sometimes, with pregnancy." He fetched her the cordial Thranduil had given them, so that he need not get called in every time she had a headache or cramp. Unlike most medicines, it actually tasted good - a bit like oranges, according to her.

Lorna sighed with relief almost immediately, and Ratiri wondered how the hell that actually worked. With any normal oral medicine, it would take at least a little time to absorb into her system, but this seemed nearly instantaneous.

That it worked so swiftly meant he didn't hesitate with his next words. "Lorna, this isn't the first time you've hit me in your sleep," he said, sitting on the bed beside her. "You have nightmares that you obviously don't remember, and they're getting more frequent. I want Thranduil to deal with them for you."

Lorna's eyes narrowed. "Thranduil," she said, "is not a magical Band-Aid." His words of some days ago came to her - that she'd been using him without knowing. Obviously he _would_ know now, and would probably agree to it, but it seemed such a trivial use of his abilities. While she certainly didn't want to be hitting Ratiri in her sleep, she also didn't want Thranduil in her head like that yet again. She'd been relying on him so much to deal with her mental issues that she was a bit ashamed of herself, honestly. It meant she wasn't actually dealing with things herself - she was just fobbing her problems off on someone who could deal out a quick fix, no muss, fuss, or effort on her part. And that just seemed _wrong_.

"No, but he wants to help," Ratiri said - a mistake, because her hormone-amplified temper flared.

"You talked to him about this before you talked to me," she said flatly. "You went behind my back and told _him_ , but not me?"

"Not on purpose," Ratiri said. "You were having one when you took a nap last night, and it just rather...came up. He's worried, too."

"How long have I been having these?" she demanded, sitting up straighter.

He sighed. "Going on three months, now. At first they were infrequent, but they're getting worse."

Lorna stared at him. "Ratiri," she said, "this shite has been going on for _three fucking months_ , and you didn't think to, I don't know, _tell me_?"

"I didn't think you needed to know," he said, realizing this whole situation was going south. "You didn't remember them."

Her stare turned into a glower, rage that was somewhat shocking in its intensity coursing through her. "Didn't need to know?" she repeated. " _Didn't need to fucking know?_ What in mother fuck gives you the right to decide what I do and don't know about myself?"

"You're being dramatic," he said. "I didn't want you to worry. You've got so much on your mind already."

He did have a point - there was logic behind his decision, but it was still bloody _wrong_ , and Lorna's rage and her hormones weren't going to accept it. "You don't get to do that," she snarled. "You don't get to decide what's best for me, like I'm some bloody goddamn child. I am sick to fucking death'v people lecturing me - don't you fucking tell me I'm being 'dramatic'."

Ratiri rose. "You _are_ ," he said, glaring at her - she'd never seen him look like that before, at her or anyone else. "I'm sorry, Lorna, but your judgment really is impaired right now. You didn't need the stress this would have added - that it's adding now, obviously. You need to see Thranduil. This isn't something you should be dealing with on your own." He was right and he knew it, but he knew already he wasn't going to make her _see_ that right now. Even without the hormones she was stubborn as a bloody mule.

"I," she said, swinging her legs off the bed, "don't _need_ to do anything except take a piss. I swear to Christ you just get more and more bloody controlling the longer this goes on. 'Eat this, don't eat that'. 'Do this, don't do that.' The un-bloody-spoken 'You're incompetent and can't function without me hovering.' I'm tired'v everybody fucking telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing."

"You wouldn't take care of yourself if someone didn't make you," Ratiri snapped. "You'd be drinking caffeine and eating all the wrong things, and putting those children and yourself in danger."

"I'd. Be. _Fine_ ," she growled. "I wouldn't be eating bloody rabbit food like you've got me on, but I'm not stupid, Ratiri. It's not like I'd go inhaling salty chips if you weren't looking over my god damn shoulder."

"I've been doing everything I can for you," he said, his ire rising. " _Everything_."

"Including treat me like a fucking child," Lorna retorted. "You think I don't appreciate it? You think I haven't been trying so much myself, to give you what you deserve - what I've never given anyone else, because I didn't know how? I'm not sitting on my arse just taking from you, Ratiri Duncan. I thought you'v all people'd see that."

"I can't read your mind, Lorna, so how the hell would I know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, genuinely wounded under her anger. "And here's me, thinking I'd showed you. Thinking I'd said so, even though I'm shite at using my words. Apparently I'm even worse at it than I thought."

"Stop," he said. "Just...stop."

That only added petrol to her smoldering rage. "Quit. Telling. Me. What. To. _Do_ ," she snarled, and even through her fury, even through a level of wrath that burned as hot as ever it had before Thranduil and Thanadir had fixed her mind, she knew she had to get out of there. She knew with full certainty that if she didn't, Ratiri was going to get hit, and she couldn't live with herself if she did that.

She stalked into the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands, but her ire didn't cool. If anything, it intensified, focusing down into a needle-fine point that stabbed in a headache behind her left eye.

"Get out," she said, when she returned to the room. "Just _get out_."

Ratiri stared at her before shaking his head, muttering something she wished she hadn't heard: "Try harder." Out he went, and she had no doubt at all that he was off to get Thranduil, that he was ignoring and patronizing her.

Fuck. That.

She couldn't lock the door - he had a key - but she shoved the sofa against it. Even Thranduil would have a job of getting _that_ open.

She wanted a drink. Oh _God_ , she wanted a drink. Somehow, even with the pain cordial, her headache was intensifying, her vision blurry. In years past her temper had done this to her, but it was worse now, possibly because it had been so long.

But something - something inside her, something within her mind - was... _cracking_. It was the oddest sensation she'd ever felt, and with it came an inexplicable spike of terror. This was - what _was_ this?

 _This was a scent, dark and earthy and distinctive, one she'd hoped she'd never encounter again. It was horrifying, and yet now there was something hypnotic in it._

 _Lorna had never let herself think about what Von Ratched had actually done to her, because it would help nothing - she'd assumed it was something disgusting and degrading that he'd made her enjoy, and left it at that. What she remembered now was neither._

 _It hadn't occurred to her to wonder how Thranduil could know the fucker's motivations behind his 'gifts' when it was her memory, but she knew it now. The son of a bitch had told her how beautiful she was, how lovely she'd smelled and tasted - had wrung climax after climax out of her until she'd screamed herself hoarse, his hands and his mouth everywhere, taking her like a lover would, like_ Ratiri _would, and she'd_ loved _it. She'd loved the way he felt, the things he did to her - all the things she liked best, pulled from her memories. She'd cried out for him, his name - his true name, helpless in the sheer strength of her desire. He hadn't forced her to enjoy being degraded, he'd forced her to feel like she was the most desirable thing in the world, so careful with her she might as well have been made of china. And what she'd_ felt _...what she'd_ wanted _...Christ, what she'd_ begged _for...he'd manipulated her mind and driven her to heights that wouldn't have been possible without telepathic influence, and the force of it, so at war with her revulsion, drove her to her knees, clutching her head._

Lorna wasn't actually aware that she was screaming - she was too lost in the nightmare of her own memory, her mind horrified almost to breaking point.

When an eye opened, Earlene found herself alone in their room, though the fire had been lit. Not sort-of alone, but truly alone; Allanah was not in her crib and there were no sounds in the outer room. Lying there, she began to review the new heights of pathos to which she had ascended yesterday. As near as she could tell, the highlights were losing the ability to safely walk unaided even a little, and having a complete meltdown in the bathing pool without even realizing the seneschal was six inches from her nose. Her nose attached to her bare naked body, not that that actually mattered, but surely it might be nice to at least recall one's own state of nudity? _Fuck this. You've always tried to work things out on your own, Earlene. Figure it out._ With an edge of determination, she threw off the bedclothes, and swung herself to the edge of the mattress, tentatively testing her strength. Not good. _Fine. If Allanah can get around this way, so can I. In fact, I'd wager I did this once too._ And she carefully lowered herself onto all fours, which actually wasn't that difficult since her legs seemed to want to go to jelly anyhow, but it was done in a controlled fashion. And she crawled toward the lavatory, realizing that _this_ she could do fine, _this_ she could do on her own. Her upper body was strong, easily powerful enough to help her uncooperative legs to get herself to the toilet. Pink-faced but actually not feeling like a useless lump for the first time in days, she enjoyed the blessed happiness of peeing out a full bladder, even as she began to reprove herself.

 _You know, you ought to be bloody ashamed of how you've been acting. What about people who find out they have MS, or ALS, or any of those other horrible conditions that put a person in a wheelchair and take away all use of their body? And it will never get better for them, except when they pass on from this life? The only thing wrong with you is the two beautiful and immortal daughters you are being given by your elven husband. Two little girls that you'll get to meet somewhere inside the next four months, give or take. And you have the gall to turn into a whinging pile of self-pity? Badly done, Earlene. Badly done. Thanadir might sympathize with your shite, but goddammit if you should be okay with this. How did the Ice Queen look yesterday, blubbering away over nothing? Just, keep your perspective, lady. Yes, it's been hard, but you've got nothing on other people's problems._

Feeling mentally readjusted, she cleaned herself and washed her hands, simply resting her abdomen on the ridge of the basin while she did so. Frowning, she caught sight of her hands. _These fingernails have got to go, and the only clipper I can think of is at the cottage. Didn't he say once, that elves don't have to trim their fingernails, or something? Surely they at least have to file them, on occasion?_ With a shrug, she lowered herself back down and crawled up, raising herself up like a prairie dog at the entrance to the bedroom. Yesterday's dress was nowhere in sight, perhaps Thranduil had left it in the bathing room? _Screw that._ She crawled to the wardrobe, and opened the door to the side that held her expanding collection of dresses. And given that there was only one other choice that was both clean and able to fit on her swollen body, that reduced the options. With a few flicks of her wrist she was able to cause the garment to release from its hanging device, and fall on her. Sitting on her own heels, she pulled her tunic off and the dress on, slowly beginning the process of adjusting the laces. The top ones had to be loosened before her breasts could be shoved where they needed to be. Allanah was not nursing quite so much, and her ampleness had reduced by a little, but not enough to suit her. For all her best efforts, and in spite of having on Thanadir's milk-absorbing garment underneath, she was left with a cleavage worthy of the seediest Renaissance Faire costume. She poked at her bosom hopelessly, trying to stuff it further inside her clothing, and burst into laughter. This is how Thranduil found her. Giggling, on the floor, and with Huge Tracts of Land quite prominently displayed and jiggling enticingly. Even though he could read her mind, he approached cautiously, not understanding this new development.

"Meluieg?" he asked, kneeling down next to her, silently enjoying his view. He kissed her and gently embraced her.

"Good morning, Thranduil," she said. "Could you take me to a chair, please? Adjusting my clothing is not going so well, down here.

Privately, he thought it was adjusted to perfection. "Of course," he smiled, already feeling a stirring in his breeches. "But meluieg, I would be remiss not to inform you that the sight of you has already created the beginnings of lust. You are very beautiful, today. Too beautiful," he said wistfully.

Earlene laughed. "Well I cannot walk, but I can get by on all fours just fine. I am certain you could manage to do something, with that?" she said mischievously, before her voice softened. "Please, have me. You will feel better, and so will I." To emphasize, she was already tugging loose the laces of his clothing, caressing him.

"I do not think this will take long," he said, his voice growing husky even as his hands roved under and over her clothing. She kissed him luxuriously as he freed himself and then anchored herself on the soft and thick carpet, soon feeling his hands on her and the warmth that spread from them. If there was one thing she wished she could bottle and share with other human women, it was this gift of his to arouse desire. How he could take general amorous interest and shape it into intense physical lust in under a minute by the touch of his fingers; a great many would likely give much to have such a privilege. And it only increased and amplified, when his manhood replaced his long and dextrous fingers. The electric sensations of his movements inside of her, so blindingly intense...she did not resist the climax that tore through her, followed by the sounds of his own release. He raised his body, pulling her back against him, onto him, holding her tightly against the onslaught of his pleasure. Twisting around in his arms, she sought to kiss him.

"I love you, Thranduil. More than I can say, more than anything."

"And I you, Earlene." His face was buried in her neck, taking in the scent of her hair, appreciating the warmth of her body, but most of all feeling waves of love for her willing spirit. "Thank you," he said, raising her off of him. He carried her to the requested chair and kissed her, before restoring his clothing to order. "I am not so skilled as Thanadir, but perhaps I can help with your dress? Or at least try?"

She nodded gratefully, because the other laces were in the back, where she had little hope of reaching them in spite of her flexibility. Right now she would likely agree to anything at all, so pleasant was the sensation that lingered in her body.

"Meluieg," he continued carefully, "there is something I was asked...to do, by Ratiri. He wants your help but is embarrassed."

"Then it has to do with sex?" Earlene chuckled. _Three guesses and two don't count, with those two._

Thranduil grinned. Clearly his wife's powers of analysis were intact, at least for the moment. "Ah, yes. I need not tell you that this is a matter needing the greatest discretion?"

"It's about sex _and_ Lorna doesn't know he's asking for help?" she quipped, a mischievous eye looking up at him.

"By the Valar, Earlene, which one of us can read minds?" he joked, laughing. "Yes, you have assessed the situation correctly."

"And what is this matter that requires help?" Her tone now was shot through with complete amusement.

"Well, if I understand correctly…"

"Thranduil. Out with it. If those two are influencing you, I shall become cross."

His rumbling laugh ran through her with a thrill, as he hugged her against him. "Very well. Lorna has apparently become insatiable in her level of desire, and Ratiri is not an ellon. He would like to find a means to satisfy her that does not involve the full use of his own body, and is at a loss."

"Well, there are about ten thousand sex toys available for sale. Why doesn't he order some? You know, like Siobhan's dildo, except something a woman would actually want brought near her?"

"I believe that is the crux of the question, Earlene. He does not know what items might fit that latter definition. Lorna clearly did not approve of her friend's gift, and he is therefore...very uncertain as to what if anything could please her."

"Ohhhh. Well why didn't you say so in the first place?"

She caught a grimace on his face. "Honestly, meluieg, I felt uncertain about your views on...contrivances. You have not seemed interested in…"

Earlene laughed harder. "And clarity washes down from on high," she giggled. "Thranduil, it is not that I could not be interested in them. It is that you are so good as a lover, and your own anatomy is so incredibly satisfying to me that I have had little incentive to try. But if it would please you to use Siobhan's toy, or anything like it, I am willing. You only need procure it when you wish. That is," she said with a frown,"if you know where it even is, I confess I lost track of it."

"I put it away," he admitted with a slight blush. "And thank you for telling me so plainly. As well as for the compliment. But this does not answer Ratiri's question?"

"Ah. Well, unfortunately I am not very experienced with such products. Which is to say, not experienced at all. But I will own up to having done some reading. There are many kinds, that do many things. One class of them uses batteries, to create vibration or other...motion, either externally or internally. They appear to be very popular, because it does not matter what size of item one chooses; the vibration alone brings a woman to climax. I would guess that it is something like what you are able to do to my body, except...a little different. Lorna seems to be a no-frills kind of woman. Surely something like that, not in a garish color? There are products that are made to feel soft, like the consistency of a real male member. If the reviews are to be believed, women cannot tell them apart from their partners, once warmed and...inserted. If you wish, I will go online and find some suggestions for him, but I would need to do this at the cottage."

Thranduil smiled, happy that his faith in her comfort with this subject had not been misplaced. "I think he would appreciate that very much, meluieg. I ordinarily would not willingly involve myself in this, but…"

"But Lorna is a total handful even when she isn't miserably pregnant, they have no Thanadir, and Ratiri is barely treading water as time goes on?"

 _By Eru, does she know my thoughts? No, it is impossible…_ "Something like that," he said, afraid to say too much.

Earlene tilted her head. "I will not inquire further, I know you cannot break your confidences. I hope you know, too...I do not mind, should you want or need to tell others things about me. There are only a few very private matters...things that have transpired between us as King and subject, or things you have seen in me about my brother...that I would not ever want shared without my consent. I trust your judgement, and that you know enough about me to perceive the difference."

He had just finished adjusting the laces on her dress, and his eyes widened to hear this. Her words essentially absolved him of more than one occasion on which he had strayed out of bounds. He knelt down in front of her. "Thank you, for what you have said here." Earlene could not resist leaning forward to kiss him. He was so, so beautiful.

"You are welcome, but it will cost you something," she teased. "Find me a clean undergarment? Please?"

He threw his head back and laughed. _How did I ever believe I loved Alassëa?_ They had never had any of this, between them. Only sex, and finery, and the shared willingness to parent their son. And for just a flashing moment, a sorrowful thought crept in. _And one I had for centuries, and the other I will have for only a few decades, if I am very fortunate._ It felt very unfair, and yet he would not have changed his mind. He found and brought what she asked for, and raised her up so that she could finish dressing. "Time to eat," he said, hearing the noises of Thanadir and Ortherion in the next room, and lifting her into his arms. He moved through the doorway, and his eyes widened at the exchange assaulting his awareness from Lorna and Ratiri. "Thanadir," he said aloud. "Something requires my attention, will you please?"

Earlene frowned, but did not resist as she was taken into the seneschal's arms. She dissembled as though she did not realize that something had just happened to mightily grab at her husband's notice. "Aur vaer (good day), Hîr vuin, Ortherion," she said with all the politeness she could muster, as she held onto Thanadir's shoulders. Thranduil left their rooms in an obvious hurry. She was seated on the sofa, only now realizing that Allanah was still nowhere to be seen. "Allanah…?"

"Adh Lothiriel, Hiril vuin," (with Lothiriel) said Ortherion kindly, causing her to turn her full attention to the ellon.

With an appreciative nod, she thanked him. "Len hannon," she said. "Thank you," she added slowly.

"Thank you," he imitated carefully.

Earlene nodded. "Len, you. Hannon, I thank."

Ortherion looked at her appreciatively, glancing furtively at Thanadir to perceive if this was permitted, to speak with the queen. Earlene did not wait, and spoke with pleading eyes. "Thanadir, I hope that it is allowed, for Ortherion to converse when he comes here. Else he will never learn any English. Please?"

Thanadir frowned, but then laughed to realize she was doing to him as he did to her, and sighed. "It would not usually be considered proper decorum, Earlene, but times are changing. Have changed. What you ask is practical, and kind. I will not interfere." And to the other ellon, he elaborated on what the queen had just said. With a look of both delight and relief, Ortherion smiled. "Thank you," he repeated again. And now Earlene knew exactly what to do for this ellon. There were no written materials, to explain English to a native Sindarin speaker, and clearly none of the others had Thanadir's staggering intellect. It would be a great effort, but she had more than a week's time, to try and translate much of her grammar file into something that could aid him to learn English. She would ask Thanadir to help her. Her time for the next many days would be beyond spoken for.

Thranduil strode down the passages, almost but not quite running. He encountered Maerwen outside Lorna's door, pushing lightly against the obstructed portal. She was capable of shifting it, but did not know what was the matter or if she should. At the sight of her King rounding the corner, she curtsied and lowered her head.

"Aliathon, Maerwen. Gwanno." (I will help, Maerwen. Go (lit.='depart'.) The words were rushed but spoken with kindness. He was obeyed immediately, and with a single push of his hand, opened the door as though a sofa were not blocking it. There was no consideration or hesitation; he ran across the room with a tiger's grace to see Lorna crumpled on the floor, and with a touch sent her into unconsciousness. He pulled her into his arms and cried with rage and hurt, knowing it was the one time he would have the luxury of doing this while holding her. And with those tears came a blazing resolve. If there were consequences, he would pay them, but this memory would never harm her again. He did what he should have done last night, and laid his hand on her head to burn any recollection of these memories from her mind. While he held and rocked her, he prayed to the Valar on his knees that they be given the chance to undo their enemy. Pleaded as he never had before, with his eyes squeezed shut, for something he desired.

A blaze of light seared across his closed eyes, which opened in disbelief. An ethereal figure of mighty presence stood before him, his hair a flowing white-blonde lighter than his own. An openwork crown of spreading wings graced his brow, and a mantle of midnight blue covered robes of pale turquoise with scrolling trimwork. His eyes blazed with the light of the skies above, and terrible power emanated from him. In the stillness of the room, the air moved, charged with force. "My Lord," Thranduil spoke, lowering his head even as he held Lorna protectively against him.

"You are surprised, Aran Thranduil?" spoke the sonorous voice of the Lord of the Wind. "Then again, it has been long, even as we count the passing of time, has it not?" That neither the words nor the tone were unkind, imparted to Thranduil some courage. He raised his eyes once again.

"I did not expect…" he trailed off, overwhelmed and at a loss for speech.

"To receive a response to your prayer? We have watched you, and watched over you, in your long years of isolation, little one. And now perhaps something has arisen which brings our purposes into alignment. Something for which we have long waited."

"My Lord Manwë?" Thranduil asked, awash in confusion.

"I will speak plainly to you, last of the Elvenkings to grace Eru's creation. You have beseeched us for something. And yet there is something we would ask of you in return. Will you hear our price, for granting that this creature, the one known to us as Avathar, will be made vulnerable to you?"

"Yes, my Lord," even as he experienced a sinking feeling that he would not like this.

A sonorous and merry laugh came from the King of the Valar. "Know that you are dearly loved, Aran Thranduil, as are all those of the Firstborn in your care and keeping. And even these of the Secondborn, who have taught you so much." His attention diverted for a moment, Manwë reached out his arms, silently asking for Lorna. With a pounding heart, Thranduil handed her over with reluctance, not daring to refuse. "Though we bargain with you," Manwë said sadly, "do not think we have been without sympathy. None of Avathar's deeds ever should have occurred. That he escaped destruction, by accident or oversight, has displeased us greatly. Your courage is beyond question, my friend. As is that of this fragile tiny one." The dazzling Ainu spoke with tender regard, before he leaned forward to kiss Lorna's forehead. Thranduil stared in open astonishment, as he received her back into his arms, fixed by Manwë's eyes. "Our price is that you do what should have been done long ago, Thranduil. You will lead your people to come home. Home to Aman, where they belong."

"Earlene," Thranduil whispered, in a flash of understanding. "Those times a strangeness came over her…"

"Yes. You are yet given many years, as the humans count them, little one. Enjoy your children, mortal and peredhel. Watch them grow. See what you will see, in the world of the Secondborn. In time, you will understand with finality why we have asked this of you. Before the years granted to your wife have reached an end, you will be led home."

"I cannot leave her," Thranduil gasped, tears welling into his eyes. "Please…I love Earlene." His heart was wrenching apart; his duty to his people was clear, and yet to require this of him….

"No, little one. You misunderstand. You will not leave her. She will show you the way; Earlene is my vessel, sanctified to me. Did you never wonder, how out of all mortal females in the world, she came to you?" He smiled, before his face took on grave seriousness. "I will have your answer, Thranduil. What do you choose?"

He had never felt more bewildered in his life, except perhaps on the day Oropher had died and the magnitude of his new obligations were washing over him. There was no choice here, and he knew it. One did not refuse the Valar, without grave consequences. They did not ask on a whim, and to ignore their will had always been a precursor to tragedy. His head bowed deeply in submission. "I yield to your bidding, my Lord. I give my promise to do as you require."

The Vala smiled. "We hear it, and accept your vow. Be vigilant. We rejoice, to know that we will see you soon. Blessings, Aran Thranduil." He felt a touch under his jaw that raised his head, and the lips that pressed to his brow. In its wake he felt a powerful yearning.

With a wind that moved through the room, the Lord was gone. For a very long time, Thranduil remained frozen, kneeling on the carpet, holding Lorna to him. Tears splashed from his eyes. Though it was subsiding, muting into something bearable, he knew what this yearning was and why it had been given.

For now, there was only one to whom he could confide this, and whose counsel he would accept. His head absolutely reeled, and he desperately wanted wine. Slowly, he rose, carrying Lorna. She would sleep for many hours yet, and he had obligations. Deeply stunned and shaken, he absentmindedly pushed the sofa back into place and tried to compose himself as he brought Lorna back to his own rooms.

Rarely in his life had Ratiri been well and truly furious. He was, by and large, a peaceable man, with the patience that was called for to be a good pediatrician. But this - all of this - had been slowly taking its toll for months, and Lorna was the last straw. She wasn't stubborn, she was downright pigheaded, and Ratiri knew he was going to have to fetch Thranduil, since she wouldn't go on her own - but not yet. He needed to work some of this out first, so he went to the training hall, fuming.

It was empty as ever, and he took up a sword, running through the warm-up exercises Thanadir had taught him. He'd hoped the action would calm him, but it only made him more furious, and he went after a dummy with cold precision. The weight of the weapon in his hands did help, but not by much.

He always had to be the calm one, the steady one - had always needed to, all his life, to balance out his larger-that-life parents. He'd been the calm one with Katherine, though she hadn't been anywhere near as volatile as Lorna. And now there was Lorna, pigheaded and occasionally astoundingly immature. He was not, just now, able to think about how far she'd actually come, and how much of a disadvantage she'd been at before she met him. Yes, she was trying, but sometimes, in his darkest moments, it just didn't seem like enough.

So he stabbed and he sliced, working through the drills as Thanadir had shown him, a kind of violent meditation that shut out his anger, his stress, his fear that they may well be trapped in here forever. The Halls were beautiful beyond anything he ever could have imagined, but he was human. He needed sky, and he had to admit he missed ready electricity. He missed many things about the human world - Guinness, and pub sandwiches; the internet, his mobile; the ability to drive where he wished, or to drive at all. He'd lived in the modern world too long - if he'd been dropped here as a kid, he'd have turned his back on modernity without a second thought, but now...now it was harder. And he was quite annoyed with himself for it, because it told him just how spoiled he'd been without realizing it.

And he worried about the twins. Thranduil had staggering powers of healing, but unless he could actually rearrange the human skeleton, Lorna could well have serious complications. Obviously he could manipulate...some things...but could he widen a pelvis? If not, she might need a C-section - and he was not qualified to do it. Oh, he _knew_ how, but he'd never done it; it wasn't his specialty. And even if he'd been qualified, he had none of the tools necessary. He didn't know Lorna's blood type, and he was not a universal donor. If Earlene wasn't, either, a transfusion wasn't an option - because he highly doubted Elves and humans had compatible blood types.

He hacked the head off the dummy, watching it fall to the ground with a _thud_. The scent of dried straw wafted through the air, and he felt a bit ashamed of himself. Thranduil dealt with so much more than he did, and never even seemed impatient - but then, it wasn't like Ratiri saw him all the time; perhaps he too had to come and take his frustrations out on a dummy or five.

Thranduil walked past Earlene and Thanadir bearing Lorna to the sofa in their bedroom, placing her on it. Earlene's head jerked up, her eyes widening, but one look at Thranduil's face caused any words to die on her lips. He returned, and obviously spoke silently to his seneschal, and the two of them made to leave. _I love you, my King,_ she said silently to him. Thranduil stopped, and turned back to gaze on her. Without breaking his eye contact, he walked to where she sat and leaned down to kiss her. It was a demanding kiss, one that insisted she yield to him. She did not need to understand, but calmly gave him what he wished, reaching up to caress his cheek. He already knew that she was here to support him in whatever manner. Or at least, she hoped so. Just as abruptly, he turned and stormed out with Thanadir in tow. Though there were offices, he preferred a location where no one would disturb them; his seneschal's rooms would suffice.

When he entered, the mask he had held over his emotions crumbled. "Thanadir," he whispered, with an agitation the seneschal could only recall seeing once before. Cautiously, Thanadir reached for his monarch, drawing him close. Thranduil touched their foreheads together, and proceeded to disgorge everything that had happened to him, every word that was spoken. When he broke away, he crumpled onto Thanadir's sofa. "Meldir, I feel lost," he said with uncharacteristic lack of control. "And afraid."

Thanadir sat next to him, now equally stunned, and carefully placed a hand on Thranduil's shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Surely, my King, this is a great blessing? We have been…" he did not wish to say the wrong thing. "We have been apart from our people, and from our Lords, for a very long time. And we are yet granted years here, with our mortal friends? I will not fear to go, wherever you lead me."

"My faithful brother," the King said, grateful for his steadying presence, breathing a sigh. "I feel too that I can face our future. Indeed I must; I have vowed to obey them, and it is no accident that the longing for Aman was placed in my heart. It is...what do I tell Earlene? Do I tell her anything? And what of Ratiri, and Lorna? This will affect them, and yet I would spare them the anxiety of what is to come. If I barely understand, how do I expect them to?"

Thanadir considered very carefully, choosing his next words with great caution. "My King, you know that I love you. And I love Earlene also, in a measure I never believed I could feel toward a mortal. I care too about Lorna and Ratiri, deeply, though my bond to them is not as strong. Thranduil, I will ask your forgiveness now, for the words I am about to speak. Though you are wed to Earlene, there are times I do not believe you take the measure of her correctly. There is nothing you have shared with me that Earlene would be incapable of hearing. But regarding the others...perhaps it would be best to keep this among your sworn people. From what the Lord Manwë has spoken to you, much will occur. It is my belief that with time, your path will become clearer than it is now. If it is my counsel you wish, then I can say no better than this." He lowered his eyes, wondering how much...what did the humans say?..how much he had put his foot in his mouth.

At first, the observation about Earlene grated. But as he forced himself to reflect, he admitted that Thanadir was not wrong. In some ways, his seneschal understood her better. Just as he and Lorna had a strange commonality, so did Earlene and Thanadir. "I will reflect on your words. And there is nothing to forgive. Though I would prefer not to admit it, you are correct. That I could unburden myself to you...this has meant a great deal to me, and I thank you. I am sorry, that…"

"My Lord," said Thanadir, shaking his head. "No King of our people would have been unaffected, by what you experienced. I would do anything for you. To listen to you was my privilege." They looked at each other for some moments, not speaking. "Thranduil, what...happened, to Lorna? Was something...done...to her, as it was to you?"

"I do not know," he whispered. "It is my great hope, that some manner of blessing was bestowed. It was extraordinary."

"The Valar have had few direct dealings with mortals," Thanadir admitted. "And none were left untouched. If there is an occasion for you to share with Lorna what occurred, I believe in my heart that you will know it at that time. But especially before her children come, I would advise you to keep your silence."

Thranduil nodded, rising. "My thoughts feel more ordered, now." He grimaced. "And yet this morning is not over yet. Ratiri and Lorna had a disagreement, in addition to all of this. Which makes yet another task for me. Return to Earlene, meldir. Lorna will not wake for some time. I should go to Ratiri."

Thanadir stood also. "The mortals are a great deal of work," he mused. "And yet I have found great happiness alongside them."

The King smiled as he enveloped Thanadir in a bear hug. "As have I, gwador."

The seneschal smiled as his eyes widened in delight. Thranduil had never called him that before. As he returned to Earlene, Thanadir shook his head. _It had all begun, with her. And Eru only knew where it would end._ And yet more than anything else, it felt exciting, optimistic. When he entered the King's rooms, Earlene's alert eyes followed him, though she did not ask any questions. He sat next to her, taking her hands. "All is well, Earlene. I believe the King will speak to you at a time of his choosing. But even if not, I will risk telling you that all is well."

She laughed softly. "Do not get yourself in trouble on my account, meldir. I accepted that I would not know many things, when I swore my fealty to Thranduil. Nevertheless I thank you, for your reassurance." A smile of happy contentment that was usually given only to him, came over her face, before that expression shifted. "Please, I am very thirsty," she said. The pitcher of water was at the sideboard, and procuring it for herself was not possible. He rose immediately.

"I am sorry, Earlene, did you want your tea? Or water? Breakfast is rather delayed, today," he frowned.

"Please, water. I can wait awhile yet to eat. I think."

Thanadir smiled, hoping Thranduil would not need too long.

"Ratiri," said Thranduil kindly. "Forgive my intrusion, but I hoped you would be willing to come for our meal. Lorna will not be eating with us," he said softly, on the odds that this information might help sway him.

Ratiri lowered his sword, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did need to eat, for all his appetite was nowhere to be found. "I doubt I need to tell you we fought," he said. "She's too stubborn for her own good."

"I do not disagree," he agreed, before hesitantly adding to his words. "There are some things you should know. Would you come with me?"

Well, that was nice and cryptic. Ratiri cleaned the sword off and put it away. "Should I be worried?"

"I…." Thranduil looked at him helplessly, knowing that this response was a complete failure. Could he be forgiven, for having been pushed beyond what even he could manage in a single morning? "I do not fully know. But I do not think so."

The very fact that Thranduil didn't 'fully know' was in itself worrying, and enough to make Ratiri follow him. "I said something I should not have," he admitted. "Something I'm not sure she'll forgive me for, because it was one of the worst things I _could_ have said."

"It is not my business to interfere in another's relationship, Ratiri. But know that...your struggles have not been hidden from me. If I am given the opportunity, I will do what I can to help her see reason. You have a listening ear with me. However, I am afraid I may be in my own cauldron of hot water with her. After you had your disagreement, something happened. Whatever Von Ratched did to keep her from remembering her rape dissolved away. She collapsed. I may pay for it with everything between her and I, but I rendered her unconscious and I wiped out all memory of what occurred. I could not bear to know that she would live with this, and I could not bear to continue enduring her forced struggles with every new aspect of this assault that has come to her awareness. And then...more happened, that I cannot yet share with you. Things that I barely understand myself. She was extraordinary blessed." He shook his head. "I cannot say more. I will tell her what I have done; that duty will not fall to you a second time. By Eru, I need wine," he said plaintively.

"She collapsed," Ratiri echoed. _She collapsed, and I wasn't there._ It was true he probably couldn't have _done_ anything, they'd both been so angry that it might have done more harm than good, but still...that hit her, and he wasn't there. He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but part of him was jealous that Thranduil could help her so much better than he could, in half the time. "That...she'll forgive you for that, I'm sure. Once she knows why." Oh, how he wished there was any way he could get Thranduil to tell him what that 'blessing' was, but he knew better. "I'm not sure she'd ever _not_ forgive you, honestly. She calls you her brother from another mother." And family, he knew from long, long years of witnessing patients at the hospital, were often more readily forgiven than lovers or spouses.

"I am sorry, Ratiri. I truly do not mean to do for her what you cannot. Or rather, I do, but…" he groaned. "I think, I hope you know what I am trying to express. If it is any consolation, Thanadir can help Earlene in ways I wish I could, but cannot. And I do not know what form this blessing has taken. Regarding the other; I take nothing for granted. She will not wake soon, this time. And when she does wake, I cannot say what her frame of mind will be. Only that there is likely not enough wine in my cellars to manage it."

"I may need to ask you for a drop or two myself," Ratiri sighed. "I shouldn't - she needed to hear most of what I said, for all I doubt she'll listen right now. I've never met a more pigheaded person. The last thing, though...you and I might be sitting in the same barrel of hot water, at least at first. She's often wondered why women do this more than once, but I wonder just as much why their husbands or boyfriends or whatever would want to, either. I feel rather guilty, complaining about the strain of being supportive when she's so physically miserable, but it _is_ a strain."

"I know it is," Thranduil said sympathetically, placing an arm loosely across his shoulder. "My first wife was...well let us just say that Earlene, for all her struggle to date, has coped as well or even a little better. Lorna went into this with many more disadvantages, which has been helpful to no one. Do not think that your efforts have gone unnoticed. And Ratiri, it is perhaps beyond time to offer you more help. Lothiriel has begun coming. Ortherion now helps Thanadir, so that Thanadir can help Earlene. You have been largely without assistance. If you would like an elleth to be with Lorna, if only to give you some time alone, please say the word. Perhaps I too could help more, assuming she will still be speaking to me."

"I would really, really appreciate it," Ratiri said. "I can't say that she's demanding - she's not, unless it's, er, bedroom-wise - but she can barely move on her own now. Someone who could help would be wonderful." He followed Thranduil, sighing again. "I realize this was both of our faults, but I still feel guilty at times. Neither of us thought for a moment of protection - she had thought she was sterile, but _I_ didn't know that. The wine really didn't just destroy our inhibitions, it smashed them into the earth and sowed the ground with salt."

"Ratiri," Thranduil said, stopping. "Your physical desires are common to your race, and nothing for which to apologize. And if there is any fault, it may very well be mine. I did not know of Lorna's reproductive condition. I healed her on three different occasions, maybe four. My energy moves forth to restore, and repair. And suddenly she is able to conceive, albeit with children that she desires greatly. And then I provided you with our wine. While I cannot know for certain exactly what transpired, it certainly seems that some culpability rests at my feet."

Ratiri turned this over, and actually burst out laughing. "Of course," he said. "Magical incontinence. The two of us really do want these children, for all they weren't planned, but honestly I think that's been a bit harder on both of us. You and Earlene made a conscious decision to have children. Lorna and I got hideously drunk on incredibly good wine and accidentally made babies. We might both desire the outcome, but there are moments that I stop and wonder just what in God's name I've got myself into, and I know she does, too. Something I'm sure will only get worse with two a.m. feedings and nappy changes," he added, shaking his head.

"As long as you are among us you will have all the help you wish. All elves love children, and we have not been blessed with them in our Halls for a very long time. And I apologize to you, for not stating this plainly, sooner. Had you had more help, perhaps this morning would have been avoided." They had reached the door, but before he pushed it open he said one last thing. "Earlene knows nothing, Ratiri. What she learns or does not is up to you."

Ratiri pondered this. Earlene already knew about the rape; should Lorna try to keep _this_ secret, the strain of it might tell...but then, he'd tried to make one decision for her, and look how _that_ had ended. It was up to Lorna to tell that...and it occurred to him, only now, that if he'd actually told Lorna _why_ he wanted Thranduil to help her - something more than vague 'nightmares' - she might have been more receptive. If she'd known the source of the nightmares...it wouldn't have made up for him not telling her she was having them weeks ago, but it probably would have mitigated much of her wrath. In not telling her, for fear that panic might lead her to make bad choices, he'd effectively shot them both in the foot. It was all he could do not to facepalm.

Oops.

Well, there was no help for it now. "Had I chosen my own words better, it at least might not have been as bad," he said, shaking his head. "Lorna can tell her, if she wants. She accused me of making decisions for her, and while she was being rather over-dramatic, she also wasn't entirely wrong."

Thranduil smiled. "I am not perfect, in my relationship with Earlene. Neither is she. But I love her with all my heart, and I know that she feels the same. I would do anything, to work past mistakes I have made. We have both had our shortcomings; I would argue I have been responsible for most of them. Earlene forgives readily, and has a loving heart. This has been a blessing for both of us. Love, and a willingness to forgive. It is what allows for problems to be solved." He walked into the rooms, to see Earlene leaning against Thanadir, quietly reading to him. His motion in her peripheral vision caused her to look up. "My King," she said in greeting.

"Meluieg," he smiled in return. "I think it is more than time for our breakfast." Thanadir took away the book, and lifted Earlene to bring her to the table, before she blushed and whispered to the seneschal, who obligingly changed course and headed for the lavatory. "Lorna is asleep on the sofa in our bedroom," Thranduil told Ratiri, pouring tea for them all. Earlene was returned quickly, and placed in her usual chair. Thranduil noted, to his disappointment, that Thanadir had managed to adjust Earlene's clothing for her so as to greatly reduce her displayed cleavage. Still, at least he'd had the morning. He smiled, reflecting on how any sanity he still had remaining was likely owed to his wife's generosity in welcoming their brief encounter. With a sigh, he served them all porridge.

"You are coming with me, Earlene. Thanadir, will you please ensure that at least one person remains with Lorna to watch over her, however you see fit to manage it?" With a nod from the seneschal, he lifted her into his arms. She held on loosely to his neck, curious but mostly glad to be near him, held by him. "I thought we might go to our cell," he said, smiling.

"Our cell? I thought it was my cell," she teased back.

"That is because you do not know that I too have gone there to have an occasional...moment."

"Ah. Well in that case, I am happy to share it with you." She paused. "It seems like such a waste, really. I like it down there. Maybe we should bring in a sofa?"

"You are not ordinary, Earlene, have I ever told you that?"

"Perhaps not in so many words, my Lord, but I have felt acknowledged by you for what abilities I possess."

A few minutes' later he sat with her held in his lap, and took her hands. "Earlene, something happened today. I hope that you can forgive that I spoke first to Thanadir, out of a need to…"

Her finger was on his lips. "You are King, my Lord. While I thank you, you will never owe me explanations for any decision you make inside of these Halls. And probably not outside either, but assuredly the former."

"Even so, I have no easy way to say this. I must show you my memories, Earlene. Are you prepared?"

"Insofar as I am capable, when I know nothing, yes." She took a deep breath, trying to keep Thanadir's reassurance in mind. Her husband tilted up her face, to touch his forehead to hers, while she reflexively held his arms loosely. For the next several minutes they remained thus, until Thranduil broke away from her. She frowned. "Well. That _is_ rather a lot. And yet...what a blessing, for you, Thranduil. I confess that even though I have come to accept the Valar as the elves do, I had never expected to see anything like this, even vicariously. I...ah, imagine I will be digesting this for a time, as I am certain you are doing also. Know that I love you, and will willingly do anything asked of me. Though I do not understand what this means, entirely, for myself or all of us." _They are real,_ she could not help but think. _Really real. Not, in a book or my imagination. And beautiful..._ her heart filled with awe, and reverence at what her mind had seen.

"You understand, Earlene, that in the end you are being asked to leave this world, to go with us?"

She smiled weakly, nodding. "In many ways I have already left this world, Thranduil. That much was accomplished the day I came here. But yes, I understand. If I may remain at your side for as long as is given to me, nothing else matters." Stroking his cheeks with her hands, she nuzzled him.

"Thanadir was right," he murmured, his face pressed against hers. "I underestimate you when I should not."

"We have not known each other for even a year, husband. We will grow together, come closer, learn of each other. This is only the beginning. Do not fault yourself."

He closed his eyes, feeling that his heart might burst with the love he had for her.

"I will take you back now," he said. "Besides, I know that now you have a great project on which to work. I believe your gift will create great envy, Earlene. It is ingenious, for you to have thought of it."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, but you knew that," she smiled as she was carried away. "I will not speak of what you have shown me, without your permission. So you know."

"You may speak with Thanadir, and myself. But no others."

"You have my obedience," she replied, her mind already turning to how to organize her present for Ortherion.

Earlene was already many pages into filling her notebooks, trying to make examples. Thanadir had remained at her side, looking at the Sindarin language file and giving suggestions. He recommended paring out some grammar elements from what she was attempting, lest the project become boggling. "Even if all you did was provide a sheet of phrases for him to learn, it would be a generous gift. Do not worry about any but present tense, for verbs. Focus on creating sayings useful for conversation, then build on them with grammar elements that allow them to be flexible. I will help you, and make this easier. What you are creating can eventually help others also. This will be a...test."

"Very well, meldir. Your ideas are sensible, as always." With a sigh, she turned to a new notebook page and tried to begin thinking of what kinds of things were said most often, in a day.

Ratiri had hit enough things for today, but he was still restless, so he made his way to the kitchens. The world always needed more biscuits - and he was willing to shamelessly bribe Lorna with food. Given the state of her hormones at present, he couldn't precisely fault her for her reaction - she likely would not have had it, were she not pregnant. He had no doubt she'd have got _annoyed_ , sure, but that? No. She would either wake up maudlin or still extremely pissed off, but either way, biscuits were good.

He certainly hoped Lothiriel or someone would be able to help in future. He simply couldn't cope with this on his own anymore - honestly, he shouldn't have been trying to for the last fortnight at least. Under ordinary circumstances, there would have been family, friends - others for her to lean on, so she didn't have to lean so heavily on him. He loved her dearly, and he knew she loved him as well, but this situation had done neither of them any favors. And it was because she loved him that he trusted that she'd forgive him, even if it took her a few days. Except…

 _Try harder_ , he'd said, and oh, how he wished he hadn't. The words haunted him even as he waved to the cooks, who by now knew him a bit - he spoke enough Sindarin to let them know he had permission to muck about down there, so they left him to it, only showing him where various ingredients were if asked. He gathered flour and sugar and assorted tools - measuring cups, a mixing bowl, a biscuit sheet and rolling pin. Thanadir had bought chocolate chips the last time he'd been to the village, and chocolate was good for releasing endorphins, as well as being extremely tasty.

But... _try harder_. He'd kicked her right where she was most insecure, but under ordinary circumstances, he was entirely sure she'd just give out at him a bit over that and move on. In her current state, though, being ruled by her hormones to such a degree? He wasn't getting off that easy. Hence, biscuits.

He would be so, so glad when these children were born, though he suspected not so glad as Lorna. They would have two beautiful children, and she would actually be herself again...and if they were very lucky, they'd have the option to go back to the cottage. They'd need to put the second storey on sooner or later, but while the twins were babies it would be best to have them close anyway. They'd be a family, with a home of their own, and their place in the human world as well as the elven.

They hadn't really pondered names for their children yet. Lorna wanted to name the boy Shane, but they hadn't yet come up with a name for their daughter. They had time yet, but he rather liked the name Chandra - it had been the name of a child who would have been his elder sister, stillborn three years before his own birth. His mother would likely approve. Hopefully Lorna would, too. It was certainly alliterative enough, Chandra and Shane. Would they look like him or Lorna, or would they be genetic outliers and look like neither? He was half white, and she was three-quarters; there was every chance at least one of them would come out pale (and then they would constantly be looked at as though they'd stolen him or her. Lovely.) He really did hope they'd wind up taller than Lorna, though; while she was an adorable little sprite, the fact remained that she struggled a bit in a world built for people who were at least over five feet. Neither of his own parents had been tall; his height apparently came from his great-grandfather, a redheaded giant of a man would get drunk and try to run people down on his horse for looking at him funny, and once knocked over a man in a pub by using another man as a club. Wherever Ratiri had got his normally patient disposition from, it sure as hell hadn't been his family. Evidently the insanity on both sides went back generations.

If only his mother could have met Lorna - but then, perhaps it was best they hadn't. They'd probably have taken over the world inside of five years. Still, for his parents to have seen his life now, all that it had become...hopefully they could, from wherever the dead went.

When Lorna woke, she at first had no idea where the hell she was, aside from not where she'd been. Why had she been out? What the hell had happened?

She was, she realized, in Earlene and Thranduil's room, lying on the sofa with a blanket over her. Recalling the events leading up to this was a struggle, but she managed it - she and Ratiri had fought, she'd told him to get out, he'd gone, and then...then what? Had he gone and got Thranduil anyway, and she'd been knocked out yet again?

Anger stabbed through her, but it was brief; Thranduil wouldn't do that without her consent - or at least, not just because Ratiri asked him to. Something had happened, but what?

She hauled herself up off the couch, determined to find out. Waddling into the sitting-room, she found Earlene, Lothiriel, and Allanah, all looking quite cosy.

"How did I get here?" she asked. "And why?"

Earlene looked up from her writing, and frowned. "I...don't actually know. But I suspect Thranduil will come soon, he's been in every so often, to check on you. Sorry. They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask." What she did not add was how desperately glad she was not to know, because from what she saw of Thranduil's encounter with Manwë and Lorna's minor involvement therein, ignorance was likely far better.

Lorna sighed. She ought to get started on Maerwen's scarf, but she was restless, and sad. She went to sit with Allanah, making the little girl giggle by tickling her under the chin. "What's the first thing you want to do, once you've had your kids and can actually move again?" she asked, looking at Earlene. "I have to say that jogging never appealed to me, but I might start, just because I can."

"Ohhh running, definitely. At least, if I can find a way to control the udders here," she pointed to her chest. "They've gone down, a little bit, but my guess is, that's just the calm before the storm. And cooking will be a close second. I mean, I can't even walk right now. The only way I can be in a kitchen is if someone else agrees to be a living pair of hands for me. And while Thanadir would, and I love him for it, it isn't the same. It's like...if I played his violin for him, or something. The point of the thing is to do it yourself. I miss yoga, too, but not as much as running."

Lorna looked down at her chest. "I'm not sure I like having even what little's there," she said. "There's never been anything before. As if my gut hadn't wonked my body out enough already." Shaking her head, she said, "I miss playing guitar. I miss being able to walk more than a dozen yards. I miss not being a giant bundle of hormones." Yes, she was actually a bit close to tears, which was appalling. She never cried, and certainly not over stupid little nothings like an argument with her damn boyfriend. That was just pathetic.

Earlene looked at her with pity. "I had a giant meltdown last night, Lorna. And I think just going off on my own and sobbing, and then sobbing some more once Thanadir found me, was the best thing I could have done. I feel better today because I gave myself a good lecture this morning, but I don't think it would have been possible before just getting it out of my system. And I'm not so stupid as to believe I won't have another meltdown again sometime soon. It's not your fault, but you might feel better if you just go...indulge yourself. You know where the bathing pool is. Either way, you have my sympathy," she said, with all the sincerity she could manage while her head was clogged with trying to provide some common irregular verb conjugations.

"I think that might be a good idea, before anyone who isn't female comes back," Lorna said, hauling herself to her feet. If she had to do this, she didn't want witnesses. Waddling into the bathroom, she shucked her clothes, climbed into the welcome heat of the pool, and cried like a bitch. She'd been trying not to let herself feel too sorry for herself - this sucked, but it was finite, and it was hardly the the first time a woman had undergone a shitty pregnancy - but just now she allowed herself to wallow. And she'd fought with Ratiri over not much at all - she'd come frighteningly close to hitting him, which truly disturbed her. Her temper hadn't been this easily frayed since before Thranduil and Thanadir did their thing in her head, and it scared her a bit that she could...backslide, like that. Yes, Ratiri could occasionally seem annoyingly paternalistic, but so what? Why the hell had she gone off on him like that? Well, she knew why; hormones, a word she was beginning to hate.

It was stupid, and as much her fault as it was his, except...except. Except he'd told her 'try harder'. Either he genuinely didn't know how hard she _had_ been trying, or he didn't care. She doubted it was the latter; Ratiri wasn't the sort to not care. Which meant he just didn't notice, that her efforts weren't enough, and she really, really hoped nobody minded if she got a little snot in this pool, because now that she'd got started, she couldn't stop, fat tears plopping into the lovely warm water. At least she was silent about it, or as silent as she could be, letting all her maudlin thoughts out at one go.

Thranduil returned, realizing Lorna's present state of affairs. Earlene realized he would already know everything he needed to, and could ask if he somehow did not. "Break time," he said, knowing she had been sitting at the table for quite some time now. "I want you to try to stand, leaning against the table. I will get a cushion for your belly," he said. She managed this, though it was obvious to her that her legs were but a poor part of the equation. "Do your best to step in place," he asked her, standing behind her and rubbing her neck and shoulders. Lothiriel smiled, while doing her best not to stare openly. Many had wondered about the nature of their bond, but it had become swiftly apparent to her that their King genuinely loved his mortal bride and adopted daughter. Not that she would share this with others; to be identified as the source of such idle chatter would bring her into disgrace, especially with the stern seneschal. And that was to be avoided at all costs, because it was his favorable opinion that had brought her here. She busied herself playing with Allanah when the child was awake, and did her best to mind her own business.

Lorna, red-eyed, wet hair wrapped up in a towel, waddled out of the bathroom. She hadn't realized Thranduil had returned, or she would have stayed put; Earlene was a fellow pregnant woman, and understood ridiculous tears. Thranduil was neither, and having him see her when she was such an irrational mess wasn't quite what she'd planned on. Still, turning around and going back would be hellaciously rude, so she wiped her nose on her sleeve (that was another shitty thing - no Kleenex with the elves) and went to clamber up onto an armchair. "How did I get here?" she asked. "And why?"

Just then Thanadir came in as well, and Earlene did not waste a second. "Meldir, please?" she reached her arms to him. Thranduil would care for the rest, because while she truly did have to use the lavatory, what she really wanted was to flee the room before what was assuredly a private conversation began. And truthfully, after what she'd been told earlier, some time with her elven security blanket would not go amiss. The words spoken by the Lord of the Valar would not leave her thoughts, and her inability to forego analyzing was yielding some thoughts that made her feel nervous in their rawness.

Thanadir closed the bedroom door behind them, leaving Thranduil and Lorna alone with Lothiriel. A quiet word from the King caused the elleth to leave with Allanah, departing to walk the passages outside..

Only then did Thranduil meet her eyes. What did it say about his relationship with this diminutive woman, when it caused him more trepidation to speak with her now than to have knelt before a Vala? It was absurd, and he knew it, but he could not help his feelings. "You are here because I carried you here. I think you remember that you had a disagreement with Ratiri. But after that, something happened. Whatever Von Ratched did to you, to prevent the memory of your encounter with him failed utterly. You remembered everything, all at once, and you collapsed under the weight of it. Many things were happening in your body and mind, all of them bad for your children. That is how I found you, in your room, after pushing your blocked door open. I rendered you unconscious and destroyed every shred of those memories within you." He looked down, before raising his eyes again. "I elected to accept the consequences of how you would feel about what I have done. I could not endure either of us being put through this again. I am sorry, Lorna." There was little else he could say, and fell silent.

Cold horror filled her, though perhaps not for the reason he'd think. She'd remembered... _that?_ She hadn't thought that a possibility, but it would be just like that disgusting son of a bitch to set a...a time limit on it. A shudder wracked her, leaving her to curl in on herself - she couldn't imagine, didn't _want_ to imagine; she'd tried her damndest _not_ to imagine, because doing so could go nowhere good.

Had she not been a disgusting ball of hormones, she might have taken that with something closer to equanimity. As she _was_ a disgusting ball of hormones, she couldn't actually summon words - instead, rather like a child, she clambered down off her chair and somehow managed to haul herself up onto his lap, naturally bursting into tears like a goddamn baby. What the fuck was wrong with her? She'd just done this, she'd thought she'd got it out of her system, but this...words still weren't to be found, though the front of his robe was possibly getting a nice layer of snot.

He would never understand her. Fully prepared to be screamed at, or have objects thrown at him by a snarling badger in human form, yes. But he would not dwell on this. He wrapped his arms around her, silently asking Thanadir to do something for him. Seconds later he reached up, to feel a handkerchief placed in his hand, which he gave to her. Not a word was spoken, only slow circles rubbed on her back with his fingers. When he sensed that there was nothing more to cry, he gave her awhile longer yet, before speaking. "Lorna, this may seem like a strange question, and I ask you to bear with me. Do you feel...different, in any way? Do you remember anything at all, from the time you were unconscious?"

Lorna wiped her nose again, and shook her head against his shoulder. "I didn't know I was out until I woke up here." Her voice was hoarse, her sinuses utterly clogged. "Why? Should I?"

"That part, I cannot say at this time. In this, you must trust me. I love you Lorna, very much. Do not be concerned about your emotions, or your tears."

Well, that was a non-answer, but she knew him well enough by now to know it was all she was going to get, until he decided to tell her more. That would annoy her so much more if she wasn't so weary. "You're lucky I trust you," she sniffled, wiping her nose again. "I love you too, ard deartháir. Even if you're secretive, and you've got better hair than I do." Yes, she'd called him 'tall brother'. It was apt.

He gave no reply, only a chuckle that rumbled through her. "Your hair is much longer than mine. And dark, and lovely. Perhaps you should ask Lothiriel to braid it for you, as the elleth do.

"Maybe I will," Lorna said. Drained though she was, she realized, rather abruptly, that she was starving, though it was obviously past breakfast. "Can I bribe someone for some toast?" God, she sounded so pathetic. Fucking pregnancy. She really was never, ever doing this again.

"Yes, we will have food brought for you. But if you would eat them, there are apples and peanut butter here."

Thanadir beelined from the bedroom out of the rooms even as Thranduil said, "Would you like the apple slices, or would you prefer to wait for Thanadir to return?"

"I probably ought to actually eat some fruit," she said, shaking her head - for the thought made her think of Ratiri, which just made her sad. Somehow she managed to get back to the floor without falling over or elbowing Thranduil in the gut, which she called a win.

"Sit," he ordered, before smiling and adding, "please." Moving to the sideboard, he began slicing one of the apples onto a plate, though not quite with the elegance Thanadir would have managed, and brought them to her, returning to his own chair. He elected to test the waters. "Ratiri feels very badly about your...disagreement, Lorna. He was here to check on you."

Lorna munched on an apple slice so she wouldn't have to answer right off. Part of the problem with being a disgusting ball of hormones was that knowing she was didn't help in the least. Logic had little place right now. "He told me to try harder," she said, staring at the plate of slices. "I know he probably didn't mean it, but I don't think he'd've said it if he didn't on some level. That shouldn't hurt like it does, but it does."

"It is not my place to interfere in your relationship with him. But I will offer that when two people who love each other are both very upset, words are spoken that were not meant, and are later greatly regretted. I have said things to Earlene in anger that I wished I had not. I apologized, and she forgave me. Or rather, if I am to be completely truthful, she forgave me, and I apologized," he said ruefully. "I know he loves you very much."

Lorna wasn't entirely sure how apologizing could come _after_ forgiveness, but she would freely admit she was not the most emotionally aware of human beings. "I love him, too," she said, "and I know this shouldn't hurt like it does - I know it's just me being a hormonal mess - but god dammit, it _does_ hurt. I'm a big gooey ball of stupidity and hair, and knowing that doesn't make it any better."

"Loving someone rarely comes without hurting someone, or being hurt. It is a risk. And it does hurt. Your feelings are not your fault, Lorna. I know that this does not really help in any meaningful fashion, but it is true. I wish there was more I could do for you." He very much meant it, too.

"Breakfast and tea's probably a start," she said, eating more apple. "Already had a bath. Sort'v." She couldn't help but smile as she touched her wet hair. "I think I might've got snot in your bathtub. Sorry about that."

He laughed. "It drains and refills constantly. That is the least of my worries."

"Well that's a relief." She nibbled the last of her apple. "You want to know why I gave out at you over the first time you whammie'd me, but not this one?"she added.

His eyebrows arched in query.

"The first time, you took away any chance I might've had to deal with it on my own. _This_ was something I would've been totally unable to deal with on my own - this was a nightmare done to me by a creature totally beyond me, that I had no chance against. So...thank you."

For a few moments, he tried to reflect on her words. He truly made an effort to understand, but could not. Perhaps in some vague emotional sense, yes, but the logic was unsound. In _both_ cases, he had taken away her chance to deal with it on her own. In fact, he had acted more egregiously this time than in the first instance, in the sheer scope and scale of what he had done. The difference was her perception of her ability to manage the difficulty. And he was absolutely, utterly, and in all ways not going to point any of this out or discuss it further. He had just dodged a rain of arrows that were headed straight at him. Perhaps this was a gift of the Valar. "You are welcome," is what he said aloud, even as _Thank You_ echoed in his mind...just in case.

Earlene sat near the fire, held comfortingly against Thanadir, staring into the flames. "Thranduil told me what happened, meldir. Showed me, what happened."

His long unbound hair fell near her hands, and unthinkingly she twisted a strand of it onto her finger, and off, and on, as she tried to find words for half of what she wished she understood.

The ancient elf sighed. He struggled to imagine, what this knowledge must feel like, to her. "You must wonder about many things," he replied kindly.

"Yes. But mostly I do not understand, why. If what is in those books about your people are true, mortals do not go to Aman. Or at least, few mortals. I am nobody, Hîr vuin. Why me?"

He turned to chastely kiss her head. "Are you truly nobody, Earlene? You offered yourself freely to serve one of the greatest Elvenkings. If not the greatest, for none ever came close to matching his length of rule, outside of Aman. You are his wife, joined with him before Eru, and bearing his children. The King of the Valar has named you as set apart by him for a purpose. That is not any definition of 'nobody' with which I am familiar."

She sighed, unable to refute his logic even as it still made no sense on every level of self-awareness available to her. "I know it is a long time off, at least in my perspective. But...what if I have to meet Oropher? And Thranduil's son, when I stand in his mother's place? Even Alassëa? I can barely even fathom the sheer awkwardness of such encounters. You have to understand, for me, though in my mind I understand they are real, they are so far away and removed as to be…" she shook her head, unable to find words. "And the thought that I might actually see them, as I see you now…"

Thanadir laughed, softly. "I will confess a similar thought came to my mind as well. I wronged Erestor of Imladris greatly, and by extension mighty ones who love him dearly. I do not relish what might await me, in that regard."

"No one will ever harm you, gwador" she growled with open outrage. "I will not stand for it."

His eyes widened in astonishment. He nearly laughed, until he recalled what she had done to Von Ratched. "Earlene...I cannot have you standing between the likes of Glorfindel, and myself. He is...Glorfindel."

She settled again, into his arms. "I do not care if he is Glaurung, if he thinks to hurt you. But I will agree that this is not a profitable line of thought, and that I am quick to anger lately."

Thanadir's heart warmed, that anyone would care for him in this way, especially a firieth. He shook his head lightly at the thought of Earlene standing her ground against the golden Lord of Gondolin in all his legendary wrath, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "I think that is wise," he said. "But you do need to keep something in mind. I made a serious mistake, and hurt a good-hearted and noble ellon grievously. I must find a way to make amends for what I have done, or at least try, when that day comes. You will allow me this, I hope?"

Bursting into giggles, she nodded her head. "I am ridiculous, Thanadir, and I know it. I feel foolishly overprotective, because I love you. Some foe I would make, against one so powerful."

"I do not underestimate you any longer, Earlene. Do not underestimate yourself."

A huge sigh escaped her, and then Thanadir needed to assist the King. She grabbed a pillow as he departed, curling up against that instead.

Porridge, toast, and tea made Lorna feel quite a bit better, and she set about combing her hair before the fire.

Something had to be done about this hormone bullshit. She was putting herself and everyone around her through hell, and that was just _wrong_. The question was...what? She _knew_ it was hormone bullshit, but she'd told the truth when she told Thranduil that knowing that didn't help. Meditation was about as much use as a fart in a windstorm right now, going for walks unaided was all but impossible, and there was only so much time she could spend knitting and sharpening knives. Chess was only an option with Thanadir; everybody else she beat too fast, but he tended to beat her more often than she beat him, and so provided a challenge she could sink her teeth into. He was, however, so busy that she was unwilling to ask him for the time. Poor Earlene had it worse off than Lorna did right now; she had actual need of him. Lorna might not be able to walk far, but at least she _could_ walk.

Something had to give, though. Obviously there was nothing Thranduil could do, or he would have already done it. None of her substances of choice were an option, long walks were out, things like throwing knives were also a no-go….

Well, _shit_.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she stacked her breakfast dishes as she always had while working at the pub, and eyed the Christmas tree. There was little on it yet; she'd wanted to put up her Gran's ornaments, but hadn't got around to it. Well, here was one thing she could do, and she hauled herself off the sofa to do it.

They were contained in cardboard cartons older than Lorna herself, wrapped up in equally ancient tissue paper. Some of the colors were a touch faded, but others were still bright: glass balls with a divot in one side, painted to look like stars or suns; bells ringed with lines and dusted with glitter, most of which was long gone; vague tree-shapes that were banded with multiple colors. There were quite a lot of them, too, mainly owing to to the fact that as a young man, her grandda had been as unashamed a thief as Lorna herself had been in her teens. (Evidently it ran in the family; her great-gran's wedding dress had been made of silk stolen from England by a dock-working relative.)

There were some, too, that her grandda had carved - he'd made a new one for Gran every year of their marriage, and Mairead had learned woodcarving specifically so she could carry on the tradition after he died.

...Woodcarving. Now there was something to be learned, something she'd actually have to focus on, unlike knitting or sharpening. Even if she was shit at it, it was something to _do_ , something to take her mind off the fact that she was a land-whale, and only going to become more so as time went on.

The ornament-hooks were still attached, though a bit rusty in places, and she waddled across to the tree to hang them everywhere she could actually reach - which wasn't saying a great deal, but still. The bottom half of the tree would look lovely by the time she was done, and somebody taller could take care of the top.

Even such comparatively little action left her weary, and she went back to sit on the sofa, curled up as she sorted through the ornaments. God, this was pathetic; under normal circumstances, she could work all day with only a break for lunch, but ten minutes putting up ornaments wiped her out? Ugh.

 _No Lorna_ , she told herself, not wanting to let the maudlin pall of hormones settle over her. It was pointless, of course; the pall fell anyway, and she lay where she was and stared into the fire. Maybe big, long naps were the real answer. She drifted off to sleep before she could ponder it further.

Ratiri, now bearing a plate filled with four dozen biscuits (it was somewhat easy to go overboard, with ovens that size), took an educated guess that Lorna would still be in Earlene and Thranduil's rooms. He hadn't expected to find her still asleep, but neither was he surprised.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't 'still'; ornaments were strewn about on the table in front of her, the bottom of the tree dotted with them. They reminded him of his grandmother's ornaments, so dated and yet so perfect. She looked at peace right now; he'd set the biscuits down and read until she woke. He hoped she wasn't going to be utterly furious with him - but then, hanging ornaments wasn't the action of an enraged person. Smashing them, now that would be more like it; hanging them up and taking a nap, not so much.

She was so deeply under that he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Despite the fact that he and Thranduil made sure she was as physically healthy as she could be, she just looked...drained. Miserable. He was almost grateful twins tended to be premature; at least it meant she'd be only looking at another two months of this, not three, and Thranduil could keep the babies healthy once they were born. Yes, she'd be laid up for a bit afterward, but at least her body would be her own again.

She muttered something in her sleep, but it was in Irish. Leaving her to it, he went to hang up more ornaments, filling the half of the tree she couldn't reach. One thing was for certain: if she didn't want a tubal ligation - and quite honestly, he wasn't sure one would _work_ , thanks to Thranduil's magic incontinence - he was getting snipped. He could never put her through this again.

She woke just as he was putting the star atop the tree, tired and unhappy, rubbing at a crick in her neck.

"I brought biscuits," he said, somewhat awkwardly.

Somehow, she managed a smile. "Can I just go to sleep until this is over?" Lorna actually wasn't one hundred percent certain she was ready to talk to him right now, but whatever. She had to sooner or later.

"I wish I could say yes, but your muscles would atrophy," he said, sitting beside her feet. "Lorna, I'm sorry about this morning."

"So am I," she said. "I can't promise I'll be any better, because'v these fucking hormones, but I'll try." _Try harder_ , flitted through her mind, and she sat on it. He didn't actually mean it, of that she was fairly sure, but at the same time, she wasn't going to be able to forget about it yet.

"Lorna, you don't need to apologize," Ratiri said, pulling her feet onto his lap to give them a rub. "I'm a doctor. I of all people ought to understand the hell a pregnant woman's hormones can give her. You give out at me all you need - I'm half the reason you're in this mess, after all. All I ask is that you don't leave any lasting scars."

That drew a slightly larger, slightly more genuine smile, though that fell a touch when she said, "But I'll try."

He winced; he _knew_ he was going to regret that one. "Come here," he said, moving to sit beside her, tugging her until she was curled up against him. "Lorna, you already try as hard as you can," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "If anything, maybe you shouldn't just now. I should never, ever have said that, and I'm sorry."

"Did you mean it?" she asked, her forehead pressed against the side of his neck.

"No," he sighed into her hair. "Lorna, I see how hard you try. I see how far you've come, possibly even more clearly than you can, given I've got an outside perspective. And I'll tell you something - if you try _too_ hard, if you try to change yourself too much to suit what you think other people want of you, you'll just be miserable, and not _you_ anymore. You're profane and volatile and loyal to a fault, and I for one would not want you any other way."

Lorna shut her eyes. "You're good at that."

"At what?" he asked.

"Apologizing. And you even made biscuits."

Ratiri laughed. "A food bribe never hurts."

Earlene continued to read sonnets to Thanadir, and then they would spend some time trying to understand them. Some intentions of the poet were obvious, and others would have to wait for an internet connection. Mostly what she was enjoying was the chance to explain some very detailed features of her language to him, something she genuinely enjoyed discussing. It was a treat to watch the elf perceive the plays-on-words, the double meanings, and the elegance of poetry and how it was composed. She pointed out "iambic pentameter" to him, and told how most older poems had not only "rhyme" but "meter." And that the definition of poetry, in the eyes of many, was the concept of using the best words, in the best way. She felt certain that most anyone else would have run screaming from the detail and the sheer nerdiness of the subject, but he relished it as much as she did. They had just begun discussing what the phrase "maiden gardens unset" might mean, when Earlene stopped. "Do you smell cookies?" she asked him in disbelief, feeling her stomach lurch with lustful cravings.

"I smell something like...a dessert," he said, now noticing it too. "Ohh," escaped his lips. "When I was sent to bring food for Lorna, the kitchen ellith were helping Ratiri bake something. You are probably right, Earlene."

She looked at him. "I cannot go out there before the next meal. I will crawl across the floor and take them over like Smaug plundering Erebor." It was not an exaggeration. The smell made her want whatever they were in a way that defied rational thought. "Oh, bother. Not this, too." she whispered helplessly.

"Will it help you, if I slice an apple?" he asked, feeling sorry for her.

"No thank you. I will try to act like an adult and wait for the next meal. I just hope they are put away beforehand or they will _be_ the next meal."

The seneschal felt justified in sending a silent message to his King. Not very long after, the clink of tableware was heard, and Thranduil entered the bedroom. Earlene's face lit up with joy, to see him, and he sat next to them. "You two are making quite a study of a language nobody speaks any longer," he teased.

"It is very beautiful, my King," Thanadir said, "I…"

Thranduil laughed and caressed Thanadir's rosy cheek. "I know it is, dear one. I am teasing you. It is my way of rejoicing that somehow, the cumulative events of this morning have not caused the walls of my fortress to come tumbling down. Hopefully now we can have the simple joys of our coming holiday. Lothiriel has returned with Allanah, and is feeding her. And Ortherion has brought our meal. Come, my family. Thanadir, I will help Earlene." The two ellyn looked at each other meaningfully as Thranduil helped his wife to the lavatory. Thanadir left the room, to discreetly place the plate of cookies well out of sight. Until _after_ lunch.


	52. Chapter 52

Maerwen's scarf was locked, cocked, and ready to rock, as the Americans might say. The elleth tended to favor earthy browns and greens, and fortunately Lorna had had a few skeins in different shades of both colors. While stripes didn't seem to figure into the elves' clothing...at all, but what the hell, that was just what you did when you didn't have enough yarn to make one thing. It too was done up in paper, now residing under the Christmas tree.

Ortherion's gift had been completed only earlier that day and Earlene felt ridiculously nervous, reminding herself over and over that this was just a fun thing. But as usual with the things she worked on, she'd put too much effort into it, gone overboard, and now wondered if the entire thing wasn't ridiculous and if the ellon would even like it at all. Oh, she was certain the unflappable smile of thanks would occur, and that was the worst part. She _knew_ Thranduil and Thanadir, but it had taken her months on end to learn to read the seneschal. Other elves still felt...opaque, to her. It was not obvious what they felt or thought. _Oh can't you shut up and let it go, Earlene. It's just supposed to be a little thing. God, I want some of that wine._

The past days prior to this Christmas Eve had been wonderful in the sense that they were busy; the days had felt full and stimulating instead of empty and with nothing to focus on but the assorted unhappinesses of pregnancy. One other positive development had manifested as well; after the fourth day of being unable to walk, something shifted, and Earlene's legs cooperated again. Though, it was uncertain how much of an improvement this was. Thranduil was unconvinced about the stability of this change, and feared that she would fall. Though she did not have to be carried, she had been...he stopped short of forbidding her, but he made it clear that he very much wanted someone to walk alongside her at all times. Had it not been for how much she was enjoying her projects, she felt reasonably certain that an epic fit of sulking might have been the outcome, but as it was, she'd risen above it. For now. And it was of course another one of those things she felt she could not vent to Lorna, because….that might be like throwing gas on a fire.

After days of waiting, the time for the Yule Feast and the gift exchange was at hand. Realizing that it was likely to be the most momentous event remaining before the birth of her children, Earlene was for her part greatly looking forward to it. There would be sweets, real sweets, like cake and some candies. They were to exchange their 'family' gifts tomorrow, and it would of course be Allanah's first birthday. Allanah was already dressed very prettily, and happily gnawed on the ribbon that decorated her little gown. Earlene, on the other hand, stared into her wardrobe whilst contemplating her options. There were three dresses that fit her now, and she was wearing one. The other two were...the other two. All of them were worn all the time, because they were more or less all she had. It was senseless to ask for many dresses when this would all be over with so soon, so she had never said a word to the ellyn, nor would she. But tonight, it felt like a heavy blow. A holiday on which she got to appear like she did every other day. She sighed as she gazed mournfully into the open doors, allowing herself a maudlin moment before she would force herself to dissemble that she was perfectly happy with it all. Really, her dress was clean and as good as any of the others, and she always had on her very beautiful necklace that felt like a part of her body, anymore.

A soft tap came on the door and she contorted her features into a theatrically practiced smile. A smile which became far less contrived when she saw that it was Thanadir, and not Lothiriel, though she felt horrible about that disparity. He walked to her, obviously hiding something behind his back, which caused her eyebrow to arch, though she said nothing. He laughed, knowing that little went unnoticed by her clever mind. "This is for you, dear Earlene." Her hopefulness shot up, at seeing one of his familiar cloth-wrapped bundles of what was so obviously fabric. Untying the string freed it, to reveal a lovely gown of emerald green, but this was nothing like anything elven. It was modern, and it was stunning. "I will help you with it," he said kindly, though he had to wait a moment because he was having the air squeezed out of him by her hug of thanks. He laughed. "I know how hard it has been for you, Earlene. Even I would not be happy with only three garments to wear." Which elicited a chortle, for Thranduil was known for his neat but unassuming manner of dress, almost always wearing colors of the forest whose only ornament was embroidering... in the same colors as the fabric in question.

Once on her, she saw that it was a flowing gown with a plunging neckline that made no secret of her...assets. The panels that went over her shoulders were really meant to be folded down, further adding to the daring display. A soft and very long tie wrapped repeatedly just under her bust, allowing the rest of the flowing fabric to move with every step. It was so very beautiful, but some teasing was required. "Meldir, was this a present only for me, or for the King as well?" she smiled, laughing as she lightly hefted her breasts with her hands.

Thanadir smiled mysteriously and replied, "It will bring happiness, will it not?"

This caused her to laugh uproariously, because they were both perfectly well aware of Thranduil's proclivities, though they were only rarely freely acknowledged in conversation. The topic was not 'seemly,' and they both respected that unspoken boundary. She only shook her head; it need not be said aloud. He offered her one of the lovely white knitted garments she had bought on Inis Mor, and regarded her with a critical eye. "Would you allow me to braid your hair?"

With an eager nod, she sat for him. He often wore his nearly waist-long hair partially pulled back from his face in two neat and thin braids that somehow were not in the least feminine. That or, she was becoming so accustomed to elven habits that males with braids seemed more commonly masculine to her now than anything else. Soon he was finished. "Thranduil will return very soon, and Lothiriel is in the outer room should you require assistance. You are content where you are?" With only the faintest grimace she replied to him.

"I would prefer to be nearer the fire." He offered his hand to help her rise, and hovered nearby as she walked the tiny distance, biting her cheek to stave off the verbal tantrum that wanted to escape. It would be churlish, to force him to listen to her complaints after he'd shown her such kindness. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said with sincerity.

He gave a kiss to her cheek. "This was my pleasure, Earlene. You are welcome, and your appearance is very beautiful. And now to surprise Lorna. I hope," he smirked before departing.

Unbeknownst to Earlene, Lorna was having a similar issue. Even her ordinary tunics no longer buttoned over her middle, so she'd been content to wander about in various flannel nightgown-slash-dress-slash-small tent combinations. Tonight was a special occasion, though, and she could hardly wear those lovely combs Ratiri had given her with a green-and-black checked housecoat and fuzzy slippers - for her feet had been too swollen for ordinary shoes for the last month. Yay.

Poor Ratiri was at something of a loss, too. Being a smart man, he knew better than to just say she looked lovely in anything, so don't worry about it - he didn't want a boot lobbed at his head, thanks so much.

"I'm a lump," she groaned, flopping onto the bed - on her side, since laying on her back anymore really sucked. "A disgusting lump in flannel, in a hall full'v elves. Shoot me now."

A soft knock came at the door, admitting the seneschal, who was as politely direct as always. Had he made some sort of study out of that? One could rarely accuse him of wasting time. "I must give you part of your present early, Lorna. I hope you like it." He held out a wrapped package to her, his face largely unreadable as always.

"Thank you, Thanadir," Lorna said, her mood rising a bit. Sitting up, she unwrapped it carefully, and grinned at what she found. A deep green tunic, cut to actually fit her current body shape, along with a red-and-black tartan scarf, black leggings, and soft black boots - the type that weren't actually meant to be worn outdoors, and could thus stretch to fit her feet in any way needed.

Her damn hormones of course misted her eyes over, and she hopped off the bed to hug him. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said again. It wasn't just that he'd brought her something nice to wear - he'd brought her something _she_ would like to wear, something Lorna, not Elf.

A rather large smile graced his features, by Thanadir-standards; he had taken his best guesses and succeeded. "You are welcome," he said in his usual cadenced tones, though with extra warmth. "I will see you soon at the feast."

Oh God, she was such a sap. "I won't be ashamed to be seen there, now," she said, running her fingers over the tunic.

"Thank you," Ratiri said, just as heartfelt and with no small amount of relief. He hadn't been certain what he was going to do, honestly, because this was one area in which he had no experience at all.

He turned at the doorway, and announced, "There will be cookies!" before flitting off to do whatever it was he did with his time.

"Well, he's got his priorities straight, that one," Lorna said. "Here, allanah, help me out. I really am a land whale."

It took some doing, but they got her into her outfit, and she actually smiled when she looked at her reflection in the mirror over the dressing-table. She looked - and felt - like a human again, not a flannel slug. Brushing out her hair, she worked in the beautiful combs, and beamed at him.

"You look lovely," he said, and meant it, bending down to kiss her forehead. "Now let's get biscuits." He offered her his arm, just like the Elves did it, and together they headed out to see just what Christmas with the Elves would be like.

Thranduil came breezing into their bedroom after happily nodding in acknowledgement at Lothiriel and Allanah, and stopped in his tracks, stunned. Which told Earlene the answer to her tangential question, of whether or not Thranduil knew of this or had discussed her dress with the seneschal. That would be a resounding _No_. Her gratitude for her meldir soared, even as she enjoyed the sight of her husband's appreciation.

"You approve?" she asked, amused. While she would not be so crass as to ask, she guessed that his eyes might not be the only part of him registering approval. And yet, her thoughts were not hidden from him.

"Surely you cannot blame me," he said softly, now walking to kiss her, even as he placed her hand on the answer to her question. "And yet now is not the time for lovemaking. Regrettably. You are always beautiful in my eyes, Earlene. But this...I now fear that my gift for Thanadir will be poor by comparison."

Her head tilted in curiosity but she knew better than to inquire; he was very secretive about giving gifts. So after escorting her to the facility one last time, they all made their way out, with Earlene covering a delighted Allanah's face in kisses. And they all laughed, and Earlene blushed a little, when the little fist made a definite grab at her displayed breasts. "Hungry already, little one? First we will try some of the foods at dinner." They moved along to the festive hall, which had many more candles lit than she had ever before seen; it was lovely. And no sooner had the King seated his family and himself, than the meal was served. He gave Lorna an admiring nod across the table, as platters of lovely food appeared. It was an exquisite presentation, and Thanadir looked fit to cry with happiness. Because Lothiriel ate with them to mind the baby, Ortherion did as well. Everyone did their best to make their relatively new additions feel welcome and comfortable.

Jesus, didn't Earlene look lovely...Thanadir must have got to her, too, like the Fairy Godfather for pregnant ladies who didn't want to feel like slugs. "How do they cook all this, given they've got no electricity?" Lorna asked Ratiri, as quietly as she could. "I mean, I'm sure the answer is 'because elves', but still."

"It's 'because elves'," he said, loading his plate. Steamed vegetables, and plenty of baked sweet potatoes for Lorna, who had developed quite a craving for them (if only the Elves had marshmallows). Four different kinds of meat, none of which he could name on sight, though he suspected one of them was some kind of pheasant. Rolls, fresh butter, more pies and cakes than he could count, and he had to make sure to get a little of all of it for Lorna, to satiate her sweet tooth. It was all Elf food; he didn't have much room for disapproval.

She stared longingly at a carafe of wine for a moment before settling down to her meal, and he worried that as soon as she was through nursing, she was going to go on the bender from hell. Something told him she wasn't going to nurse the twins as long as Earlene was nursing Allanah, but her body would tell her when it was done. Earlene was a slightly different case, her body having been manipulated to produce milk early.

Earlene noticed Lorna prodding a little at her sweet potatoes and motioned to Thranduil at one particular ceramic container that held a small ladle, and nudged it in front of her friend once she received it. "Here, Lorna. I've been corrupting the kitchen staff; Thanadir has been slowly bringing some of my kitchen tools over here that don't need electricity. I took the liberty of showing them how to make marshmallows, and therefore, marshmallow sauce." She grinned in spite of (well, _because of_ , would be more like it) the look of dismay that flashed across Ratiri's face. _It's a goddamn holiday and she deserves to drown her yams in sugar if she damn well wants_ , Earlene thought rebelliously. Besides, if elves made it they probably found a way to add...some vitamin or other, though that made no logical sense.

Lorna's face lit up, and she made somewhat restrained grabby-hands for the dish, slathering her sweet potatoes in about a half-inch worth of fluffy white goodness. "Corruption is a good thing, sometimes," she said, and at least managed not to speak with her mouth full. "God, I could eat these every day for a year."

Ratiri was quite sure she could, and he would just keep his happiness at the fact that it wasn't feasible to himself. He pretended not to notice just how much of both she added as she went along; she wasn't going to have room for much else if she kept on like this, but he'd learned months ago not to remark on her appetite in any way, shape, or form.

Earlene rolled her eyes. She felt that she herself ate awfully well, but Ratiri was bordering on insanity with the degree that he worried about Lorna's eating. Not that it was something to aspire to, but it stood to reason that many women in the outer world lived on Skittles and Coca-Cola during their pregnancies and still managed to deliver healthy children. By contrast Lorna was eating a nearly perfect diet; the meals provided to them were balanced and made from real, whole foods; nothing was processed that did not involve special "human" treats. No additives, no highly refined craptastic products of the modern industrial food system. Even if they fed her nothing but hot chocolate made from Buttercup's milk, she wouldn't be doing too badly.

It dismayed her, that she could not eat very much at once; perhaps somehow some of this could be brought to their quarters later to enjoy when her hard-pressed stomach had made room again. When Thranduil finished eating, so had most everyone else within her sight, and the King rose. With both excitement and nervous butterflies, she thought the gift exchange might begin now, darting a nervous glance at Ortherion, who looked happy as he leaned down to whisper something to his wife that made her smile. They seemed very sweet, very happy together, and Earlene wondered how many eons of time they had been wed, feeling a twinge of jealousy over something she knew was denied to her. _You cannot think about that_ , she admonished herself. _Ever. Never ruin what you have; only be grateful._ And with iron discipline, she did just that, blinking back the moisture in her eyes that had barely begun to pool.

He spoke, and the light dimmed all around the Hall, and most of the candles were extinguished. While her understanding of their language remained imperfect, she believed that his words said, more or less, "We celebrate our Feast of Yule with the mortal customs of Christmas tonight, in honor of new friendship and love. The custom of the gift exchange will follow after, but it is now that we remember this celebration of light in times of darkness." There was a pause, during which all who listened seemed to withdraw into reflection. "Before the first of our people awoke on the shores of Cuiviénen, our Lady Elbereth had placed the stars in the sky, that we would not be left in darkness. When some of our people heeded the summons to Aman, they found another creation of Light; the Two Trees sung into life by the Lady Yavanna. When these were destroyed, darkness was not allowed to prevail, and the Valar set Ithil and Anor into the heavens. We rejoice in the Light given to us, but most especially our beloved starlight, even as we now mark the solemn remembrance of what has been lost to the world. Ruscion, if you would?"

All eyes turned to a beautiful dark-haired ellon of noble bearing that stepped forth to take the offered hand of the King, first bending on one knee before him in respect before he rose. Thranduil in turn bowed his head deeply to this one. The King, who would have been difficult to see in the faint light were it not for his soft radiance, waved his hand once. The space in the middle of the hall filled with a shimmering vision of the Two Trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion. Thranduil was sharing Ruscion's vivid memory, for all of their honor and remembrance. Earelene's hand instinctively moved to cover her heart; she did not notice that the other elves did the same. Nor did she have awareness of her own gesture, except that her heart compelled her to do so. The beauty was as nothing she could imagine; they were being shown the minutes of the waning of Laurelin and the waxing of Telperion. And as the latter tree blazed into the flame of its golden beams and the silver light of softer hue died away, Thranduil allowed the vision to fade. With one last bow, he released the hand of ancient Ruscion, as all present bowed their heads in thanks. There were not words, and Earlene wondered how, exactly, she belonged with these indescribably spiritual beings who seemed to exist on a lofty plane so far above her. It was a given that she would have to find some mental space alone, to consider this. She had just been allowed to see something from _Valinor_...how did one even begin to process a privilege of that magnitude? Her eyes squeezed shut. Thranduil had told her once that if she elected to serve him, she would have experiences and rewards, that she would not otherwise. _That certainly was no exaggeration_ , she frowned.

Her thoughts were a runaway train. One of the Eldar, _here,_ has lived in the light of the Trees? She felt like her mind was on the verge of melting. Manwë one week, the sacred trees of Valinor the next. It all felt very big. Too big. _Mortals were never meant to have anything to do with such things_ , she thought. Though nothing about her expression changed outwardly, her insides seemed to be frittering apart. At that moment, Thanadir reached his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to his kiss on her cheek in the still-dark cavern. "Be at peace, Earlene," he said softly, even as she was blanketed by very different feelings. Calm, tranquility, acceptance sifted through her.

"Why did you say that?" she asked Thanadir, very quietly and for his ears only. "Did Thranduil tell you to?"

"No," he shook his head, confusion now suffusing his voice whose tones and inflections she knew so well. "I...do not know why. Have I offended you?" Now she heard hints of worry.

"No meldir, it is only that…" she sighed. "I think I would like to speak with you later; this is not the place or time for my musings. But, thank you. Your words were needed."

If anything could be one of Ratiri's childhood dreams come true, it was this. Of course he'd tried to imagine it all as a boy, but even the most vivid of human imaginations had limits; he simply didn't have the context to visualize something so hauntingly beautiful. He pulled Lorna close - Lorna, who he noticed had _tears_ in her eyes, staring with rapt fascination at something no mortal could conceive of unaided. To have seen such a thing - to have lived it - Ratiri wondered what twist of Fate had brought him here, so that he could have met these people, and experienced something most would never dare believe could be real.

Lorna hadn't had a great deal of imagination as a child; her life had not allowed it. Nevertheless, she and Pat had based games off _The Hobbit_ when Mam read it to them, hunting dragons and treasure in fantasy wilderness of a sort they'd never seen in real life. Then she'd discovered elves, and they'd let her into their world...what had she done, to deserve this? Had all the misery in her life been some sort of pre-emptive karma, building up to give her something wonderful? Yes, there were tears in her eyes, because nothing in her entire life had ever been this beautiful - it was so lovely it hurt, a dull ache in her heart for all the things she had never seen, and that her short mortal life would never let her. To witness this, even in memory - what in fuck had Gimli said, in _Fellowship of the Ring?_ 'I have looked on that which is fairest', or something of that nature. She understood it now. A tiny, wounded sound left her throat, tear-tracks glittering in the dim light.

It could not be only the mortals that felt so affected, because as the lights came up again and candles were re-lit, all faces in the hall were suffused with a solemn joy...even though presumably, this was not a brand-new sight for those present. And even though it had been a vision, an effulgence seemed to linger in the air, just as had been described of Laurelin and Telperion of old; that their light did not merely illuminate but moved in dews and mists that continued to shine.

Thranduil glanced over at their table, realizing with some inward dismay that it had been a serious oversight, not to have told the humans in his care what the celebration entailed, but it was too late now. He would have to find...something, later, especially for Earlene. Continuing on, he announced the gift exchange. Packages large and small waited under the tree, and Thanadir moved to assume this duty. He would read the name to whom each gift was addressed; inside would be included the giver's name. Thranduil would hand his seneschal the items, one at a time. So with a considerable smirk on the part of the King, the first name Thanadir read was….Thanadir. Every eye eagerly looked at him; for all his reputed sternness it was obvious that he was a cherished favorite of all the elves. A table was provided, for unwrapping in the sight of all, and he revealed a wooden, hinged box, whose lid he lifted, with a gasp of surprise as he looked up at Thranduil in disbelief.

The King smiled and removed his gift, lifting the ornament bearing a green beryl to his seneschal's brow, and placing the lovely circlet on his head. "Merry Christmas, Thanadir," he smiled warmly. "It was my privilege to draw your name," he clarified to the still-bewildered elf. Even Thanadir could not retain his grasp on his usual formality, and his deep bow was rendered somewhat comical by the grin of childish delight he could not erase from his features. Earlene did not care, she applauded, and Lorna and Ratiri joined in the clapping. All the elves looked at them in confusion before concluding en masse that this must be part of the custom, and joining in, which caused some snickering among the humans. It was all in good fun, and Thanadir's ornament added to his beauty.

Maerwen came next, receiving the package that was only _somewhat_ clumsily wrapped (Lorna tried). The scarf had actually come out quite well, long enough to wrap around someone's neck and still have plenty of ends to tuck into a coat. It was soft and warm, and Maerwen thanked Lorna with an inclination of her head.

Ratiri was called after her, and discovered a book in Sindarin - specifically, a picture book, much like a primer used by human children. The note enclosed said that it was from Vanya, one of the laundresses, whose own child had used it.

"Len Hannon, Vanya," he said, holding the little book reverently. When he returned to Lorna's side, she joined him in looking through it, at the beautifully painted images and flawless calligraphy. Even Ratiri, with his doctor's precision, wasn't ever going to emulate it perfectly.

Up went Ortherion, receiving his package. Earlene felt vaguely terrified, and was trying hard to keep her face from showing it. Even as she admitted to herself, that her emotions were completely ridiculous. How was it that she could do what she did, in a courtroom, in complete control of herself, and now be reduced to a quivering mass of worry over giving a gift to an elf? While part of the answer was 'hormones,' there was more. She actually cared about the elves, and what they thought, in a way she had not with any other large group of people before. Ortherion opened the wrapping, puzzled at first, but then he began to read and perceive what this was. His face lit up with what appeared to be a favorable response, as he looked from the document, to Earlene, and back to the document again. 'Booklet' might be a better word, because it had needed enough pages that Thanadir had insisted on carefully sewing it together for her by hand, with the kind of thread used to bind books. He'd even trimmed a regular file folder down into a sort of cover for it, and even though it was a hopeless cannibalization of assorted common office supplies, he had rendered the finished product into something halfway attractive. His "Thank you, Hiril vuin," seemed genuine, and he returned to his seat and excitedly began to show Lothiriel what he had been given.

 _Well it wasn't a total bomb_ , she thought, relieved. _He seems to actually like it._

Thranduil could not avoid knowing her response, and felt so sorry for her. She was becoming an emotional shadow of her former self, and he did not know what to do for her.

Lorna went next, waddling her way up to the table, infinitely grateful Thanadir had given her nice clothes - it would have been somewhat embarrassing to walk this gauntlet in fuzzy slippers. Her gift turned out to be from Thalion, the guard who had found her while she was lost (she was never, ever going to get over the fact that the word 'lost' meant 'empty' in Sindarin. Ever.) It turned out to be a set of throwing knives, better suited to her tiny hands than those used by the elves, perfectly weighted. "Len hannon, Thalion," she said, lightly running her fingers over the flat of one's blade. She didn't care what Ratiri said - she was practicing a bit with these tomorrow, even if just for a little while. He could hover, if he felt the need.

And so it went - Rîniel presented Earlene with an ink drawing of Buttercup and the chickens; Bainor the cook received a set of human specialty kitchen items from Thanadir; Thalion was given Ratiri's framed translation of Sonnet 55 in Sindarin. That one took a bit of explanation, including that it was difficult in places, because translating Shakespearean English into Sindarin wasn't an exact science.

Thranduil was next, and both Lorna and Ratiri leaned forward, wondering what on Earth Feren would have made for him.

The King unwrapped his package, and looked in admiration. It was a woodcarving, something meant for decoration in the home. The same pattern of trees in winter leading into a portal was rendered in bas relief on the wooden tablet. Thranduil was obviously very touched by the effort and gave sincere thanks. Earlene liked it because it was well-done but not opulent, and hoped he would keep it in their bedroom.

Many more small things were exchanged before the evening was over. Books, poems, an axe (the mortals did not understand this, but as everyone laughed they assumed there was an inside joke they did not understand), small gifts of food, drawings, and what Lorna was sure was a carved stone rabbit for use as a doorstop (again, unfathomable...elves). As a special treat, a very lightly sweetened hot cocoa was ladled into drinking bowls and served to all, to conclude the celebration. Happy chatter was heard all around, and Earlene was pleased to realize that they had been there long enough that she could eat some more food with her cocoa.

"I'm taking these knives out tomorrow," Lorna told Ratiri, "and you can't bloody stop me."

He winced a bit, because he knew that tone - it was one of complete finality. "Can you at least ask if Thranduil will go, too?"

She rolled her eyes. "Jesus allanah, I'm not going to stab my own foot or something." Fortunately she was quite enjoying this cocoa, so that was all she said.

"I know. Still, would you? Please?"

God damn him, he had something close to Thanadir's superpower. She couldn't resist it when those grey eyes turned on the Puss in Boots look. "You're a manipulative sod, but fine," she said, trying to sound stern. She couldn't keep a smile away, though. "Someday, you'll have something that'll make me hover over you and breathe down your neck twenty-four hours a day, and you'll realize how bloody annoying it is."

He was wise enough not to respond verbally - he just leaned over and kissed her temple. Bastard knew just how to get to her, and yet she let him, every time, because he was Ratiri.

It being late, they went their separate ways; their own private family holiday would commence in the morning. Thanadir took Allanah, who had fallen asleep some time ago, from Lothiriel and kindly bade them a good night. He smiled. Earlene did not see because of where she was seated, but the couple had hardly left off from looking at her gift to Ortherion since it was given. Thranduil insisted on sweeping Earlene into his arms as they walked back, with Thandir following at a little distance, admiring the sleeping infant. He strongly suspected that his King was having increasing thoughts of a nature inspired by Earlene's dress, and wisely gave them some room. And indeed, Thranduil was fully appreciating the sight of Earlene's charms as they bobbed enticingly, mere inches from his eyes. In spite of her swollen belly, she actually felt pretty tonight in this lovely garment, and blushed to see her husband's eyes drinking in the sight of her body.

Probably fortunately, Lorna was entirely unaware of anything untoward; she'd enjoyed her dinner and she'd like to keep it down. She leaned ever more heavily on Ratiri, but she refused to ask him to pick her up. He knew better by now than to offer, either; when she wanted help, she'd ask, and that was that.

They made it back to their own room in one piece, and she gratefully flopped onto the sofa, sighing in contentment. "Christ that was tasty," she said, leaning her head back and shutting her eyes. "Best Christmas dinner ever, though don't tell Mairead I said that." She wondered how her sister was doing in France, if she and Big Jamie were having one big Christmas dinner together. Probably, and knowing those two, there'd been at least one fantastic row in the kitchen.

"I value my scalp more highly than that," Ratiri said dryly, sitting beside her.

Lorna yawned hugely. "So you get your present tomorrow, but you don't get it in front'v everyone else," she said, and paused. "And I didn't mean that to sound kinky. I just mean it's private."

"I trust you," he said, not entirely certain he meant it. Either it was going to be something sweet, or something he should be utterly terrified of. Either way, it was bound to be interesting. "All right, let's get you into pyjamas before you fall asleep on the couch." He pulled her to her feet, helping her out of her Christmas clothes and neatly folding them over the back of the sofa. Her nightgown didn't fit anymore, so she usually slept in one of her flannel tents. After a trip to the bathroom and a quick brush of her teeth, he had her bundled in for the evening. She was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

Ratiri sat awake and read for a bit, but it wasn't long before he too headed into slumberland, barely remembering to turn out the lamp before he did.

Thranduil was dipping his head down with increasing frequency to place kisses on Earlene's exposed breasts, which was at first exciting but then became borderline alarming when she realized that he had lost all awareness of Thanadir as his desire rose. Biting her lip, she was not quite certain what to say. Perhaps he would return his senses quite soon? Though when he was nudging fabric further aside and nearly exposing her nipple, matters were not appearing hopeful. Well, there was always strategy. "My Lord," she breathed in her best honeyed tones into his ear, "if you would wait until the baby is settled and Thanadir has said goodnight, I will make it worth your while." It was her best ploy, and she had no idea how to back it up, but it was all she had and she did not want to see her dear friend mortified. He lifted his head, his eyes already glazing with lust, but he smiled at her.

"As you wish, meluieg."

Very soon, it was time to deliver on her promise, and there was only one thing that came to mind. Well, he would either be over the moon from this or beyond appalled, and there was only one way to find out. But at least that would take yet awhile, because he was not remotely done enjoying her dress. She was right back in his arms, and he had resumed where he'd been asked to leave off. With a dangerously naughty gleam in his eye, he'd kissed his way down her throat to her full breasts while murmuring "mine". _That word_ hadn't been heard in a long while, and it was charged with memories. Memories of being possessed by him. Memories of willingly yielding to him. Craving him. A thrill ran through her frame at the recollection of the first time he had touched her, for it had started much like this. He delicately slipped the fabric off of one nipple as he leaned in to latch onto her. Eyes closed as his hands roved to slip off her undergarment, caressing her under and over the sensual fabric of the dress as he nursed. It was hard to know how long this went on; the steady insistence of his tongue while fingers explored and teased and untied and unlaced and unhooked. Both breasts had been exposed at some point early on in his ministrations, because he had easily managed to slip the dress over her head, thus keeping it from any harm.

Thranduil relocated them to the sofa near the fire, continuing now without the interruption of her clothing to stifle his progress. Carefully taking her breast again, he paid worshipful attention to her body, teasing her with light brushes of his hands all over until she stifled a moan as she was lifted and lowered onto his member with incremental slowness. Just enough of her mind was left intact to marvel at how he'd worked out this position, because she was seated across his lap. He could nurse on her and thrust into her at the same time and coupled with the fire's heat warming her skin deliciously, a delirium of arousal had come over her. "I am yours, my King" she whispered. "All that I have to give, is yours." She gasped as the children inside of her kicked hard; he instantly responded by caressing her abdomen with soothing touches even as he set the rest of her aflame. The harder he suckled the greater her enjoyment became; the sum of his attentions were euphoric in a way that exceeded anything she had known before. With a stifled cry of ecstasy she climaxed hard around his unrelieved shaft; he held nearly still to allow her to take her full pleasure, kissing her softly as her breaths game in great gulps.

He too was reeling from this, for his pleasure in lovemaking was always doubled; he shared her mind and therefore the bliss of her responses. She returned his kisses with fervor; her lust was satisfied but not her wish to show him love. _There is something I would like to try, to please you, but I am afraid I will offend you,_ she blurted out in a moment of complete honesty. She had thought about this so many times, since his aur en onnad, and lacked the courage to ever do more but bury the idea.

 _What is it?_ he asked, curious.

In images rather than words, she showed him what was done, and that (if the written word was to be believed) that it would afford him an extreme physical pleasure. Like what she had done for him before but...more.

 _This is outside my experience, but if you are willing, I will be as well._ She was carried to the bed while he retrieved a towel, because there was always the chance that uncharted territory could be messy. He spread it out and laid himself on it, taking up the silently requested position of lying somewhere between on his side and on his belly with his legs scissored open; giving her access to all of his intimate places. She warmed their lubricant in her hands before touching him, thankful that her fingernails had finally been carefully trimmed down and smoothed by Thanadir some days before. Even as her hand explored new places slowly and gently, she positioned herself between his legs so as to enjoy him with her mouth, knowing that this alone was something that gave him bliss. Light touches gave way to firmer pressures as she used her tongue and extra hand to full advantage. And after many minutes, one of her slender and well-slicked fingers found its way inside. The articles had been right; it was not hard to locate what she was seeking and with a very gentle touch she applied the first caress.

Feather light but relentlessly, her dexterous finger kept up its ministrations while she kept him in her mouth, encouraging him silently to rock against her and gently thrust into her mouth and the fingers curled around his member. The moans began almost immediately. _Meluieg, I beg you, do not stop. This is...I have no words._

 _I want to feel your enjoyment, beloved. I will not fail you_. The torrent of soft but impassioned sounds from him was like nothing she had ever heard. It felt like a privilege beyond compare. Of all those alive, only she could give this intense pleasure to her King. She noticed how he pressed himself against her new efforts with zeal as he built up to his release. "Earlene" escaped his lips as she felt the spasm tear through his nether regions as he writhed in her hold. What he poured out was eagerly sought, and when he had subsided she crawled up to hold him. _I love you, my Lord._ Tender kisses were placed on his chest, neck and face as he smiled in happiness, though her belly made reaching some of him a tad awkward. That and needing the lavatory, when she didn't trust herself to crawl much less walk.

With a chuckle, he sat up, gathering her against him. _Meluieg. We will care for your needs, and then ask Irmo to bless us with pleasant dreams. And he will most definitely have his work cut out for him, after the pleasures we have had when yet awake. Thank you, for what you gave me._

 _I will assume the report was favorable, then?_

He did not stop smiling beatifically until he had fallen sound asleep as he kissed his wife's radiant face.

Christmas morning had its own alarm clock, as Allanah's cries woke them both. Earlene instinctively flailed the covers away to go to her, but was hampered by herself, and that Thranduil had taken over that side of the bed. (Privately, she suspected it was a ploy to keep her from going to the restroom on her own; there was little room on her side of the bed to get out of it and the only real way out of the bed was over his body.) "I will care for her, meluieg. Stay in bed." She was both soiled and hungry; the former he cared for swiftly and for the latter, he brought her to her naneth and joined them both in bed. The little tears of upset were quickly replaced by contentment as she suckled hungrily, causing Earlene to gasp.

"I think her mouth is becoming stronger," she said in a strained tone of voice, "but Happy Birthday, sweet little girl". It was rather early, to have what felt like an industrial strength suction pump attached to her anatomy. Moments later, it became apparent that wandering fingers were intent on enhancing her experience, and so Christmas morning was off to quite a nice start. When the baby was done, Earlene ensured that more than one thing was sucked on, so that when the sounds of tableware were heard clinking in the outer froom, all within the bedroom were quite content. "Everyone will be here soon," Earlene murmured, this time very glad to be helped to the facilities.

"There is time to use the pool, meluieg, and I know that you would like it. As would I. Just a few minutes?"

She nodded, unable to resist the idea. If they spent more time nuzzling each other and kissing in the pleasantly warm water than in rubbing the scented soaps on each other's bodies, no one was complaining. "Happy Christmas, Thranduil," she said as he dried her off, clearly far more interested in returning to bed than in behaving himself.

"Happy Christmas to you as well, Earlene," he smiled. "You can forgive that your husband is insatiable, I hope?" he murmured in a teasing voice.

She laughed. "I feel loved, Thranduil. There are no complaints, for I desire you as well. It is only that you may never get me past my inability to ignore poor Thanadir's sensibilities."

The King chuckled. "I remain unconvinced that he truly has any left, but I do not wish to cause you discomfort. Come, let us get you dressed. I thought perhaps you would enjoy wearing human clothing today? It is a special occasion."

Her eyes lit up. Long used to the elven dresses, she in many ways even preferred them. But that it had been the same. three. dresses. for weeks. "Yes, please." Maternity leggings and one of her very loose and wide tunic tops had been procured from her clothing at the cottage. She had her Inis Mor cardigan, and felt very happy.

When they emerged, Lothiriel was waiting for Allanah, and Ortherion was finishing with the table. "Good morning and Happy Christmas," they said in stereo. And Ortherion added, speaking carefully, "Thank you for my gift. I like it very much." (He pronounced 'much' more like 'mooch,' which was adorable.)

Earlene's face lit up in a smile. He really _had_ liked it. "You are very welcome," she said slowly. Just then Ratiri and Lorna entered, with Thanadir bringing up the rear.

Lorna had managed to take a bath without actually falling asleep in it, which was a miracle. Ratiri helped her back into her Christmas clothes and got her hair combed out and braided. She even managed the walk without waddling too badly.

"Happy Christmas, you lot," she said, a sentiment echoed by Ratiri as he helped her up onto the couch. "I love the cardigan, Earlene." She looked so happy to be in human clothes for once.

The sentiment was echoed all around, and tea was poured. Ortherion bowed and retreated, and they all moved to the table. There was the usual porridge, but also fruit tarts that were perhaps leftovers of the pie-making process. And to Earlene's delight, the kitchens had paid attention to another of her recipes, squash pie. There was actually squash pie with sweetened whipped cream for breakfast. _Perhaps if I say nothing the others will leave them be, and there will be more for me._ It was an educated guess, that this was unknown here. And besides, not everyone liked squash pie, even in America. Absurd though that was, to her way of thinking. Thranduil's eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. He was in rather a frisky mood, which he attributed to having had entirely too much pleasure last night. There were two squash tarts, and he served himself one of them just to see the look on her face. When he saw only her smile of unselfish happiness that he would enjoy this, his mischief was undone. Now he was genuinely curious, and used his knife to cut a small slice. Pleasant surprise came over him. This was not too sweet, and the spices created a warm sensation. He sliced it in half, transferring the cut part to her plate. "Try this, meluieg. It is very good." His eyes sparkled. He should probably be ashamed of his sense of humor, but sometimes it was difficult to control himself. She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"Thanadir, have you tried this?" she asked, cutting off a small piece for the seneschal seated next to her and placing it on his plate. To her great astonishment, he tasted it and wrinkled his nose.

"I am sorry, Earlene, I do not care for this. The texture is very strange, to me." She did not know whether to note on the calendar that she had found a dessert he did not like, or celebrate that there was more for her. Possibly both... everyone enjoyed the extra variety, she drowned her little tart in whipped cream, and soon it was time for presents.

It being Christmas, Lorna had two cups of tea, and her look at Ratiri dared him to say anything. Wisely, he did not; honestly, she was far enough along that he didn't know why he still worried, but he couldn't help it. He certainly couldn't fault her for eating two fruit tarts, for he did it himself.

He glanced at the presents under the tree, and wondered just what on Earth she meant, saying his was to be private but _not_ something kinky. Perhaps he just wasn't yet caffeinated enough, but he had no idea what could fit that description.

"Thanadir, it really is so nice to have something new to wear," Lorna said. "I hadn't wanted to get new clothes, but I feel like a human, not a lump'v different sorts'v flannel. The same thing over and over gets boring, so it's nice to have this to break it up some." She was actually considering ordering some more stuff off Amazon, or at least looking at pictures and asking Thanadir if he wouldn't mind concocting something like it; she'd feel like less of a land whale if she had a few different things. She wasn't quite as bad as poor Earlene, with just the same three things day in and day out, but she'd reached the point where she was close. Hopefully this was a sign Earlene was leaving off her seeming obsession with elf clothes, and adding some human variety. (Lorna was never, ever going to understand the appeal of dresses. She recognized that other women took to them like she took to plaid, but the allure had passed her by.)

Thranduil's inner world was somewhat brought to a standstill, at hearing Lorna's thoughts, He turned his focus to Earlene again, watching her. Her fingers were running the fabric of her top through her hands, and she was thinking about the flower pattern and that it gave her happiness to see it. That it cheered her. And yet prior to a fleeting thought this morning, she had not ever complained about the clothing she wore here, nor had he observed that this subject was even in her consideration. He would have to ask, later.

"So it's my first Christmas in another country. My family would do much like what Thanadir and Thranduil did last night; someone, usually my father, would randomly grab presents and hand them over one at a time and we'd all watch them be opened. What do people do in Ireland, or does it just depend on family?" Earlene asked Lorna.

Lorna laughed. "I only know Mairead's family, but with four kids, it was like a shark frenzy. If we'd tried it that way we'd've been there all day, but there's just us five, so your way's probably better." She shook her head. "One time Niamh pulled a wad'v tissue out'v a bag, tossed it, and hit a candle. You can imagine how well _that_ ended. I thought Mairead would have a coronary. One Christmas when I was a teenager, Shane somehow nicked an entire turkey right out'v someone's oven and we had it for dinner."

"Someday I really need to meet that man," Ratiri said. It wasn't the first Shane story he'd heard.

"I almost feel like I do, too," said Earlene, though with mildly mixed thoughts on the matter. She loved Lorna, but then there were those times like with the French toast…and she might not necessarily be able to cope with too much of that in a concentrated dosage. "Ratiri, how about you? Would you like to be the Hander-Outer of the gifts?" She felt like Ratiri so often was marginalized somehow, and it was a human holiday. His face lit up with a smile, and she could not honestly believe that Thranduil or Thanadir could care. A glance at the King seemed to swiftly confirm this, and it went without saying that if it was well with him, it was well with the seneschal.

It was easy enough to figure out which ones Lorna had wrapped (though he couldn't say his own were too much better) so he passed those around first, figuring it might be good to get theirs out of the way (especially because he wasn't entirely certain what Lorna had got everyone, and it paid to be careful). "In case you couldn't tell by the wrapping, these are from Lorna and I," he said, returning to sit beside her. "I'm not certain just what all of hers are, so I'm sorry in advance. Possibly."

Lorna elbowed him in the ribs. "Hush, you."

Earlene's package felt bulky and squishy, which had her guessing "weird scifi themed throw blanket" but she was completely wrong. She pulled the string loose that held the bundle together. It was a velvet robe in a truly lovely rust color that was reminiscent of autumn leaves. Soft and flattering, and cut in such a way that would fit her now and after she gave birth. And the sleeves were even those wonderful bell-shaped kinds, that you could shove each of your arms into as though they were a muff when you were really cold. She stood up to go and hug her, and give profuse thanks, only mildly annoyed when Thranduil hovered over her as she walked the short distance to Lorna. The two women exchanged a knowing look that said, more or less, 'we might let them live.' Which was quickly supplanted by a look of surprise from Earlene at her robe being tugged from her lap by invisible forces...until she realized Tail had come under her feet, and was saving their lives from the wrapping string and paper. She rolled her eyes, and tickled his tummy.

"Now, it probably goes without saying that I had a huge amount'v help from Thanadir on that one," Lorna said. "And by that I mean I managed to sew the straight seams, and he was nice enough to take care'v the fancy things for me." She hadn't even wanted to try to sew in the sleeves. Somehow, she _always_ fucked that up on a garment, no matter how hard she tried, and left the underside of the armhole all puckered and weird. There was a second gift from Lorna, too...a book on the Irish in New York City. Her hands were instantly drawn to turning the pages...this was going to be wonderful reading.

Thranduil next opened this, smiling as he realized how hard his friends were trying unsuccessfully not to think of what his gifts were. Alas, only Earlene had ever managed some mastery at this. But he had the grace to pretend to appear somewhat surprised. A History of Ireland, and a compendium of world religions and their origins. While the content of the packages may not have been news to him, the contents of the books were. Beautiful photographs, old photographs, maps...he was going to enjoy this greatly, and he sincerely was grateful.

Thanadir came next, and opened his gift only to frown at it. It was a little device, much like Earlene's phone, and yet not a phone at all. He looked up, puzzled. "Ooooh, that is an iPod, meldir. It plays music, and you can listen to programs on it too." That information made him smile, just like the thought of an elf roaming the Halls wearing earbuds struck her as completely anachronistic.

"It has playlists of different classical composers," Ratiri explained. "They're all labeled. Also some traditional Irish and Scottish folk music."

"And Enya," Lorna added. She'd figured the elves would appreciate Enya.

"But wait, there's more," Earlene quipped in perfect imitation of late night TV sales. To her shock, Thanadir caught the reference and laughed. _He is amazing,_ she thought with great fondness. His other gift from Lorna and Ratiri was a chess set.

"My mother had one like this," Ratiri said. "It's an Indian set - the pieces reflect the Indian equivalent of each European piece. Ivory's illegal now, so these are marble." Each piece was pale and smooth, somewhat larger than its European counterpart, and of course rather heavier. The board itself was black, but alternating squares had a delicate tracery of white leaves, of the same sort which formed a border around the entire board.

Thanadir's innocent eyes were filled with delight, and Earlene was fairly certain that either Lorna or Thranduil was not going to bed tonight. He was picking up the pieces and admiring them with his long, delicate fingers, and she wondered how long it would need before Thranduil had to leave the Dining Hall running all night as a Game Room. The King's eyebrows raised at hearing the thought; really it was an excellent suggestion and he would have to discuss it with Thanadir.

Lorna opened her package to find a soft robe that was heavier than a dressing gown, fleece-lined, big enough to actually button over her stomach. It was plaid, to her delight - a pattern of emerald green and a deeper, blue-ish green, with lines of dark red and white.

"It's the Clan Duncan tartan," he said, and just about fell over when she tackle-hugged him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He disentangled himself from her hug after a moment, needing air, and passed around the next round of gifts, noting that they were all much better-wrapped than either his or Lorna's. Oh well. It was the thought that counted.

This batch appeared to be from Thanadir, which made the wrapping suddenly understandable. Earlene was very surprised to receive anything, because he had already given her the gorgeous dress last night. "Oh, Thanadir," she exclaimed, holding up the lovely gown that was clearly for some months in the future. It was a mauve color, with green fabric rose leaves sewn onto it, and clearly designed with springtime weather in mind. It was not fancy so much as just incredibly pretty. The bottom was irregular, too, in a flattering way; it reminded her of a fairy dress. "Thank you." The only tragedy was that there was no way to even try it on, now; she would have to be content with holding it in front of her.

From the feel of Lorna's package, there was also clothing in it, and she was pleased beyond words. When she opened it, she found what she thought of as 'elf camouflage'; it looked much like what she'd seen the guards wear, a tunic of deep greens and browns, along with leggings and even boots actually small enough to fit. "Thank you, Thanadir," she said, running her fingers over the fabric. "I'd hug you if I wasn't sure I'd fall over if I tried to stand."

Ratiri opened his to find a beautifully soft, beautifully heavy length of fabric that turned out to be a cloak, of a shade of green that would help him blend in with the forest. And yes, his inner nerd had a silent fanboy moment, because _he had an Elven cloak._ It had a hood, and _pockets._ So very many pockets. He needed to find things to put in them, just because they were there and shouldn't go unused. "Thank you, Thanadir. I want to go outside just so I can wear it."

Earlene couldn't recall the last time she had seen Thanadir smile this much, and it made her so happy. Guessing how lonely and misunderstood he must have felt at many times in his long life, and now this...it was heartwarming, even if her hormones were involved in her perceptions. Thranduil had a gift too, which he opened. It caused his wife to stifle a gasp of enjoyment. A modern dark grey blazer, in what she thought was about the sexiest cut she'd ever seen. And trousers that matched. They were casual enough to wear to the pub and yet oh so classy. She had likely just experienced what it was like for Thranduil, to see her in clothes that advertised her cleavage. _Just, hot damn_ , Earlene thought.

There was a small package for Allanah, but by group agreement they decided to save it for the afternoon and her little party.

The next round of presents were Earlene's. She had to giggle when the one colossal box was dragged out and placed in front of Ratiri, who looked genuinely alarmed. This was Earlene, he reasoned; it couldn't be anything _too_ disturbing. He opened it carefully, and to his delight discovered beer-brewing equipment, pots and carboys and even a funnel, complete with big, dark brown bottles.

"Dad and I did this, when I was a kid," he said, lifting a bottle out of the box. "Well, we tried. After it blew up three years in a row, Mam wouldn't let us anymore."

"I know how to make it not blow up," Lorna said. "We can have proper human beer." Christ, she'd have as much fun with it as he would.

"Thank you, Earlene," he said, looking up at her. He was rather more moved than he wanted to let on.

Thanadir opened his large stack; it was books. There was a little note, explaining that these were her favorites, and she wanted to share them with him. The pile was tall; these were titles like Moby Dick and The Three Musketeers, Country of the Pointed Firs, the Little House on the Prairie series, and more. A shared nod between them was more than enough communication. Thranduil opened his, to find three cashmere sweaters in different colors, marvelling at their softness. There was a letter, too. _That is private, for your eyes only. You might want to read it when you are alone. Definitely not here,_ she told him. With a warm smile of thanks, he tucked the missive into the lining of his outer garment. All eyes turned to Lorna, who had four packages; tiny, small, medium, and what was almost assuredly a book.

Lorna started with the smallest of them, and discovered something that looked like a cross between elf-work and human-celtic - an oak-knot rendered in metal wire, used as a barrette. "It's lovely," she said - unlike the combs Ratiri had given her, this could be worn every day without fear of something happening to it. It took a bit of doing, but she managed to loop her braid up, fold it over, and affix the pin. The next smallest made her cackle with delight. "It's the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!" she said, laughing so hard she had to lean against Ratiri, who took it and duly admired it.

"Thankfully not actually live," he said, passing it back. "The M7 wouldn't be safe."

The next felt like fabric, and indeed it was: a Holy Hand Grenade T-shirt. A T-shirt big enough to use as a nightshirt even now, and black, so it wasn't see-through. The fact that the grenade was encircled with the words "to blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy" just made it even better. Tucked within it was a Holy Hand Grenade window sticker. By now laughing so hard she could barely breathe, she managed, "Earlene, you are the bloody best."

The last one, the book, turned out to be a book on hair braiding. For all Lorna usually wore her hair in a braid, she had a terrible habit of just using the same plain, basic style, so she'd have to practice now. With her new pin, it would be even more fun - and she could come up with more elaborate styles for her fancier combs. "Allanah, d'you want to learn how to braid?" she asked, showing him the book. He'd made no secret of his borderline fetish for her hair, and she was unsurprised when he agreed. "Thank you, Earlene."

She grinned, having the time of her life. Thranduil's gifts were next, and with his usual secrecy, he'd hoarded them all away from the tree. Earlene rolled her eyes, finding his quirks endearing. He first handed Thanadir's gift to him; more books. But these ones were more volumes of human poetry. Earlene idly wondered just how fast the elf would read all these, and decided she did not wish to know. Next, a fairly hefty box of medium size was walked over to Lorna and placed on her lap, with a too-happy grin.

Lorna wasn't going to lie - that grin made her legitimately nervous. When she opened it, however, she just about squeed with delight. "Jesus, you don't do things by halves, do you?" she asked, pulling out a mug. There were twelve of them, and they were all _Star Trek_ themed - a blueprint of the _Enterprise_ and one of the _Excelsior,_ one with the Starfleet logo in the colors of each crew department, and another...that one made her laugh, and she held it out to Ratiri. It was black, and had a stencil of the _Enterprise_ on it, with GET IN LOSERS, WE'RE GONNA BOLDLY GO wrapped around the top. "Thank you, Thranduil," she said. "I'll have to drink a lot'v tea, now that I've got these," she added, with a pointed look at Ratiri, who wisely didn't protest (but then, he was a bit too busy fanboying over the mugs). _Picard/Riker 2016, if only_ , she thought.

Ratiri was to be given something for which wrapping was pointless. "Please close your eyes for a moment, Ratiri, and hold out your hands." When this had been managed with a nervous smile, over Lorna's involuntary gasp of envy, a sheathed sword was placed into the man's grasp. "You may open them now," Thranduil said. At seeing his expression of disbelief, the King noted, "there is nothing quite like the motivation to be gained from wishing to be equal to a fine weapon, Ratiri. Because I know the significance would not be lost on you, I have chosen a sword for you that came from the armory at Menegroth. Our smiths in later centuries were never able to achieve the skill of those in Beleriand. This blade has served Elu Thingol, my father Oropher, and myself. Now it is yours."

Ratiri was so busy taking this in, so lost in the history of what he now held in his hands, that he couldn't respond. Lorna laughed a bit, still looking at the sword rather enviously - though not _too_ enviously, since she had her knives. "He'll be away a bit," she said.

Ratiri had thought, by now, that he was used to this - that he'd accepted that all of it was true, and wouldn't have any further trouble or awe. Yeah, nope - his brain had all but shut down at the knowledge of what he was holding, of the _history_...He was nowhere near good enough to justify having this blade, but Thranduil was right - it was good incentive.

"I…" That was all that came out as he carefully drew the blade, the firelight glinting red along the razor-edge. When he was a boy, he'd imagined having a proper sword, not the sharpened sticks he'd made. Never, ever would he have dreamt….

He looked a little too natural, holding that thing. And really, really hot. Lorna strove to get her thoughts under control, insofar as she could, and at least not scandalize Thranduil on Christmas bloody morning. "Breathe, allanah," she said. "Nope, he's well away."

Earlene was so busy staring at Ratiri with her mouth open that she failed to notice her husband smiling at her; she'd had no gift yet from him. And then her eyes narrowed, because Lorna looked excited, and even the imperturbable Thanadir had traces of interest on his face, though only her or Thranduil might have been able to see them. It smelled of conspiracy. "It is difficult to sneak anything past Earlene, wouldn't we all agree?" asked Thranduil, to a chorus of nods, enjoying her growing discombobulation. "Come, meluieg. Your gift is in the next chamber; there is not room here.

Her frown deepened. _What had he done, brought in a draft horse?_

 _No,_ he chuckled silently, holding his hands out to her. They all exited the rooms (Ratiri carrying his re-sheathed sword, of course), and she too was asked to close her eyes. She was carefully maneuvered to sit on a….something. It felt like a bench. _What in Eru's name…?_

"Thanadir will help you with your gift, Earlene. You may look, now."

"Valar," Earlene whispered, gaping at the double keyboard in front of her, the beautiful ebony colored naturals gleaming in a row. "You really got me a….how did you…oh who cares thank you so much" is more or less what tumbled out. She reached toward the keys, looking at Thranduil to make certain that this was something she was allowed to touch (every one she had ever been within ten feet of had a sign somewhere with strict instructions to keep one's hands off) and pressed a single, tentative note, feeling the resistance as the jack plucked the string...the sound was lovely, shimmering. Thanadir placed a spiral bound book in front of her with a clear cover, the sort that would have been run off at a printer's. 'Starting on the Harpsichord, A First Book for the Beginner,' she read. _You have got to be kidding me. Someone actually wrote this? Look at how much I can learn...I have something to do now! And this instrument is so beautiful..._

Turning again to Thranduil, she reached for him, wanting to give him a hug. Lorna and Ratiri smiled and thanked them again for their gifts, recognizing that these three were going to be snogging the harpsichord for some time yet, and elected to retreat with their gifts, promising to be back in some hours for Allanah's little party. When they were gone from the room, Thranduil gave Earlene a hug and a passionate kiss to go with it, so glad was he to see her happiness. He retreated to a sofa; it had been decided to remove some of the less relevant furnishings from this long disused chamber in favor of providing a place that multiple persons could enjoy hearing music. Lorna had given the idea of having it be a place to play more than just the harpsichord. While Earlene and the Elves had not been envisioned as some sort of weird Baroque Irish ensemble, it might be her closest chance to ever having Earlene and an elf in possession of musical instruments within ten feet of each other. Because clearly, her friend was not going to do something sensible, like learn to play an electric guitar in order to make this band name happen. Hey, sometimes you had to make lemonade out of lemons.

Thanadir quietly sat next to her, smiling, and they began to discuss the book. Earlene did have some understanding of written music, and helped Thanadir comprehend what was written about musical notation. He in turn had been playing on the instrument for weeks now, understanding the assorted sounds that could be coaxed out of it depending on whether both registers were used, or how long notes were held, or any number of subtle technical efforts. He had already worked out scales and fingering, and showed her what to do, setting many exercises to begin imitating. As the clear notes sounded, she wondered if she would perish from joy. Thranduil listened for some minutes, and then recalled the letter in his pocket. His wife and seneschal were as distracted as it was possible to be; he was as good as alone. Quietly, and carefully, he unfolded the paper and read:

 _Dearest Thranduil,_

 _The most difficult challenge left to me is the simple act of creating a gift for you that can be a surprise-not easy, when the one you love can see into your mind. But today you are away in Dublin, bringing home holiday trees, and I have a rare moment in which to try._

 _Right now, my thoughts are laced with melancholy. You are away from me, and Thanadir is with you. I feel divided from everything in the world that matters most to me, except our children inside of my body. I could not have understood, what pregnancy would be like. It is joyous, and yet more difficult than I imagined. But for your happiness, I would welcome this again, if you wished it. I think humans perceive the passage of time with greater tedium, sometimes, just as I understand that my experience is colored by the changes to my body. You have done everything imaginable to ease carrying the children for me, and even when I feel overcome by the most irrational moods, I have not lost sight of this. But none of this is what I wished to convey in this letter, so I will move along; I cannot say how long I have, before your return to the forest._

 _It occurs to me that compared to some, I am not overly sentimental. Perhaps neither are you, and between the two of us it offers explanation as to why you have asked little regarding my early life, and I have offered even less. I have told you next to nothing of my family, or what forces shaped me except some assorted unpleasantries concerning my brother, by which time I was already a grown woman. So spectacular has my failure been on this subject, that I have never even told you the names of my parents. John Conor Sullivan met my mother, Anya Ingrid Weber, in the 1970s. My father's family was very solidly Irish, as is likely no surprise to you. When my parents were first introduced, they went on several dates before my father understood that my mother's name was Anya, and not Eíthne. The sounds, how they are pronounced, are very similar, and he believed he was courting someone of an Irish background. And to be fair, my grandmother on that side was Irish, but it was still something of a surprise to him. At any rate, they were already falling in love, so gran had to cope with the fact that some German blood was coming into the family. This was a joke, of course, my mother was held in high regard by all. They eventually married after a long courtship, then came Aidan, and two years afterward I was born._

 _My early memories were of being loved, and feeling that there were expectations for me to meet. My father worked very hard to not follow in the footsteps of his parents, who were essentially farmers. He wanted something different for himself and his family, and earned the money to have an education. He became physician like Ratiri, a surgeon. It was made very clear that while I was allowed interests and the normal pursuits of childhood, that it was my 'job' to take my education seriously. Both Aidan and I had my parents' considerable aptitude for learning, and therefore, there were no excuses. Generally I enjoyed school, and both of my parents instilled in me the desire and ability to acquire and process information. When I was a child, computers were not yet common. I grew into my adult life with a knowledge of how to seek answers from books, and later on how to make use of computers. I had a number of female friends, a few of them close, and did not believe that anything about my life was unusual. I participated in activities with others my age, though it is also true that at heart I preferred the solitude of reading my books. Though I had opportunities, I did not try to excel at anything except learning. Perhaps I believed that if I took the time to learn a musical instrument, or how to dance, or participate in theater, that I would only have to set it aside later. I felt like I could not give myself permission to focus on anything but learning itself, I think is what I am trying to express._

 _My life as a younger person was not unhappy, but neither did it ever feel complete. My parents, who I loved very much, provided me every tool by which to succeed as an adult. But one thing went wrong, I believe, or was missing. I cannot say exactly why, but I never learned to be truly open to others. If I had to place blame somewhere, I suppose it would be with Aidan. I wanted to love my brother, but there was almost only ever scorn, and mockery. When I did not date boys or have romantic relationships, he was quick to instill words that caused me to feel that something was the matter with me. Words that I am forced to admit I came to accept as true. And when no one of the opposite sex ever made any real attempt to pursue me in that way, it made the words even easier to accept. But even then, I believed I had enough. I had friends, accolades, and a position of employment that was coveted by many. I felt I was doing what I was supposed to be, with my talents. Even after the loss of what friends I had in this world, nothing about my core beliefs in this regard had reason to change._

 _You may never understand how out of character it was for me, to perceive a growing emptiness, to wonder what I might be missing in my life, and to actually take the steps to leave all that behind to seek out a new existence here in Ireland. I did not come here to seek a mate, or even friends. Just to continue on alone, and try out learning the things I had deferred, to see if perhaps some of those would fill in what seemed to be missing. And then within hours of my arrival, there was...you. Within days, you were unwittingly filling every void, raining on every desert of my spirit. Before you claimed me, you gave me the opportunity to leave this place, to seek another life; you might as well have told a starving man to leave the only source of food for miles around. Everything I had went into coming here. I could not leave, and I could not leave you._

 _I have reflected, many times, on how it was probably the strangest series of events in the history of humankind, that united me with you. I doubt I will ever understand, why it was me. It does not really matter. From you, everything has come to me that was absent, and more. And whatever the future holds for us, nothing will ever take that away. You made me whole, gave my heart peace, and joined together what felt sundered. It is my sincerest hope, that I have brought even a shadow of this joy to your own life._

 _This seems like a good place to stop. I wish you a Merry Christmas, beloved husband. For as long as is granted to me, all the love I can give is yours, my beautiful King; nothing will ever matter more to me than your happiness, for you have given me mine._

 _All my Love,_

 _Earlene_

An elephant could have trampled through the room and he would not have heard it. He read every word, and then read it again, before he folded the paper to return it to his robe, moisture glistening in his eyes. He rose, and silently left the room unnoticed; their backs were to him as they continued to investigate the harpsichord. Walking into their bedroom, he knelt on the center rug; the same place that witnessed his prayer thousands of years ago when he found himself bereft of his wife. _Please_ , he begged. _Please_...the rest of his prayer was not spoken aloud, and what was beseeched was known only to himself, and the Valar who listened.

Lorna had to admit, she was nervous. This was breaking with tradition in huge, huge ways, and while the two of them were anything but traditional, this one was, to her knowledge, very rare. How many women asked their boyfriends to marry them? She was pretty sure he'd say yes, but still. Anxiety fluttered in her gut like a trapped rat.

When they reached their room, she poked up the fire while Ratiri lit the lamps, trying to ignore her sweaty palms. She fetched the little box, clumsily wrapped, and clambered up onto the armchair beside the fire.

Only now did she realize Ratiri looked distinctly nervous himself. He was almost as fidgety as she was, in fact - and held a wrapped package of his own. "You go first," he said.

Jesus, here it went. Swallowing hard, she unwrapped the little box. She'd sanded it herself, while Thanadir did the bits of Earlene's present she couldn't handle. He'd also by necessity had to help her with the box's contents, since she knew fuck-all about forging in general, let alone something as intricate and delicate as jewelry-making. She'd actually managed to measure Ratiri's finger in his sleep, so at least she knew it would fit. Though they were the same design - long enough to cover the first joint of the forefinger, the silver woven into intricate knotwork that actually looked vaguely Celtic - it was easy to tell whose was whose, since hers was about a quarter the size of his.

"We went about everything arseways already," she said, when he opened the box, "so I figured, why not keep on? I was hoping you'd, um-" _Great, Lorna. Really eloquent_ "-will you marry me?"

Ratiri stared at the ring, taking it out of the box. He was such a nerd that she'd known he'd love it done elf-style. "You and I think alike," he said sheepishly, as he slid the ring onto his right forefinger before giving her the box he held. "I was going to ask you the same thing." When she opened it, she found a tiny platinum Claddagh ring, an emerald at the heart.

Lorna looked at him, and burst out laughing. "Look at the pair'v us," she said, sliding the ring onto her ring finger. It went well with the silver on her right forefinger. "D'you think we can get away with getting married before Mairead gets back?"

"Oh, I have a much better idea," Ratiri said, with a smile that promised nothing good in the best possible way. "I would love to subject Baile to a Hindu wedding. My mother's bridal things are still in storage in Scotland."

"Didn't you say a Hindu wedding is like a week long?" Lorna asked.

"Exactly," he said, with a very slight smirk. There was an element of sin in it that did all kinds of things to her hormones.

"That's evil," she said. "I love it. And I love you." She leaned forward to kiss him, and reflected that here was one thing to tell the twins. How Thranduil had kept a straight face while knowing both their intentions, she had no idea; _she_ couldn't have managed it.

"Main tumase pyaar karata hoon," he said, pulling her onto his lap. "It means 'I love you' in Hindi. 'Tha gaol agam ort' is the definition in Scottish."

"I didn't know you spoke Scottish," Lorna said, resting her forehead against the crook of his neck.

"I don't," Ratiri laughed, running his fingers over the length of her braid. "Not really. How do you say it in Irish?"

"Is breá liom tú," she said. "So what does a Hindu wedding involve? Aside from a lot'v food, apparently."

Ratiri laughed. "Well, for a start, you wear a bridal sari, and all the gold your family has - and my mother had a _lot_. Your brothers are meant to carry you down the aisle on a litter, which might be a problem, though."

"Big Jamie's like my brother," she said. "And Mairead might be strong enough. I don't weigh much."

"No, but gold does."

Lorna leaned back enough to look up at him. "How much gold are we talking here?"

He gave her a grin that was entirely disarming. "My mother's family was very wealthy," he said, "and if she was going to go off into some barbarian land, my grandmother wanted to make certain they were well-represented. With all that jewelry on, you'll have a hard time moving."

Her eyebrows climbed practically to her hairline. "Now I'm a bit scared." And here she'd been afraid of tearing an elf-dress...she didn't think she'd forgive herself if she somehow fucked up Ratiri's mother's wedding sari.

"You shouldn't be," he said, kissing her forehead. "Everyone _else_ , on the other hand…"

"I knew I loved you for a reason."

He laughed. "It's best if we do it in the summer. We'll need a very, very large tent. Also, you need to get your nose pierced."

"I _what_?"

"You need to get your nose pierced. For the nath. Admittedly, it's meant to symbolize the bride's virginity, but still," he said, shaking his head. "Non-virgins wear it anyway - rather like a white dress in Western culture. And it would make your sister brick herself."

Okay, _that_ might make it worth it. "What else have I got to do? Get tattoos?"

"Not permanent ones, no. Indira and I can help you with the mehndi - it takes hours, and you have to hold very still."

"You're lucky I love you," Lorna said. "Now shut up and kiss me."

"As my lady wishes," Ratiri said, and did.

Time went by and though Earlene was engrossed, she finally had to admit, "Meldir, I do not think I can sit here any longer without a break. In fact, I have waited too long to move, I am afraid."

With chagrin the old elf realized, they _had_ sat there for quite a long time, given Earlene's limitations. He did not ask, but carried her toward the lavatory, where they were both more than a little surprised to see Thranduil sitting alone in the bedroom. His reverie broke when they entered, and he took Earlene with murmured thanks. Her rising desperation for the toilet must have been telepathically obvious, because he did not hesitate to place her where she needed to be. In the privacy of the little chamber, she was embarrassed to find herself panting from the relief involved at no longer having to struggle to hold it. That had been a very, very close call. _Good grief_ , she shook her head. But no harm done. Thranduil was there to help her wash her hands, and there was something different about how he was looking at her. _My Lord?_ She reached to hold onto him. _Is something the matter?_

He struggled to master himself, because he could not, would not tell her what was the matter. That was quite literally in the hands of the Valar, and it would be completely wrong to add to her burdens. What he was feeling now was a consequence of his own choices- _or was it?_ The King of the Valar himself had spoken plainly that their relationship had not been so random or of his own choosing as he believed...and that made a tremendous difference. Taking a deep breath, he helped her walk to where they could sit together. Weakening, he knew he could not maintain his resolve. Plus, he had vowed before Eru that they were together as one spirit now. _I read your letter, Earlene. It was beautiful and heartfelt but has caused feelings in me that I know you did not anticipate._

With her keen insight, she took the measure of him, and lowered her eyes. _I think I can guess what those feelings are, for I too struggle with them, though I try not to. I tell myself that it is foolish to fret and feel sorrowful when none of us can know the future._

 _I felt the same, meluieg, until the events of the past days. When a Vala informs one that a series of events was not so random or unplanned, and that he...chose you…_

She laid her hand over his heart. _Stop. You must stop, for both our sakes. I do not have your knowledge or your perspective. Only what I have read, and what I feel in my heart. Your gods, our gods, are not cruel, Thranduil. I have read some accounts that provide me with a thin thread of hope. If I am granted the opportunity, I will plead that we not be sundered from each other. I would give anything, do anything, for this mercy. In the meantime, I have been told that I am to do something that is their command, though I do not understand at all. I will obey willingly, and not only for the hope of a reward. For the happiness of your people, I would give my utmost; what greater privilege could a mortal have? Have that same hope and faith with me, and determine to do with equal courage what was asked of you. The rest lies outside our control regardless, and no amount of agonizing will make any difference. We mortals have a saying, 'hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.' I want the time we have to be filled with love and joy, not dread and fear. Today is our daughter's first birthday, and it is an occasion for happiness._ She tried to crawl around so that she could kiss him. They were alone, so it became more than one kiss. He sighed.

"You have powers of your own, meluieg," he said, a smile emerging. "There is wisdom in all that you have said, and my heart knows it. I must wait in humility, as must you."

"There will be times when thoughts of sorrow will come, Thranduil. And when they do, I am here. As are you; I am not immune from this either. We must give strength to the other, when the need arises. I love you with all my heart, my Lord."

He laughed and half choked at the same time, shaking his head. "Do you know that many months ago, Lorna told me in a conversation that it might have been the Valar that caused you to come to the forest? She explained to me in just how many ways any other woman alive would have told me to...well, I am certain you can guess at that, actually. You speak to me with deference so easily, Earlene, as though you were one of us."

"I _am_ one of you," she said rather forcefully. "And you _are_ my Lord, and you _are_ my King, and you of all people had better not start having a problem with that." Glaring eyes looked into his, until she had a moment to realize what she had said, and a generally horrified expression came over her. "Forgive me, I…."

He was already laughing. "Oh by Eru, Earlene, I love you. Do not apologize, I forbid it. It is time to return you to Thanadir."

"Thank you so much, for the harpsichord," she said, her eyes shining. "I am thrilled, and want you to know how much I appreciate it."

"Your eyes told me that, sweet one. And you are most welcome. Come."

Thanadir brought leftover pie and Allanah's little cake from the kitchen, with tea. Or rather, Thanadir supervised Ortherion at this task, and helped him, since a tray of rolls, sliced meats and cheese as well as some of the leftover roasted root vegetables took up some of a second tray. Lothiriel and Ortherion both were invited to share with the family in the very informal celebration of little Allanah's birthday. Lorna and Ratiri came in, looking immensely pleased.

Ratiri helped her up onto the couch, and they both burst out laughing when they looked at their hands. "So," she said, "apparently we had the same idea in mind." She held up both her hands, with the silver right on her right and the platinum on her left. "Felt like a bit'v an idiot, but there you are."

"We're having a Hindu ceremony," he added. "While I'm not terribly religious, it will give every busybody in Baile something to gawk at."

"And apparently I have to pierce my nose," she added, leaning against him. "And get loaded with so much jewelry I'll have a hard time walking. Because there's no way _that_ will end badly."

"Always provided your sister doesn't drop you first. I know she's strong, but gold really is heavy."

"I don't have enough brothers," she groaned. "Big Jamie's kind'v a brother, but apparently my brothers're meant to carry me up the aisle on a litter. _He_ could handle his half, but Mairead...well." Part of her was very tempted to ask her brother-from-another-mother, but while she viewed Thranduil as such, she had no idea how he viewed _her_ , or if that would somehow be beneath his station. Even she had a hazy idea that just wasn't what kings did.

 _NOW_ _you decide to remember that I wear a crown?_ _Kings do not throw French toast either,_ he smirked. _Besides, in the outer world, I am merely Fionn Sullivan. And, my heartfelt congratulations. I am going to hug you._ And he did just that, managing to restrain himself so that she could still breathe. He kissed her cheek, too, without warning. There were not words for how joyful this made him, though he would hardly tell her that.

Lorna squawked slightly, but hugged him back. _I've been in here too long,_ she said, and even her mental voice was dry. _I figured there have to be a few things beneath your dignity._ She laughed, and said aloud, "You'll get to see a pretty good show, I'm sure. You all will. From all Ratiri's told me about a Hindu wedding, it's...elaborate, to say the least." _Thank you. You can read my mind, you know how much I appreciate it._

"And that's the simplified version," he said. "If we actually had parents, it would be even worse."

Hugs were given all around, and even Lothiriel and Ortherion were taught with awkwardness and much laughing how to shake hands and give hugs to mortals by way of greeting or congratulations. They both managed to say 'congratulations' without making a hash of it; Earlene felt this was a rather complicated word to enunciate.

"Well, given that Allanah doesn't know the difference, consider her birthday lunch hijacked except the obligatory bunch of photos with cake," Earlene said. Honestly she thought these two would never manage to get around to this, and here they had blown her out of the water. She'd guessed two years.

Lorna laughed. "She'll be awfully mobile by then," she said. "Might want one'v those kid leashes, unless she can be made to not just crawl off when you're not looking." She ran her thumb over the ring on her left hand. She'd got used to not having one there, but wearing one again just felt...right. And of course there was Ratiri's, on his right hand, shining in the firelight...this was really happening. She tried not to grin like an idiot, and utterly failed. "Ratiri's got to get a load'v stuff shipped from Scotland, and I'd feel a lot safer storing it here, rather than my incredibly un-secured cottage. If somebody swiped his mam's bridal jewelry, I might just die."

"She'd certainly haunt us both," he said. "And we'll have to get her sari altered a bit. She was a bit taller than you, and, er, rounder."

"I will help you if there is anything I can do," offered Thanadir. He did not know what a sari was, but that wasn't about to stop him.

Lothiriel brought Allanah forward, and Lorna got out her phone, while Earlene 'helped' her open her present from Uncle Thanadir. Her little quilt was beautiful, and she promptly began to gnaw on it until Earlene gently distracted her. Next came slicing her little cake, and offering her a tiny slice on a plate. Earlene really did not want her getting a taste for sweets until after her teeth were in; kids did not need sugar and if they didn't have it, they didn't know what they were missing at all. Allanah could turn into Thanadir _after_ she'd developed good eating habits. And Earlene also had bought her two more toy plush animals. One was a penguin and the other an unrealistically friendly looking Tyrannosaurus rex, because she had liked the other dinosaurs so much. This left Thranduil explaining dinosaurs to his subjects, while Thanadir interjected, and Earlene was simply glad that it wasn't her because the conversation vastly exceeded her creative use of vocabulary. Though, the gestures that indicated 'large monstrosity' were somewhat universal. Soon everyone had plates, and was making themselves happy while Allanah got some food actually into her mouth, keeping poor Lothiriel busy chasing the stray bits that were being flung in other directions.

Lorna was so happy it quite honestly scared her a little. Even with the fact that she was a human blimp, things were frighteningly close to perfect just now. Little Allanah was burbling happily, there was very fantastic cake, and she had two rings on her fingers. Sooner or later she and Earlene would both be divested of babies, and could actually be humans again...she leaned against Ratiri, and wondered how Mairead and Jamie were getting on. She should try to get out to the cottage to wish them a happy Christmas through email, at least, even if she couldn't call.

"Pretty soon we'll have another four'v those between us," she said, pointing at Allanah. "God help us all. That nath thing's a bit ironic, give we'll have our own kids at our wedding."

"Not really," Ratiri said. "It's like a white wedding dress. Sure, once upon a time it signified virginity, but now it's just...what many women wear. Tradition. And as mentioned, your sister will brick herself."

"Which is the only reason I'm considering doing this," Lorna said. "You want me to stab something through my nose."

"You've done far worse to yourself," he pointed out.

"Hush, you. Earlene, have you come up with any baby names yet?"

Earlene and Thranduil both had expressions of wide-eyed panic that provided an answer. After a few seconds, Earlene tried to explain. "I'm very...conflicted about wanting elven names and also wanting the girls to be able to function in the outer world without getting rude stares from everyone they meet. I know that it's a question of one elven name, one Irish name, but which should be the primary name is causing more than a little consternation."

"I had a ten-year-old patient named Unique," Ratiri said. "Trust me, in this day and age, even an Elven name likely won't get side-eyed by many. I would say make the first whichever is easier to spell phonetically, but given half the Irish names I've heard, that could be a bit of a toss-up."

"Ours'll be Shane Liam and Chandra Katherine," Lorna said. "Neither Liam nor Katherine ever got to be parents, but they'll have kids named for them. Shane's named after, well, _Shane_ , and Chandra was a stillborn older sister'v Ratiri's. Nice and alliterative, at least."

"I love the name Chandra," said Earlene. "The telescope, and all. It's amazing."

"It was my grandmother's name, too," Ratiri said. "Thranduil, I have to ask. Lorna's only at six months and I can already tell her pelvis is too narrow to give birth to these children. Can you work with that? Because if not, we need to work out a way to get to hospital in Dublin. She's going to need a Cesarean."

Earlene looked at Ratiri with inner pity, though she allowed no emotion to show on her face; it was not her place to comment.

Thranduil replied carefully. "What care you choose to seek is your decision; I will not interfere or criticize you in any way if you prefer your own manner of intervention as a couple. But if you are asking me if I can safely deliver her children, here, the answer is yes, I can. I do not mean to sound arrogant, Ratiri, but there is no medical circumstance up to the moment of death that I am incapable of resolving."

It was intriguing, and relieving, and, from a sheer scientific viewpoint, frustrating. "How can that work, though?" he asked. "Removing mass is one thing -" and no, he was _not_ going to mention just why he'd say that "- but adding it? How can you add bone?" It was highly unlikely Thranduil would know any of the terminology needed to answer that question, but Ratiri had to ask it anyway.

"I am not going to be able to answer your question in a manner that satisfies your curiosity, and for that I am sorry. I have neither the vocabulary or...the power of my people does not work in the manner according to which you are accustomed to thinking. You are trying to resolve two completely different frames of reference. When I care for the body of another, what needs to happen is...what happens."

"You have no idea how I wish there was some way I could quantifiably measure that," Ratiri sighed. "Well, yes you do, actually."

After they were done with their food, Allanah fell asleep in Lothiriel's arms; she and her husband were besotted with the little girl and quietly conversing. "We are going to the movie room," Earlene announced. "There is one last Christmas tradition we must experience. Lorna, do you have it ready on the computer?"

A wicked grin from Lorna caused Thranduil to groan, "Eru, the last time she looked like that was the sword fighting scene in the hotel room." This caused all around laughter, even from Ratiri who had not been there but had heard enough about it.

"Shhhhh!" said Earlene, pointing at the birthday baby while Lothiriel grinned.

They relocated, and while Lorna was setting up, Earlene turned to Thanadir, in whose lap her feet rested. "Meldir, there is a very important phrase for this movie: 'You'll shoot your eye out, kid.' Now what that means is…"

After a while Ortherion had to depart to other duties, and wondered greatly when from within one of the mortals' assigned quarters he heard a chorus of "Nadafingaaaaaaaa!" He would have to ask His Excellency, on another occasion. The mortals' language was most interesting...


	53. Chapter 53

That night, snug in their bed, Lorna said, "We need to talk birth control. I never, ever want to do this again."

Ratiri pulled her close. "I would say tubal ligation and vasectomy, but given that Thranduil's healing of your uterus was unintentional, I'm not certain those would keep. You're too old to safely take hormonal birth control. That leaves us with condoms, which tend to have a high success rate - though not as high as the package claims. And to be perfectly honest with you, I've never actually worn one, so I'd need to, er, practice. It's simple enough on a banana, but quite different on yourself."

Lorna looked at him. "A _banana_?"

"I forget you didn't get that far in school," he said, laughing. "In sex ed, that's how they teach it now - put one on a banana. I had to do it as a guest lecturer in several schools, because the teacher was too embarrassed."

She burst out laughing. "Christ, allanah, I wish I could've seen that."

"No, you don't," he said dryly. "Watching thirty fourteen-year-olds giggle makes it very difficult to keep a straight face yourself."

She rested her head against his shoulder. "Okay, so there's that. Some guys don't like them, though."

"I'm sure I'll live," he said, more dryly still. "And if all else fails, and things go...awry, there's always England."

"I know. I'm just not sure what it'd do to our relationship with the elves, though. For all I know, they'd not forgive me." And she really, really didn't think she could handle that. They'd become too much a part of her life now. "God, maybe we could get some morning-after pills through Niamh. That'd take care'v the issue before it became an issue."

"And it's not even abortion," he said, "it just keeps the egg from implanting in the uterus." Hopefully the Elves could make that distinction, though of course they couldn't be sure.

Lorna yawned. "Worry about it later," she said. "Sleep."

Thanadir was completing his duty in patrolling the forest late that morning, and had taken the electronics to the cottage as had been his usual custom. His last act was to stop at the mailbox, where he saw another package addressed to both Earlene and Lorna. His countenance transformed in anger, as he hurried to retrieve the computers and other devices, and ran all the way back straight to his King, presenting the package first to him. Though the seneschal refrained from commenting, the blaze in his eyes and the hard set of his jaw were more than enough to command Thranduil's undivided attention. He considered what to do.

On one hand, the item was not addressed to him. On the other hand, it was a foregone conclusion that the contents were barbaric, and designed to upset the very pregnant women who had just enjoyed themselves more on account of the holiday than in some time. The celebration of Christmas had been lifting to their spirits, and he was loath to allow this to be opened by them. He knew that were he to simply act as he saw fit, Earlene would not object. But Lorna? Lorna did not like decisions being made for her, and he had dodged disaster with her last time she was badly upset on a mere technicality. It was never possible to entirely fathom, how her thinking would proceed on any given matter, and in this instance, that part was maddening.

He looked at Thanadir. "I do not want to give it to them, meldir. And yet it is not addressed to me."

"It is addressed in part to one who is under your authority. It has made its way to your Halls," the elf said, his eyes flashing. His opinion was as obvious as his emphasis on the recurring word 'your.' And just to cement that, he added, "This would be a different matter had it gone to Lorna's home in Baile. But it has not."

He looked up at the ceiling, and arrived at a decision. "It is not my right to keep Lorna from knowing what is in here," he said. "But it is my right to ask Earlene not to look, or to allow me to look instead. That is the best I can do with this."

The stormy glower on his seneschal's face was as impressive as the manner in which his lips pursed together. "I know you do not agree with me, Thanadir. But you do not know Lorna as well as I do. In this, I only have authority over Earlene and what she knows."

"What Earlene knows about what?" she asked, as she walked into the room in her slow and careful manner, seating herself on the sofa.

"Von Ratched has sent you and Lorna another package, meluieg. And I am asking you not to open it, nor view the contents. I do not want you upset. I cannot ask the same of Lorna."

"As you wish, my Lord," she answered, not the least interested in whatever that asshole was doing this time. _Did he have nothing better to do with his time?_ she wondered. "I would like to go next door, and look at the harpsichord book, if there is no objection?" Thanadir helped her, and walked with her.

"It does not bother you, to be told that?" he was relieved, but genuinely curious.

The question was surprising. "I do not think it is any different for you, is it? If the King says to do something, there is nothing else to discuss, is there? Besides, in this case...whatever is in there is doubtless meant to be unpleasant, and shocking, and lacking originality. If he does not wish me to know…" she shrugged. "Though, meldir, I hope that no one else has been killed. Not that there is anything I can do but...it weighs on my heart, that such a thing still walks the Earth, preying on others. It is not...right."

They sat together, on the bench, while she turned the pages of the book to where they had left off on how to play scales. "It is not right," Thanadir echoed, hugging her to him. "D flat major, then?"

"Yes."

Lorna and Ratiri meandered in not long before lunch, both quite hungry. He'd relented and let her actually practice with her beautiful throwing knives, and as a result she was in quite a good mood - once the twins were born, she might be ready to graduate to slow-moving targets.

Earlene and Thanadir were absent, but that wasn't a surprise - there was, after all, a harpsichord. No doubt that would keep the pair of them occupied for weeks, until her twins were born.

The pair of them gave Lothiriel a chorus of "Mae govannen", though Ratiri's was rather better-pronounced. Her English was shaky as yet, so hopefully she wouldn't be able to understand the questions Lorna had to pose to Thranduil later.

"They off with the harpsichord?" Lorna asked, hauling herself up onto the sofa.

"Yes. I do not know who is more taken with it, Earlene or Thanadir. It is for the best, in that between the two of them they are learning faster than either would on their own. Earlene did have some musical education in the notation used in your world, where as Thanadir is Thanadir," he smiled.

"Someday, the pair'v them need to a duet with it and his violin," Lorna said. Hey, it would be damn close to what she wanted...Earlene and one Elf, at least. "I've got an acoustic guitar I could bring, and we could all cough up something."

"It might be worth hearing," Ratiri said. He was completely ignorant of all instruments, and content to remain so. His dad had tried to get him to take piano lessons as a kid, but it had been an utter disaster - not helped by the fact that his teacher had been a stern old battle-axe of a woman who hit his fingers every time he got a note wrong. (The day his mother found out about _that_ wound up kind of legendary in the village; it wasn't every day one saw a tiny woman screaming in a mix of English and Hindi, threatening to shove a stick somewhere very unpleasant if her son's fingers were ever touched again. And Dad, the useless sod, had just stood there and laughed. It was _mortifying._ )

Thranduil was temporarily distracted by the astonishing memory of Ratiri's, before having the presence of mind to murmur an agreement. He cleared his throat. "Lorna, a package came for you and Earlene from presumably Von Ratched. You may do as you wish with the contents; Earlene will not be viewing them."

"Oh, brilliant," Lorna said, rolling her eyes, but at the same time, fear twinged in her. She was sure Mairead and Big Jamie were safe, but still. That bastard was that bastard. "She's got more restraint than I do," she said. "If I don't look, I'll always wonder. Knowledge is better than ignorance, right?" she asked, looking at Ratiri, who didn't appear nearly so convinced.

"Possibly not in this instance," he sighed, "but I know that won't stop you."

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, but he offered no comment either way, watching in morbid curiosity as she opened the package.

The first box, the one addressed to her, was likely the more harmless (if squicky) of the two, so she went for that one first. It was even more prosaic than the hairbrush, though no less baffling: a box of the blueberry-green tea she'd started favoring once Ratiri largely cut her off the caffeinated stuff. "Okay, help?" she said, holding it up so Thranduil could see it.

The King pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not want to talk about this any longer, Lorna. Could you find it within yourself to know that the man is a pervert and just let this alone?" He felt sick to death of the times he had already had to explain the assorted grotesqueries of what that one had thought or in which he had taken his wretched delight. Every time he was forced to tell her, he was forced to relive all of it again as well. The only thing he wanted now was Von Ratched, dead at his feet, with Eöl's sword keening its disgusting delight.

She really didn't _want_ to let it alone - she was confused, and didn't like it - but she also didn't want to force Thranduil into something he found too icky, so she nodded. Reluctantly. "D'you think it's safe to drink? I'm out."

"I...were it me, I would not trust it, Lorna. I would not accept food from a known murderer. That strikes me as risky. We can all travel to the cottage, if you need to order more. Or if it is something that can be had in the village, Thanadir would gladly go."

"Fair point," she grumbled, tossing it back into the box. "Christ, I don't know if we should look at Earlene's or not. On the one hand, why in God's name would we want to, but on the other hand, what if not looking bites us in the arse later?"

" _How?_ " Ratiri asked.

"Oh, I dunno," she waved a vague hand, "like, if he leaves us some sort'v clue, something that if we don't do it, bad shite happens."

Ratiri looked at her like she was mental, but he didn't outright contradict her. "Thranduil, thoughts?" Thranduil would likely - hopefully - have somewhat better judgment here.

He sighed. "Whatever it is, will be dealt with at a later time. I will not have this ruining lunch." He picked up Earlene's portion of the package and removed it to their bedroom, where he placed it in his own wardrobe. He returned. "I presume you would like your...tea...disposed of?"

"Yeah," she sighed. Great, now she really wanted some. Fucking hormones. "So, I've - we've - got some questions for you, that probably shouldn't ruin lunch."

Thranduil laughed. "Do not ever change, Lorna. I am happy to answer. Or, try to." Just having the contemptible package out of his sight already cheered him considerably.

Lorna laughed, and looked at Ratiri. He was the doctor, he'd be better at this. "We were discussing birth control, for after the twins have been delivered," he said. "Normally, were she to get a tubal ligation, or I to get a vasectomy, we wouldn't need to worry, but given that your healing ability inadvertently restored her uterus, there's no guarantee it wouldn't undo our surgeries. My question, though we didn't actually discuss this, is could you effectively do something like a tubal ligation yourself? It involves keeping an egg from leaving the ovary and reaching the uterus."

Thranduil's lips slackened. This was more or less exactly what he did for Earlene, but this was his wife, with whom he had constant intimate contact. _For another?_ And yet he could see why they asked. He already knew that Lorna did not wish for more children after these were born to her. The humans had these...surgeries, and yet their reasoning on this matter was sound. In the years to come, any illness, any accident from which he healed them, could in turn affect their childbearing. "I had not considered that while it is in some ways a blessing that I can keep you healthy, that what I offer keeps you...too healthy, in this regard. And that this has created a problem of its own, for you." He sighed. "I cannot do for Lorna what I have done for Earlene. It is not...possible. And at the moment, I am somewhat at a loss for how to help you."

Lorna looked again at Ratiri. "Well, shit. There's other, human things we could use, but they're not 100% foolproof, and...what I really need to know, is will you utterly hate me if I get up the yard again and...do something about it?" She didn't want to look at Thranduil, but she did anyway, rather afraid of what she might see in his face.

His expression was written over with confusion until it became plain enough in her thoughts what 'do something' meant, exactly. His eyes flared in shock, but only briefly. The humans were not elves. A mortal woman could in theory spend her entire reproductive span of years constantly with child, unable to have any say in the matter if she welcomed the physical union with her mate. Why Eru had made them thus, he did not understand, because it was in some ways a great cruelty. Perhaps something had gone awry? He struggled to find something he could say. "I would not hate you, Lorna. I cannot imagine anything that could cause me to feel in such a manner, toward you. I will not lie to you, no elf would choose what you are considering. Children are too rare for us, and each one is cherished. You might say we have completely the opposite problem of your race. Children are given to us too rarely, and to humans too frequently, perhaps. While I do not understand everything, I have learned a little about what some women endured, before your kind learned ways to regulate your childbearing. It is not my business, Lorna, to have an opinion on this part of your life. This is between you and Ratiri. There are only two things I can say, on this subject. The first is that were you to conceive again, it would not be hidden from the sight of any elf. The second is that...I will never offer a word of criticism for your choices, but you must not ask me to interfere in this for you. I cannot use my gifts to… 'do something' about it. I am truly sorry that I cannot be of more help, in this way."

Lorna sagged with relief, leaning against Ratiri. "I'd been afraid you'd kick us out," she said. "The odds'v it happening are pretty bloody small, but you never know. I'd never ask you to do anything - actually, since you lot know if someone's up the yard right off, all I'd need to do is take a morning-after pill. It'd keep it from being a thing I'd have to do anything about." She shook her head. "I don't know why it's not more even, between us and you - why you lot have a hard time while we drown in babies whether we want them or not. Childbirth, for centuries, was the leading cause'v death for women, but there wasn't any real way around it until fifty or so years ago. I'd thought'v getting a hysterectomy, but that seems a bit drastic."

"Um, yes," Ratiri said. "Much too drastic. You'll hit menopause in another ten years or so, and it won't be an issue then."

"Oh, joy," she sighed. "Anyway, two's enough. I don't ever want to do this again - it's horrible, and I've still got three months." There were times, though she would never tell Ratiri this, that she wished this whole thing had never happened. She hadn't actually told anyone just how much she _hated_ this, because it wouldn't do anybody any good, but she honestly would rather cut her uterus out herself than ever endure it again. Ninety-nine percent of it was unremittingly horrible - the only thing she didn't hate was when she felt one of them move. _That_ was amazing, but the rest of it? In her darker moments, which were growing more frequent, she had to admit that if she could have chosen to keep this from happening, if she'd known it _would_ happen, she'd have put a stop to it.

Thranduil simply pretended he had not heard her. He doubted that she wanted this heard. He even doubted that she really meant it, because he truly believed she had wanted these children. Her pregnancy had taken a far worse mental toll than Earlene's and...he refused to think on this, any longer. He was exceedingly grateful that Ortherion chose exactly that moment to knock and enter, bearing their food for the next meal. "Excuse me, please," he said. "I will go begin the process of prying Earlene and Thanadir loose from their interminable scales and arpeggios."

God, that really was such a relief...Lorna actually had an appetite back, now that she knew Thranduil would hate her and kick her to the wolves if she ever got knocked up and had to do something about it. "You two had better be the cutest babies that ever lived," she told her stomach. "You'd better not pop out looking like Winston Churchill."

Ratiri burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around her. In truth, he was bloody relieved as well. He would have missed this terribly, should the Elves have decided they couldn't stomach the idea of abortion. "All babies look like Winston Churchill," he said. "Neither race nor gender matter. It's inevitable."

Earlene and Thanadir sat side by side, tapping out the same notes at the same time on their respective sides of the keyboard. Thranduil watched for a moment in some fascination as he realized that Thanadir was applying some of the same principles as in sword training to this keyboard. They repeated the same motions over and over, until there was fluid accuracy. And this was not a skill in which the seneschal had the clear ascendancy; the particular dexterity required was new to both of them, and they were competing against each other. Earlene was biting her lip, her forehead knotted in concentration. It was almost mesmerizing.

"It is time for our meal," he announced, trying to shake off the assorted discomforts of the time he'd just spent with Lorna. In concert, they both stopped immediately. He offered Earlene his arm. She took note of his face, and leaned up to kiss him.

 _I love you,_ she smiled, hoping he understood just how encompassing that was meant to be. A far better smile spread over his face, and he found that lunch sounded far more appealing than it had a moment ago.

He'd had several days to ignore it, but Lorna's words would not leave his mind, entirely. So while Earlene and Thanadir were next door, the faintest of tinkling notes coming through the stone walls, Thranduil decided to do what must be done and open whatever the balrog had sent his wife. He shook his head...that sentence should not be able to exist, but such was his life now. With a razor sharp knife, he slit the edges of the small box open and... _what in Eru's name?_ This was quite possibly the lingerie she'd complained was missing, when he last lurked near here. And there was an image.

It was the blonde woman from Earlene's lawyer party, the one who had been so freely lascivious in her thoughts (and would have been in her actions, possibly, were she given half a chance). In the photo she was naked save for the blood-stained bra, cowering and terrified in a corner.

 _Fear not,_ was written on the back, _I let this one live._

Revolted, he closed his eyes. No one, no one deserved to be victimized by such evil, and he said a prayer to the Valar for her well-being. While a part of him wished it could all go away, he knew what he had been asked to do. What he would be given the chance, to do. With a sense of dread, the conviction washed over him that they would not have terribly long to wait.

For a treat, the women had both been carried to the cottage, under heavy if invisible guard. As the time before they gave birth waned, Thranduil became increasingly unable to tolerate even the thinnest whisper of risk. They remained out of sight, but no fewer than two dozen of his fighters formed a ring around their movements, and stood guard around the home itself. That not a whisper of a hint of Von Ratched had been seen or heard made any difference, to him. Today's date on the human calendar was February 14, and marked nine and a half months since she conceived. 'Keeping it together' as Earlene liked to think of it, was becoming harder. After the nine month marker had been passed, the reality of carrying peredhel became something she could not ignore any longer. And this could be two and a half months, yet. She had tried so hard, to push thoughts such as this away, and to not have them around her husband. It was not his fault, what his half of the genetics were doing to her body, and the comparative blessings for her children certainly would make this seem worthwhile. Eventually. She'd told him about Valentine's Day, which was not something she had ever paid much attention to, for obvious reasons. But he'd asked many questions and liked the idea, so...here they were, to enjoy watching some silly yet romantic movies...because. This wasn't even a holiday by Irish standards, and she had told Ratiri and Lorna with some trepidation. Yet, for the chance of getting out for an afternoon, they were glad enough. It had been agreed that they would watch "Benny and Joon" and "Don Juan de Marco" which were utterly ridiculous yet...romantic. That and, she didn't want Lorna to throw up, so they seemed like good suggestions.

Everything was so hard now, and she had tried to become reconciled to it. Remaining in any position for long was uncomfortable, and it was really only Thranduil's gifts or Thanadir's seemingly endless willingness to massage body parts that ached that had given her any sanity. Otherwise, she was certain she'd be curled up in bed, sucking her thumb while wallowing in self-pity.

The movies managed to distract Lorna somewhat from her misery, but only somewhat. Ratiri did his best, but she was just...miserable. She couldn't even throw her knives now, so she'd started teaching him Irish - studying Sindarin right now just seemed like a chore, but Irish was one of her native languages. He rubbed her shoulders now while they watched, but quite honestly, what she'd really like would be to take a very long nap, and wake up when it was time to give birth.

Still, _Benny and Joon_ was pretty damn cute, even she had to admit. Normally she thought romantic movies were garbage, but this was a movie that had romance in it, not the other way around, and the characters were actually enjoyable. It took her mind off her discomfort, at least.

They took a break for something to eat (in addition to the breaks that involved stopping the movie about every half hour so each woman could get to the toilet). A picnic of sorts had been brought from the Halls, that included some bananas procured at the Lasg'len grocery. Thanadir peeled one, and then rose to get two forks. He cut about two and a half inches off of the end of each banana, speared each with a fork, and proceeded to imitate the Dancing Bread Rolls scene of Johnny Depp's character. Earlene saw this and descended into hysterical laughter.

via GIPHY

Thanadir looked up, puzzled. "I wanted to see if I could do it," he confessed. "It looked fun."

Earlene held onto her belly, unable to stop laughing. "You have to stop. I've made it through nine and a half months of this pregnancy and I am not going to wet myself because of the dancing rolls. Bananas. Whatever."

Thranduil glared at his seneschal and pointedly took away one of the forks and ate the banana piece. This unfortunately made _everyone_ laugh, and tears were streaming down Earlene's face as she fanned herself. Sure god, she'd give anything for a balloon right now, even though that would not help. Her second favorite thing in the whole film was the balloon music. Well, that or ironing the grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Perhaps the next one?" he asked, trying to stifle his irritation. As the weeks wore on, all of them had felt the strain. He was trying to understand, why he recalled none of this with Alassëa. The truth was, Thanadir had taken care of her almost full-time; he had been able to merely saunter in when his duties were cared for. And while she had had her own difficulties carrying Legolas, he was insulated from many of them. It was not like with Earlene; he did not ever know her thoughts or share in them. And he certainly had not had another human couple under his care. Two mortal females, pregnant with twins at the same time...perhaps it was best, that Lorna seemed to decisively wish for no more children. If they did this again, surely some elements would have to be easier. Surely.

Lorna had just about pissed herself at Thanadir's dancing banana (and that sounded way dirtier than it actually was), and had to waddle her way to the toilet before it stopped being 'almost' and became 'oh shit'.

 _I want this to be_ over, she thought, grumbling to herself. Ratiri had said twins were often premature, and she devoutly hoped they would be in her case - she didn't need to be afraid being premature would be a danger to them, so she didn't feel guilty in wishing it.

Only the greatest self-restraint kept Thranduil from grumbling something back to her in agreement that would not have been in the least helpful. Fortunately, Earlene took it upon herself to start the next film. "I have loffed thousands of wheeeeemen," she softly imitated, while recalling that this was likely going to mildly scandalize Thanadir. Oh well. Snuggling into Thranduil's arms, she wished that his mood would be better, but understood. They were all going half-crazy with tension and boredom, and he had feelings too. Though, she'd done her best to keep him happy in what ways remained to her.

 _I am sorry, meluieg. It is that I cannot shake the feelings of vulnerability that come with you and Lorna being outside the Halls. You have been more than generous with your attention to my happiness. Please do not think me unappreciative._

She reached up her hand to caress his cheek, smiling when he leaned into her touch, but becoming distracted at the ridiculous introduction of Don Octavio. _Marlon Brando, he did not age well_ , Earlene thought.

Temporarily relieved, Lorna went and laid on Ratiri like a big lump, though she tried to return his favor with a shoulder-massage, just from the front. Her hands might be tiny, but they were strong, and when she could breathe in the clean, slightly spicy _Ratiri_ scent of him, it calmed her. She was doing what she could to not be miserable while at the same time not making anyone else miserable - though Thranduil was a bit of a captive audience, but still. She was trying to think of more pleasant things...it just didn't work that well.

She needed a cat. Tail didn't really come and visit; he tended to occupy wherever Earlene was. She needed one of her own, one that could bond with the twins and they could grow up together.

"Ratiri, I want a kitten," she said. "A little fuzzy one."

Ratiri seriously considered mentioning toxoplasma, but realized in time that that would be an utterly terrible idea. "I can get you a kitten," he said, "though I'm not sure if I can find one in the village. What are you going to do if it decides it hates the twins?"

"It won't," she said. "It will love them, and they will all sleep together, and it will be adorable. And fuzzy."

He grinned, and kissed the top of her head. "I will look for kittens, the next time we go into the village."

They enjoyed the film, with yet more interruptions for peeing, but the sad part is how ready all of them were to just return back to the Halls. The women were uncomfortable, and had long ago taken to using multiple baths per day to keep their sanity intact. In the water, they each found some relief from feeling like beached walruses, even if it was yet another issue that they could not spend all day in the water. But whereas a lazy afternoon of endless video watching once would have been a welcome treat, like everything else it was no good except in limited doses. Two movies had been pushing it, actually.

"Just think, Earlene," Lorna said, trying to be positive, "in what, two months, we'll be able to walk by ourselves. No more getting carried everywhere. We have feet we'll be able to use _and_ see." Yes, it was pathetic, but she tried.

"It might not be that long," Ratiri said, eying Earlene's abdomen. "Earlene, you've dropped. That's usually a sign they're getting ready to exit."

Confused, she looked at herself. It was true that things had felt more squished than ever down there, but she just sort of thought of herself as an ever expanding water balloon, and figured that the babies were looking for any real estate possible which they could still colonize. "Ooof," she said, as her abdomen felt tight and uncomfortable. "I think I need to stand up. And, I guess you would know. We don't have a full length mirror and...I can't really see myself like you can."

Thranduil took a closer look at his wife, perceiving what she felt. Ratiri was quite possibly correct. No one knew what would happen, for her.

"I would like to try to walk until I am tired, may I?" she asked Thranduil.

"Of course, meluieg." He offered his arm.

When they returned to Earlene and Thranduil's rooms, they all occupied their usual places after the lavatory was used. Again. Lothiriel had been playing with Allanah, helping her to try and stand, and the happy little girl clung to the elleth's knees, giggling with glee to see all her favorite people return. The sight warmed Earlene's heart, and she smiled and waved at her. Thranduil saw, and did the same. Lothiriel gasped, because in a blink, Allanah reached her arms out and tottered to Earlene and Thranduil. "Oh!" was all that Earlene could say.

Not skipping a beat, all of Lorna's frustrations dissolved as she whipped her phone out with lightning speed. _Fuck photos_ , she thought, switching to video. Every heart in the room melted to see the little girl take her first steps, shrieking with delight when she reached her parents and was hugged and kissed. With another squee, she turned just as quickly and tottered to Lorna and Ratiri. Ratiri smoothly took the phone from Lorna, seeing that the child was heading straight to her, and continued filming while her Auntie picked her up with the biggest smile anyone had seen from her since Christmas. Earlene hugged Thranduil, discreetly pointing at Thanadir. The old elf was beside himself with excitement, nearly overcome when Allanah was returned to the ground so she could walk to him as well. She giggled more, from kisses from Uncle Thanadir. It was a wonderful moment to share; everyone felt the joys of children. Allanah did not tire of her new game of toddling from person to person, and neither did they.

It had been another day. Thanadir had been so patient with her, at the harpsichord. She would not have blamed him, if he would have begged off or asked to do something else; the frequency of needing to change positions or get up and walk around was driving her crazy. Everything, was driving her crazy. Not long after Valentine's day, she found that her undergarments were being stained by discharges that were tinged with blood. So she'd switched to wearing only black ones, not wanting to have all of her underthings ruined. She had more or less refused to wear the ones the ellith did. They involved lacing, and there was no way she could get them done and undone in time with the present state of her bladder. There were few human things she insisted on clinging to, and well made cotton-blend bikini underpants were among them. Their evening meal had been the usual, with Lorna and Ratiri leaving soon afterward, though they always stayed long enough to play with Allanah a little bit.

This time after dinner tended to be Earlene's favorite part of each day. Allanah would fall asleep, and Lothiriel would always change her one last time before she departed for the evening. She would have Thranduil to herself, and without fail they would give each other pleasure. His actions spoke louder than any words; the ongoing changes in her body did not dampen his interest or his ardor in the least. Though, she wasn't kidding herself. Were it not for his ability to know her mind, she wondered if it would even be possible to climax. That she never had to tell him what felt good, what felt uncomfortable, and what she could not feel at all; that advantage was not underestimated. Together they groaned in their release; Thranduil caressed her belly as he subsided from his enjoyment as he always did. Which is why he felt the contraction, even as it caused Earlene to gasp. It was not too much more than extremely uncomfortable, but it was quite definite. Involuntarily she tried to writhe away from the sensation; he swiftly left her body. Just when she was certain it would not stop, it went away.

"What…?" she said, feeling afraid and uncertain as to what was happening.

"You are beginning labor, meluieg," he said, holding her tenderly. "That was a contraction."

"Ohhh. Can we...I would like to be in the pool?"

"Of course, Earlene."

He brought her to the chamber, about to carry her into the soothing water. Her eyes widened. "Put me down please, something is…" there were not words for the sensation. It felt like she was urinating, except nothing she could do would stop the liquid. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Meluieg, your water is breaking. Do not feel ashamed, my love, this has to happen."

"I tried to read what I could but…" she felt terrified, suddenly. "I don't know what a single thing is supposed to feel like, is going to feel like," she wailed, as what seemed like an ungodly amount of fluid continued to run out of her.

"Meluieg, estelio nin," he whispered. "I will not let you falter. I will help you, everything you could want or need will be provided for you. You will meet your daughters soon, Earlene. Try to remember that."

"And I still have no names for them," she groaned. "That does it. We are figuring out names. Surely you have some ideas?"

He debated the wisdom of reminding her that she had wished to meet them first, before naming them. "Perhaps we can come up with some ideas, and finally decide when we see them?"

She nodded, clinging to him, and did not object when he lifted her into his arms to carry her into the water. He held her, rubbing her back and soothing her. "What about names is important to you, meluieg? Do you like flowers, the stars in the heavens...I am sure you realize by now that almost all elves' names have a meaning?"

"I like heavenly bodies", she said, frowning. Somehow that sounded vaguely obscene. "Almost all human names have meanings, too, though I could see how you would not know that."

"They do? Your name means something?"

"Yes, it does," she laughed. "Earlene means 'pledge.' Sometimes it is spelled differently than how mine is. My middle name, Rhian, means 'queen'."

"By the Valar, meluieg," Thranduil whispered. "That is extraordinary. It is as if Manwë himself named you."

A frown came over her. "Good grief, I had not thought of that at all. That is...creepy, actually. I did not believe in any manner of fate but I am beginning to wonder, more than a little." She cleared her throat. "I like the name Ratiri and Lorna picked, Chandra. It means 'moon'. But I also like the idea of 'star', on account of the Eldar."

"What of Eleniel?" that means 'star'.

"That is lovely," she admitted. "I like that it would honor Elbereth, as well. There is a Welsh name, 'Seren' that means the same."

"Ithilwen means 'moon', he also offered.

"Selena does too. I...what would people think if it were Ithildin, after the...what Celebrimbor invented, the beautiful shining...stuff. Or what about just Ithil? Ithiliel?"

"The last one, I like."

"I wish I could see the starlight," she said.

"If that is your wish, I will take you outside."

"After this, I would like that, but at this moment I am happy to stay here awhile longer." They talked for some time, when another contraction came, this one just a little stronger than the first. While it lasted, she held onto him. And once past, she was taken and dried and clothed warmly. Thanadir appeared, as they were almost ready to depart, to stay with Allanah. The sight of him cheered her immensely, and brought with it a feeling that she would be alright. Perhaps she had taken this 'security blanket' thing entirely too far, but that did not matter to her just now. Hugging him as best her immense belly would allow, she asked him, "You will help me, meldir?"

He smiled. "Athon, Earlene. Ú-gosto." (I will, Earlene. Do not be afraid.)

Thranduil carried her easily through the passages of the Halls to the Gates, and outside. "Meluieg, there is something I would like to ask you. Something I should have thought of much sooner."

"Which is?"

"Our friends are very nervous about the birth of their children, and it is hard to say who has more concerns, Ratiri or Lorna. What calmness they are able to feel is on the merit of the trust and faith they have in my own assurances of my abilities."

Her eyes narrowed. "You want to know if I would object to them watching me give birth, is that it? For their own peace of mind?"

"Yes," he said, in a very small voice. He knew that this conversation was being had far, far too late.

"I do not mind. I certainly understand feeling afraid of what I do not know, because I have never done this before. It would be petty, to deny someone else the chance to feel better. But who I want is you, and Thanadir. And while I respect Ratiri...there are some things I feel strongly about that might not be so usual for him, with his training. So much of the reading I did talked about what women themselves have found to be a more….natural experience, versus what the doctors in the hospitals will do if they are given free rein. Little things, like, once the baby arrives, in the hospitals they sometimes want to clamp the umbilical cord almost right away, while the body is still trying to send blood from the placenta into the baby. I do not wish to hear about what to do unless one of us asks and...forgive me, these are my prejudices and fears leaking out all over the floor. I do not mean to imply he would be like that."

"You are being very generous, Earlene. I will do everything I can to keep you from being annoyed in any way. Even with all of my aid to you, some of this will be very uncomfortable, I will not lie. Unless you want me to take away all sensation of your experience, which is also an option. This will be whatever you wish it to, meluieg."

She nodded her head, as she looked up through the tall trees to catch glimpses of the star and moonlight. "The moon will be full tomorrow, it seems," she said, feeling happier about the idea of heavenly name choices before her thoughts returned to the present conversation. "I want to try. I want to experience birth at least somewhat like what human women do but...I see no merit to the abject agony that some women tell about. I do not particularly want to feel that."

"Then place your trust in us. I will manage what takes place in your body, and if I know my seneschal, he will manage your thoughts and feelings."

"Did he help your first wife deliver your son?"

"Yes, he did. And if I may say, he patiently endured quite an ordeal. My skills at healing were not what they are now, Earlene, and I also did not share her mind as I do yours. Her experience was uncomfortable, and she did not hesitate to take that out on poor Thanadir."

"But not you?"

"It is not lawful to strike the King, regardless of circumstances." This was said with no small amount of awkwardness.

"Of course...I do not know how that escaped me, I am sorry." She laughed. "I still feel badly, about that."

"Not as badly as I do, Earlene. We understood so little of each other. I think back on our first days and I…"

"Blame Manwë?"

He looked at her, eyes wide with surprise under the starlight. They both smiled in shared mirth and kissed, laughing. "Why not," he confessed. "The only thing I am now assured of is that I will never know the degree to which this was already woven in Vairë's tapestry."

"Oh!" she said, inhaling sharply and tightening her hold on him as another contraction took hold.

"I think we will go back now," he said. "This will go on for hours, Earlene, making sleep difficult if not impossible, unless I lay sleep upon you. I would guess that by breakfast, you will enter the more active stages of labor."

Lorna had been increasingly uncomfortable, and yet she was also pleased. She'd 'dropped' as well, as Ratiri put it, and knowing she was in the home stretch cheered her immensely. Oh, she still felt like a disgusting land whale, but the end was somewhere in sight now.

And Ratiri, bless him, had actually started to let her walk now - it would, he said, make things easier when her time came. Which, she had to admit, also scared her shitless.

She trusted Thranduil - he wasn't going to let anything happen to her - but a tiny part of her back-brain wondered, _what if something goes wrong?_ Something hugely wrong, that he might not be able to deal with. He'd said he could heal anything right up until death, and she believed him, but what if she had a heart attack or something? It was an irrational fear and she knew it - the women of her family tended to have easy childbirths - but she couldn't banish it. Not entirely.

Plus, the thought of him delivering her kids was still too fucking weird. Nobody wanted their brother, from another mother or otherwise, having to stare at their snatch for an extended period of time - and Ratiri had said that twins often took a while. By then she'd probably be in so much pain she wouldn't care, except Thranduil could probably take care of _that_ , too.

 _Quit worrying_ , she told herself, even as she paced the length of their lounge. She was safer now than any other pregnant woman on the planet besides Earlene; she had nothing to be afraid of. Gran had been every bit as tiny as she, and had managed to give birth to four children without the aid of an elf - or modern medicine, really. Lorna had never met any of her aunts and uncle, who all lived abroad, but the eldest had been born in 1945 (rather sooner after Gran's marriage than she ought to have been, but nobody ever brought that up in those days. Gran had said there was an old saying: "The first baby can come when it likes. The rest have to come nine months later.")

Lorna's own mam, born in 1950, had been a full two months premature, and had been what Gran called a "shoebox baby": she was put in a shoebox near the stove - basically an incubator before there were incubators - and fed with an eye-dropper. She didn't need to worry about any of that herself; even if she gave birth today, they were still at just below eight months, and she had a magic elf that basically precluded the need for incubators or shoeboxes or anything else.

So why the fuck was she afraid? It was irrational and ridiculous, and yet it was there, and there was no getting rid of it. Hopefully it would vanish on its own when she actually went into labor, and was too busy to think about much of anything.

She'd woken very early, and so was already up when Maerwen arrived to poke at the fire. The elf said, in a halting mix of English and Sindarin, that Earlene had gone into labor, and that they were welcome to watch, if it would reassure them.

Ratiri, naturally, had no qualms about that - he was a doctor, so seeing someone he knew with half their clothes off wouldn't perturb him in the least. Lorna thought it sounded somewhat awkward, and yet she went anyway, figuring that if nothing else, she could be some kind of moral support - and she could see exactly how this worked. Maybe then she wouldn't be afraid.

The night had gone much as he had said, at least from the early morning onward. When they returned, he explained to Earlene that he would like her to have sleep while the contractions were mildest and furthest apart, to help conserve her strength for later. He also discussed practical matters with Thanadir. Namely, that the two of them would need to be in and out of the water for hours to assist Earlene and in the sight of those who would rather not see them unclothed.

"I already have a garment for this need, Thranduil. If you recall, when I helped Alassëa, I was not nude with her. It would not have been seemly. Not to mention, I had a desire for my private anatomy to survive the birth of your son." He could not help the smirk that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It would take very little time for me to alter a pair of trousers for your use as well."

Chuckling, the King nodded. "I think I can say that Earlene will be far gentler on you, meldir."

"Perhaps. But for what a female endures to bring forth a little one, what abuse is heaped on me is small by comparison. I will return before she wakes, my King."

After his sewing project was completed, he made his way to the quarters of Lothiriel and Ortherion, with apologies, to notify them that the queen had begun her labor, and that extra duty would be the inevitable result. Allanah would need continuous care as everyone else would be diverted, and Earlene would need fruit and soft foods that could be easily digested. And everyone would want tea, and food available throughout the day. Without hesitation, the couple smiled at each other eagerly, and bowed to him. Ortherion assured the seneschal that he would go to the kitchens immediately, once he was attired. As sunrise neared, word and excitement spread through the Halls; their King's children were about to arrive. The first elflings, in more than ten thousand years.

Thanadir returned only minutes before Earlene began to wake from a contraction. She was clad only in a robe and one of Thanadir's wrap-around nursing bras, because she had complained earlier of sore breasts. The constricting muscles of her abdomen were plainly visible on the outside. Both ellyn moved to gently massage her belly. "It is a miracle, is it not?" Thanadir whispered to Thranduil, at this ability of the female body.

"It is, though it does not feel like one, meldir. It feels like an alien has taken over my insides," she grimaced, having woken completely. "I need the toilet," she whispered, incredibly grateful that they could take her there so much faster than she ever could have managed. It was entirely possible that she would navigate her entire pregnancy without wetting herself, which felt like quite an achievement. _It's the little things_ , she thought. Walking around was what she desired, and she now had Thanadir's constant help. It was rare in the hour before dawn, that ten minutes would go by between the contractions, which were gaining substantially in strength and frequency. And for each one of them, Thanadir guided her face to meet his eyes. He would ask her silly things, like to conjugate a verb or to recite the notes of a scale forwards or backwards. He distracted, he guided, and he gave her a physical anchor onto which to hold. And in between, he insisted that she eat small pieces of fruit, and sip tea. Always, his strong hands kneaded at her lower back, which felt much of the time as though it was no longer able to hold her up. She shook her head, wondering how an unfit or unwell woman could possibly manage this life event, and did not want to know the answer.

The discomfort was becoming hard to manage, and she asked to be placed in the pool. Until their friends arrived, it made the most sense for Thranduil to do this. He held onto her, massaging her belly and back, but was not as good as Thanadir at distracting her from her contractions. The beginnings of panic were creeping over her mind, when the seneschal appeared alongside her, his long hair braided back. The sight was so improbable that she broke into laughter in spite of herself, matching his grin. "That is better," he said, knowing exactly why she was laughing. "Now name for me all of the human months, in Sindarin." The stern look of expectation had exactly the desired effect. Though she was panting for air, her mind immediately switched over to trying to remember these little-used words.

"Narwain, Nínui, Gwae…...Gwaeron….Lothron…"

"Gwirith," he patiently corrected. She sighed, and even as her voice choked with discomfort as she held onto him, "Gwaeron, Gwirith, Lothron…"

Thranduil marveled at Thanadir. He had never guessed that they would bond this closely, but it was making all the difference in the world now. He was saving his strength, and his power, against anything that might go truly awry later on.

Lorna and Ratiri headed inside as always, he calm, she somewhat nervous. She really wished she had his ability to just sort of...shut off...the personal aspect, but she didn't have the medical training that gave him that ability. He'd explained that that was just something they taught you in school; you stay detached and clinical so that if you lose a patient, or if you have a patient in terrible pain, it doesn't shatter you. That it lets you do your job, but doesn't mean you don't care.

Lothiriel seemed quite unperturbed, at least, tending to Allanah as though all was perfectly normal. Lorna didn't know how she could, at a time like this - but then, God knew how old she was. She'd probably seen far more stressful things than childbirth over the course of her years.

When Thranduil told her that their friends were sure to arrive soon, she asked to change into swimwear that she'd somehow had the foresight to purchase. It was going to be some time before the lower half would need removing, and honestly the top, which was simply a glorified bikini top with a front closure, confined The Girls and made her feel much better. What couldn't float around or move couldn't rub against the wrong thing and be even more sore. Between that and her robe, it would scandalize Lorna a little less, she hoped. Or at least, give her a chance to break into the glories of the human body expelling two watermelons more slowly. And now she wanted back out of the tub. "The hardest part of this is….this," she said, gesturing in exasperation at the sheer size of her abdomen. There is no way to walk around with this weight out here, no way to grab it and hold it against me...I wish there was just no gravity, for awhile." The ellyn looked at each other helplessly, because gravity was going nowhere but neither of them wished to upset her. "I'm not that bad, am I? I know gravity has to stay."

Thranduil and Thanadir both smiled. "Perhaps we have been over-concerned. You are doing very well, Earlene. I have really done nothing that you would consider magical to aid you, thus far."

"Well, from what I read, I likely have not seen anything yet," she joked, trying to remain positive even as the next contraction came. "I wondered something," she said, her voice strained as she tried to distract herself. "How do you know, if everything is as it should be inside of me? I mean, that they are not in there upside down, or that my cervix is actually dilating or that my hips are wide enough for them to fit...any of that?"

"Because I can see into the body. It is difficult to explain; I am sure you realize it is what you would call a magical ability."

"It is something I can at least vaguely comprehend. We have machines that do the same. I will decline to ask how on earth you know what to do with the information you see. In your own way you must understand as much as Ratiri about how we work." With a shake to her head, she tried to move on to other things. "I am grateful to have you."

"You should have some tea, Earlene," Thanadir gently cajoled, swiftly combing her hair for her and braiding it. "And the kitchens made you some applesauce and biscuits."

"Okay, I can do this." She furrowed her brow and leaned heavily on his arm as they walked out into the dining area, and tried to convince herself that she felt remotely social. It meant a great deal to Thranduil, so, she would find a way to manage. There were times when introversion was just not helpful, and this was probably one of them.

"Good morning," she said to Ratiri and Lorna. "Welcome to the labor and delivery show." _When in doubt, pretend to be cheerful_. It had always served her well at the office, anyway.

"How's it going?" Lorna asked. Earlene didn't look _too_ uncomfortable yet, but the woman had been a lawyer - she had to be good at projecting calm. "Not that I'd understand a damn word if you told me, but still."

Ratiri wanted to ask how dilated she was, but realized the Elves would have no way of knowing what that meant, so he kept it to himself.

"Manageable, so far. I may as well tell you that what I've asked for is to try to do as much without intervention as I can, but that won't extend to the point of enduring anything beyond whatever my limits are. If the pain gets too bad, I'll be asking Thranduil to do something about it. The contractions are uncomfortable, but not unmanageable. This started last night within an hour after you left," she answered, gratefully drinking the tea Thranduil handed to her. He did not go far, realizing that nothing good would happen to the teacup if the next contraction came while she was holding it.

"It is about six of your centimeters, Ratiri," answered Thranduil, trying to be helpful to the man's curiosity. Earlene was guided around to sit at a chair at the table, but not facing it. Thanadir had a mental clock running in his mind, and knew she had only about one more minute to try and eat a little food. In Sindarin that was barely audible to anyone else, he murmured for her to eat a little without further delay.

"You've been having contractions since _last night_?" Lorna asked. Ratiri had explained pre-labor, but still, the very thought was horrifying. "Have you had any sleep at all?"

Six centimeters...a touch over halfway there. Given this was Earlene's first pregnancy, and given her age, she might well have hours yet - though Ratiri doubted Thranduil would let it stretch into days. That she was still managing to eat was a very good sign - but then, again, Thranduil. There was much he had to be taking care of right now. "How far apart are the contractions?" he asked, helping Lorna sit on the sofa.

"Less than three minutes," said Thanadir, who had taken the food from her and knew the next one was imminent. "Name the Valar for me," the seneschal asked Earlene. "All of the ladies, first." They laced their fingers together, facing each other, with Earlene holding onto him firmly as she felt the next one beginning. "Look at me, Earlene," he insisted, as he watched her mind shift off of the discomfort and to the question. "Varda, Vairë, Nienna…" she began, biting her lip as she furiously tried to think. "Vána, Yavanna…" the Ainur who had a less active role in the creation of Arda were frustrating, harder to remember for her. Every memory device she could think of was failing her, but it did not matter, she was still thinking when it had passed. In something of a daze, she realized she had not answered Lorna. "Sorry about that. I did sleep; Thranduil had me sleep until a little before sunrise when they were not so strong."

"Just a little more food," Thanadir cajoled, knowing that he had two clear minutes.

Well, she looked like it wasn't too bad...so far. "Have you got any idea how long it'll be?" Lorna asked, looking from Earlene to Thranduil. She had a feeling even he couldn't know _that_ with any actual accuracy, unless he induced it himself.

She looked rather disturbed, and Ratiri dished her up some porridge and fruit and handed it to her, along with a spoon. "You be sure you eat, too," he said.

"Oh, I'll eat when I'm hungry," she grumbled, just in time for her stomach to growl. "Shut up."

Ratiri, wisely, said not a word.

Earlene's eyebrow raised and she bit the inside of her cheek while thinking _lavatory, please_ rather loudly to her husband. She knew that if she spoke she would laugh. Thanadir helped her rise and waddle in the correct direction.

Lorna ate, but slowly. Her appetite hadn't been great the last few days; she ate in bits and pieces, nibbling like a squirrel. Privately, Ratiri thought it apt, given she was about the size of one. "How long can pre-labor last?" she asked.

"Several days," he admitted. "But likely not in your case. Not give that you and Earlene have help." He looked at Thranduil, and wondered how the ellon could look so serene. He himself was discovering that having his wife as the pregnant woman made things somewhat more unsettling.

Earlene returned, just in time for another contraction. "You still have not named the last two Ladies," Thanadir chided.

"Estë," said Earlene through gritted teeth. "And I want a hint on the last one."

"A well-known Scottish monster," piped Ratiri, grinning.

The gears whirred. Monster...Loch Ness…"Nessa," she said. _Please rub my back_ , she begged silently. This contraction was much longer and harder. Fortunately, the telepathic relay that ran from Thranduil to Thanadir was nearly instantaneous. _Thranduil, this is hard for me. It is beginning to hurt, but I know that you want Lorna to watch so that she does not feel so afraid for herself. This makes me feel like I have to hide what I am experiencing, and that is the last thing I need to have on my mind. Can you tell me something that will help?_

 _Do not pretend or be concerned about her, meluieg. While I appreciate your attempts to help our friend, this is not the time. Nor is it helpful, in the end. It is kind of you, to be welcoming our friends at all. Alassëa would not allow anyone besides myself, Thanadir, and one of the elleth Healers anywhere near these rooms._

 _Is that your way of telling me she was a holy terror through her labor?_

 _I will not speak ill of her, in this regard. But I will say that there is merit to your observation._

This was the time Earlene discovered that laughing in the middle of a contraction was not the best idea, as something like owowowowow was superimposed on top of quite a lot of giggling.

"Hiril vuin, I think it would be best to return to the next room where it is warmer; the heat will help you relax more."

Once she could breathe again, she nodded. "You are both welcome to come back there, stay, do, watch, whatever. I do not mind in the least. I will only apologize now because this is becoming harder, and I am not going to be able to interact so much...would be my guess." At this Thanadir's throat cleared, which was somehow the same as when she was young and her parents counted to three. _If mother could only see this_ , she thought. _Forget mother, if gran could see this...her favorite granddaughter being helped through labor by an eighteen thousand year old elf with Felix Unger-like tendencies._

Aloud she said, "Lead on, Thanadir."

Lorna, against her better judgment, looked at Ratiri, and the pair followed Earlene and Thanadir. Part of her was seriously disturbed by the whole thing, but most of her knew that it would be better for her to see what was coming for her than wonder until it happened. This did certainly look far more inviting than a white, sterile hospital room - maybe having such pretty surroundings would help, when her time came.

The pair of them stood out of the way while Thanadir got Earlene settled into the pool - well, Ratiri stood; Lorna couldn't stand in one place for very long at all, so she sat, rather ungainly, on a bench. Thanadir seemed to know what he was doing - he must have done this before, though Lorna couldn't imagine under what circumstances. Ratiri, meanwhile, propped his phone up on the bathroom counter, ready to note the time of each birth.

As the next two hours wore on, Earlene discovered why it was called 'labor', as had so many other women before her. Thanadir had exhausted the Valar, the House of Finwë, the sundering of the elves, Sindarin past tense irregular verbs, and every other notable topic of their history that might yield lists of things to name. She was still managing to navigate the contractions without making a spectacle of herself, but only just. The time between them was not even a minute, for the most part. Lorna and Ratiri went in and out repeatedly, unnoticed by Earlene. Equally unobserved was that her husband had slipped into the pool. She felt the best when she was standing in the water much of the way up her abdomen, though there were places to sit as well. It was a very large pool, and there were many choices as to depth or...whatever. The water took away much of the sensation of being dragged toward the ground.

No sooner had Thranduil laid a hand on her abdomen than the next contraction came, and this one was the worst so far. The sheer intensity of it caught her unawares, and an involuntary cry of pain left her throat as she held onto Thanadir for dear life. The force her arms applied to his ribs would have bruised a human male, at least a little. "That is right, Earlene. Hold on as tightly as you can. You must breathe, meldis. Do not hold in your air; breathe, even if the breaths are quick and small."

When it passed, the sinking realization dawned on her. _This is going to be awful_. She was nowhere near the finish line, really, and much worse was to come. Or was it? Maybe if she could just get past one more? She felt Thranduil slipping off the bottom of her swimwear as he closed his eyes and held his hand well down on her belly. "Meluieg, soon it is going to get much worse. Your cervix is opening, and is not all the way there. The contractions may not have any space between them from now on, and will grow in strength. I wish to be honest with you; you are beginning to genuinely struggle with pain."

"I did not know that I would end up feeling like it is a contest with myself," she said, looking up with eyes that were already becoming tired. "Knowing that other women have done this, unaided. I feel like I will be some kind of a failure, if I do not try."

Thanadir snapped at her, to her surprise. "Done this unaided and suffered agony, Earlene. Agony that there is no reason for you to endure. The birth of your child is going to be physically challenging for you even with the pain removed. You will still feel pressures and great discomforts; and you must be able to feel something, or else you cannot help push your children out. There is no award to be gained for suffering needlessly."

Thranduil said nothing, knowing that in this case, his seneschal's strong opinions on matters that were not strictly his business might work to an advantage. He did not want to see her go on in pain and misery, but he knew enough of females to know that this was an intensely personal choice. In this place, he was her husband, and to command her to do as he wished in this instance felt deeply wrong.

She stood there, trying to process the information to a conclusion, but sufficient time was not granted to her. There was no yelling or screaming, only a high pitched keening sound as her arm wrapped around her husband's waist and her other hand found Thanadir's. "Breathe, Earlene. Remember to breathe," the seneschal whispered, his words gentle and calm until it was past. Drinking in the deep breaths that the contractions denied her, she tried to think again, only to feel Thanadir insistently raising her chin. "Earlene, please. Do not make me watch you suffer." And he was using the sad eyes.

 _Goddammit._ The worst part was knowing that he was right, at a time when she was truly struggling because she wanted to act like Lorna. Lorna, who always seemed so tough, and able to do anything, push past anything. "Help me, please," she said to Thranduil. "Thanadir is right." _Though I hate to admit it more than I can say._

"I will be behind you, meluieg. You will feel my hands on you." _For what it is worth, meluieg, I believe you have chosen wisely._ When the next one came, it still felt like her insides were being squeezed out. She still could not breathe. But instead of the nearly unbearable pain was just a feeling of...it was difficult to describe. Unpleasant. Forceful. Icky. Those were her three best adjectives, and they still caused her to hold onto Thanadir as a distraction from now not nice the sensations were.

"Ratiri, could you please bring me water, or tea? Anything, to drink?" The irony, of being in a huge pool of water and feeling so thirsty…

"Of course," he said, heading out into the sitting-room. The pot was still warm (of course; Elves), so he poured a cup. She was doing well so far, and he had to admit, he was fascinated by the whole process. He'd never witnessed a pool-birth, and Thranduil and Thanadir seemed to be keeping her from feeling too much pain.

He returned to the pool-side, handing the tea to Earlene, courteously looking away. _He_ hardly cared, but he wasn't sure she'd appreciate anything like scrutiny. He stood just in time to hear Lorna say, rather quietly, "Well...that's unfortunate. Allanah, help." Even as she spoke she was waddling toward the room with the toilet. "And embarra-oh, good Jesus."

"Lorna?" he asked, making his way around the tub.

"...Liquid," she said, eyes squeezed shut. "Either I've pissed myself, or my waters'v broken. Without any fucking warning, I might add," she said, opening her eyes and glaring at him.

"I _did_ tell you not every woman has any," he said, taking her hand.

"Same thing happened to me, Lorna," quipped Earlene. "Standing right where you are standing, in fact. Maybe it's a lucky spot?" Her humor was surfacing very weirdly, just now.

"It's kind'v inconvenient timing," Lorna said, and yes, there was a touch of panic, simply because Earlene was still very much in need of the pool and Thranduil.

"You'll be fine, Lorna," Ratiri soothed. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but it will be a while before you need in there. Let's just get your bottoms off for now; nobody'll see anything under your robe."

"Thank Christ for that," Lorna muttered. "Allanah, I need a vest top or something. I haven't got one on under my tunic, and I don't want to get in the water in this."

"Lorna and Ratiri," Thranduil said, "if the water would make you feel better, use the pool. We hardly need more than a tiny space. Be at home. And Lorna, you do have plenty of time. I do not believe Earlene will need more than the next few hours, much sooner than you will require my undivided attention. Your early contractions should not be that bad. If they are, you are to tell me right away. Please," he said, smiling. "And, Earlene does not care what either of you look or stare at. We all know whence the children will exit, and the sight is strange to no one here."

Lorna looked at Ratiri. "You'd be more comfortable there than anywhere else," he said. "I'll get you a top, and I'll get my shorts so I can get in with you."

"Okay," she said, grimacing a bit. He kissed her forehead and left her to it, while she tried to strip off her leggings without taking her knickers along with them. Of all the damn luck...she hadn't felt anything she'd call a contraction yet; the closest was a very, very vague tightness at the base of her spine. Yes, Ratiri had told her not all women had any warning before their waters broke, but _still_. She was glad it was in here, and not out in front of God and everyone.

When he returned, he was clad in the ungodly dorky cargo shorts she'd mercifully never seen him wear - he was an utter dweeb who happened to look like a magazine model, and she would never understand it. He helped hold her robe while she got out of the tunic (unpleasantly wet on the bottom) and into the vest-top, which was so huge and long it might as well have been a minidress. Only now did she realize that, being white, once it got wet it wouldn't be of any use whatsoever. Fuck it, she had hair.

Ratiri had to help her into the pool, and he sat behind her hand held her secure against him. It was calming, though now that she was in the water, she was much less nervous. If she had a while to wait, at least she was in a nice warm tub. If one could even call such a glorious, natural spring a 'tub'.

"When am I supposed to goddamn breathe?" erupted Earlene, panting. The first five minutes of this had been...manageable. But now? "I feel like a tube of toothpaste in the hands of a demented four year old," came out in truncated bursts. The three of them had found a way to walk in endless circles, since the walking helped her feel better. But the squeezing, the relentless squeezing, even in the absence of the terrible pain was difficult to bear. "Is this what it feels like to be killed by a constrictor snake?"

Thranduil glanced up worriedly at Lorna, grimacing at the comment, only to see that she was laughing about it. _Eru, why do I even try to understand what will upset these firith?_ With a sigh, he returned his focus to his wife, after a hiss of pain brought him up short for his inattention.

"Earlene, very soon you are going to feel like you want to push. You are almost there. Remember to push when the contractions happen."

"Almost there? They said that about the Bar Exam, and that didn't end either," she growled. This brought a chuckle from Ratiri, who was seeing something of a new side of Earlene now that she was pressed to her limits. Another one came and she felt...something. It was indescribable; a sensation of the watermelon stuck inside of her wedging itself even more firmly, stretching out a place not ever stretched before. All she could do is stare at Thanadir in disbelief as she panted for air, though his eyes held no answer to what had just happened.

"You felt the head of one of the girls beginning to slip past your womb, meluieg."

"Oh," she panted. It felt so strange, to feel sweaty all over her face and neck, but...in a pool. A sudden and definite desire came over her. "I want to be in shallower water. I want to sit down. The three of them moved in that direction, but Thranduil did not remain behind her any longer. He stayed to one side, Thandir took the other. And sure enough, when the next contraction came, so did the urge she was warned about.

"Push, Earlene," Thanadir said encouragingly. "Do your best."

 _What does it look like I'm doing, my worst, you insufferable elf?_

Thranduil's eyebrows raised, but if this was the extent of her temper during birth, they were lucky indeed. And she had kept it to her thoughts, which meant that they likely did not go beyond...he saw his seneschal's eyebrows raise. So much for that hope. But Thanadir took her mental outburst with humor and no offense. A different tactic was tried.

"Push, Earlene. As hard as you can."

An immense amount of something like growling accompanied this effort, which brought on a new and even weirder sensation. It was muted, a lot, but there was a strange burning, and the only comparison she could find was from the day her husband had taken her virginity...times at least twenty five.

Lorna looked at Ratiri. He didn't need telepathy to be able to read her mind: _Did she just_ growl _?_ If poised, classy Earlene could emit such a sound, she _had_ to be utterly hating life. That...really wasn't encouraging. At all. The point of this had been to see what happened for reassurance, but it was having a bit of the opposite effect for Lorna.

"It's normal," Ratiri said quietly. "It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Says you," she muttered. "You're not the one shoving two watermelons out your snatch."

He tried to choke back a laugh, and failed. "They're nowhere near that big," he said. "Cantaloupes, maybe. Not watermelons."

"I should've known what I was in for when I found you had a langer like two Coke cans stacked together," she grumbled. "Should've warned me, but nooo, and now I'm stuck with a pair'v miniature bowling balls in my gut. _Thanks._ "

Ratiri couldn't help it; the sheer sourness in her tone made him utterly lose what composure he had. "Lorna, you certainly have a way with words," he said, and winced when he received a very pointy elbow to the gut.

Thranduil closed his eyes, unable to not hear Lorna and Ratiri's exchange. _What has happened to my life?_ And yet he had to focus on his wife. "Wait a moment, if you are able, Earlene. You will feel me touch you; if I do not help your body here, you will tear. It is not stretching fast enough for the baby's head."

Her eyes widened. She'd read about that happening and... _please, not that_. It sounded barbarically awful.

"You will be fine," soothed Thanadir, on seeing her worry. "Prepare for your next contraction, get ready to…"

"Push," she growled again, her eyes squeezed shut from the effort. Perspiration was running down her face and neck, which he blotted away with a washcloth to help cool her. The pool water was warm, which was good, but this kind of effort left her beyond warm enough already. She reached down with her hand, transfixed at these strange and completely awful sensations. Her heart leaped, she could feel the edge of a little head, and there was some hair there. At this point, a primal yearning she would never understand no matter how often she thought about it overruled everything else. That baby was wanted, in her arms, and there was only one way to get it. When the next contraction came, she grabbed onto the unfortunate Thanadir's arms with a grip he would not have believed possible from a human woman. She pushed twice as hard as anything she could have imagined, and she could imagine a lot. This felt like trying to shove a football down one of the three inch irrigation pipes at gran's farm. Or if she really wanted to be accurate, something like _trying to crap out a softball_ might be a better description. Because honestly, what tube anything was coming out of was frankly not discernible right now. _I am tiring, and this part is hard. Really hard_. For the next three contractions, she gave her all, and felt unspeakably disappointed as the baby's head seemed to advance with her pushing, only to retreat back into her. It was not stuck, but neither was it moving along very fast at all.

The softly whispered advice came again. "Take deep breaths when you feel the contraction building, Earlene. Work with your body as much as you can. Stop pushing in between, and take your rest. You can already see how difficult this is. That is how to make it happen fastest."

As much as she wanted to say something completely rude to Thanadir, what remained of her logical mind realized he was right. Nodding, she pitched herself forward more, her tailbones barely on the bench inside the pool, her legs spread apart very wide. She did everything he said, pushed mightily, and blinking through tears of wretched discomfort, felt a head that did not slide back in. A smile crept over her face.

"I cannot let go of you, meluieg, but you may hold onto me if you need to. She is almost born. Let Thanadir go, so that he can help you catch her."

Nodding again, she tried to simply breathe, as she released her hold on the seneschal. She felt irrationally jealous of Thanadir, able to see her baby's face when she could not because of her belly eclipsing her view. But she could feel her. When the next one came, Thanadir gently angled the infant down, so that its shoulder could slip out. First one shoulder, then the other. "Push, Earlene," he coaxed one last time. So much pressure, and then...nothing. It felt like a dam had burst, as slick baby ran past her fingers. Before she had another second to think about it, her daughter was in her arms, and her husband's arms were around hers. There was complete silence. Earlene looked at the little girl, and she looked back. She wasn't like Allanah at all...there was awareness, not the _tabula rasa_ of a human child. Tears ran from all three of their eyes. With a tiny hand reaching out toward Thranduil, the little fist grasped at his hair. When Earlene looked at her husband, she no longer had to wonder what pure joy meant for him. He was, quite literally, radiant. "She has your eyes, Thranduil," Earlene whispered.

"And your hair, meluieg." The child was beautiful, and not just because Earlene thought so.

Lorna looked at the baby, and at Ratiri. "You're wrong," she said. "Not _all_ babies look like Winston Churchill."

He tried not to laugh. He really did, but it just...happened. "That is a beautiful baby," he said. "And she does not, in fact, look like Winston Churchill."

 _The stars came before the moon, beloved. Eleniel Seren?_

 _Yes._

"Meet your Uncle Thanadir, Eleniel," said Thranduil, carefully passing the child to him.

In a moment of perfect happiness, Thanadir smiled down on the little elfling, while Thranduil reached over to unclasp Earlene's swim top, freeing her breasts. She watched in morbid fascination as the umbilical cord pulsed with blood, as Eleniel was offered her nipple. The mere sight of those precious little lips was enough to cause her milk to bead up. Thanadir and Thranduil already had their preparations for cutting the cord; two short lengths of white silk ribbon. A third ribbon was looped around her tiny ankle and carefully tied by Thanadir. When the cord turned white, it was tied off firmly in two places and cut betwixt. As the infant nursed, it was easy to forget that this process would need to be repeated. With difficulty, she tried to reconcile herself to this reality.

Thinking it was for the best, she held Eleniel out of the water to nurse. And here, in the pool, Lorna was able to meet the little girl. Ratiri with his long arms handed Earlene towels, and with only slight awkwardness was the baby wrapped in dry linens while Earlene nursed her poolside. It was decided to bring everyone out, for a time, so when Thranduil was out of the water, she was lifted up by both Thanadir and her husband, baby and all, dried and helped into a robe. To say that it was odd, to wander outside the bathing room with the dangling umbilical cord still between her legs was perhaps the understatement of the year. Thanadir held onto her; now that the initial elation was over, Earlene realized how weak and tired she felt. "She is beautiful, meldir," as they sat by the fire. Fortunately whatever the fabric was of Thanadir's pool garment, it held little enough moisture that a towel was able to manage it. "Thank you, for how much you helped me. You are an accomplished leader, for which I am very grateful."

"You are welcome, Earlene. But we are not done yet," he said, even as one of his strong hands massaged her abdomen, causing occasional cries of discomfort to escape from her. "I am sorry this hurts," he said sympathetically, "but we must keep your womb working; its task is not yet complete."

A great sigh was her only answer.

Thranduil spoke briefly with Lorna and Ratiri. "We will be away from the pool for perhaps twenty minutes, just long enough for the baby to nurse. This will help Earlene's womb contract down; if her body is not already beginning to push out the next baby in earnest by then I will have to help. Ithiliel must come out soon," he beamed, then left to have something to eat. He too would have to keep up his strength; this day was far from over for him. When he was done, he relieved Thanadir so that he also could take food.

It was with extreme reluctance that Earlene handed over a relaxed and sleeping Eleniel to Thranduil; Lothiriel would care for her. The elleth was astonished at the beauty of the child, and took her from the King as though she were made of glass.

"You have no idea how much I wish you could wave a wand and have her out. I am trying to find the mettle to continue, though there is no other choice. I feel I have not really been very good at this," she confessed.

"You are doing well, meluieg." In his own tiredness and preoccupation, he did not give her comment the consideration it deserved; something he would soon regret.

Lorna, wrapped up in an enormous fluffy towel, was experiencing contractions at rate which alarmed the hell out of her. She couldn't really call them painful at first - it was merely a very odd sensation, and Ratiri assured her it was nothing to worry about.

"Every birth is different," he said, massaging her shoulders. "Some take hours, like Earlene's, and some can take days. Fortunately, it doesn't look like you'll be in that category." Indeed his only worry was that one of them would decide they needed to make an appearance before Thranduil was ready to deal with her pelvis. Earlene was still very much in need of him - though her labor was progressing well, and if worst came to absolute worst, he could tend to her long enough for Thranduil to work with Lorna. He hated the idea of leaving her while this was being done, and hoped like hell he wouldn't need to, but with two women in labor, they'd have to do what they'd have to do.

"This is just _weird_ \- oh," she gasped. "Okay, _that_ hurt." It was a little bit like period cramps, but only a little - it seemed to grab her whole abdomen, including her back, very much like some kind of internal vice decided to take hold of everything and squeeze. While it wasn't terribly painful, it was definitely...noticeable. Very much so.

Ratiri began counting in his head, still rubbing her shoulders. When the next one came not quite two minutes later, a frisson of worry curled through him. He wasn't _very_ worried - yes, they were close, but they were also still quite mild - but a trace of it was there. Trust Lorna to have a terribly atypical childbirth, especially while poor Earlene was still very much in the throes of hers.

"I know telling you to breathe seems unhelpful, but it's not," he said, looking down at Lorna. "Deep breaths, in and out. Keep them slow. Just remember that Thranduil can keep it from hurting too much."

"Earlene didn't look like she was having any fun, even with that," Lorna pointed out.

Ratiri smoothed the hair back from her forehead. "Well, it's never fun, but it doesn't need to be hell. I know you don't want to hear this, but walking a bit will help you dilate faster." Given how close her contractions were, that was probably a very good idea. His shorts were unpleasantly chilly outside the water, but Thranduil had numerous robes, and hopefully wouldn't begrudge the use of one - or two, since Lorna needed one as well, her own robe being wet from the breaking of her waters. It was so enormous on her it was possibly the most adorable thing Ratiri had ever seen, but he valued his bollocks too much to say so.

The length of the thing made it difficult for her to walk, and no matter how many times she pushed the sleeves back, they still fell down over her hands. In the end he took her arm, helping her pace the length of the room a few times, always pausing near the warmth of the fire.

"I don't feel dilated," she grumbled, pausing to admire Eleniel. The baby really was the most beautiful she'd ever seen, with none of the squashed, red, well...Winston Churchill look you found on other newborns. "I just feel - oh, okay. _Nope_." She stumbled a bit, her knees buckling as she grabbed the back of the sofa. It had been a brief pain, starting small and rising to a rather awful crescendo before ebbing once more.

Ratiri took hold of her, helping her upright again. "Keep breathing," he said, hands rested lightly on her arms as she walked, ready to catch her if she stumbled again.

"I _am_ breathing," she snapped. " _You_ might not be, if you keep harassing me about it."

It was a good thing she couldn't see his expression, because he was trying very, very hard to contain his laughter.

"Beidh mé dúnmharú tú in éadan," she growled, resting her hand against the back of the sofa and leaning on it. "Is cuma liom cé chomh deas is atá sé." _I will murder you in the the face. I don't care how pretty it is._

"I know 'dúnmharú' is 'murder'," he said, lightly massaging her neck. "So I probably don't want to know what the rest means."

"You'd best hope you don't find out," she said darkly, and paused in her tracks as another roll of pain went through her. "Mac Dé diabhal de soith," she ground out. She didn't want to taint the ears of the little one, but if it was in Irish, nobody else knew what she said. " _Focáil_ seo. An féidir liom _suí_ síos go fóill?" Her brain switched back to English. "Can I sit _down_ yet?"

"For a minute," Ratiri said, helping her onto the sofa.

Thranduil's eyes widened as he turned his attention from eating some fruit and a roll to the sensations coming to him via Lorna's mind. _Oh Valar, not two at once_...chewing and swallowing in a manner that was distinctly un-Kingly, he shot Lothiriel a look of apology. She had bowed her head in deference to him the moment he met her eyes, but she could not completely hide the smile of amusement at the corners of her mouth. "Gely odrim, i Aran nîn," (many blessings, my King). Which was of course a polite way to say, _too many blessings all at once_!

Rushing to the next room, he knelt to feel Lorna's abdomen. "She must come into the pool, right away," he said to Ratiri, trying to adopt a tone of voice that would enable them to feel reassured. To Earlene he said, "Thanadir will continue to massage your abdomen, Earlene. Take some rest now; your womb is fatigued, but we cannot wait too long to have the second child be born. If your body does not recover soon on its own, I will intervene. If your contractions are too difficult Thanadir will bring you to me, but I must help Lorna now."

As she watched him retreat, Earlene shook her head. Just having one of the children out made her feel so much better; she did not see what the hurry had to be but would not contradict him. _All this time, and these kids have to pick the same three hours...what were the odds?_ Then she remembered, La Luna. Some in folklore believed a full moon brought odd influences...and after every weird thing that had already transpired in her life, who was to say? _I don't want the name Selena after all_ , she thought. _I want to call her middle name Morríghan_. Besides, Lorna had shown her Moon-Moon memes on the internet and...even a small risk of the dual names' meaning getting out seemed like a risk. No child of hers was going to be teased about being a demented wolf. And knowing that her daughters would be dark-haired with dazzling blue eyes... _I'd like to see someone pick on a kid named Morríghan._

 _Whatever you wish, meluieg. Traditionally the elleth's preference in names is given a great weight; we feel it is the right of the one who has carried and labored to bring the child into the world to choose._

She did not respond, imagining that he was rather busy just now, but a smile came over her.

Another contraction decided to make itself known in Lorna's abdomen, curling around to her back and down along her inner thighs. Ratiri helped her get the robe off - which she was _so_ thrilled about, given she'd taken off the wet vest-top, but whatever. Again, she had so much hair it was practically a garment in its own right, and obscured everything she actually needed obscured. "Is one'v them ready to get out?" she asked, looking at Thranduil a touch desperately while Ratiri found his shorts. He got in with her, and of course wound up tangled in her hair as well. It really was a bit like Cthulhu. "I'd thought first-timers lasted longer than this."

"Not always," Ratiri said, struggling to free a hand from the wet mass. "There was a woman in Scotland, a first-time mother who had her baby in a little over five minutes."

 _Wouldn't that be nice_ , she thought, as she felt another contraction start to gather. They weren't short things; they'd start with tension, then climb their way up into 'ow-fuck-no' levels before easing back down again.

Thranduil came to her. "You must tell me what you want, Lorna. I can cause you to feel nothing at all, but if I do so, you will have a very detached experience; it will be difficult for you to push or to understand what your body is asking of you. What I did with Earlene was to remove the experience of pain; everything you saw her react to were other forms of discomfort and the sensations of pressure. I can also try for something in between. You are going to feel my hands at the sides of your abdomen. If we are both fortunate, I will not need to touch you anywhere else." He hoped her sense of humor was intact. While he would willingly do what was needed, they both were in agreement as to their...preferences.

While feeling nothing at all sounded like a great idea, if she wasn't going to be able to push right, it probably wasn't. "I guess just do what you did with - _focáil gach rud_ \- what you did with Earlene." She managed to laugh a little, even though she'd ground her teeth against the contraction. "If these kids've got any manners, you won't have to. One'v them seems to want out in a hurry - you might just need a catcher's mitt."

"You may change your mind at any point in the birth, Lorna. Much of why I am asking is that from all I have read, this is an important experience for each woman and I do not want to deny you any part of it that you want." He closed his eyes. "You are not ready to push yet, the contractions you are having are to open your cervix. Thanadir distracted Earlene and coached her to breathe through these, as you saw. Ratiri, you should try to do the same. She may feel better to have her lower back rubbed. And...there is not room enough, for the child to pass through, Lorna. I am going to have to unknit the bones of your pelvis. There will be no pain but you will not be able to walk properly until the second child is born; it is important that you not try to do so without being supported. Do you understand?"

Lorna stared at him, wide-eyed. " _Unknit?_ " she asked. She wasn't sure what that entailed, but she could guess easily enough, and just... _eurgh_. "Okay. Um...Jesus." Her heart sped up until it was beating a tattoo within her chest, and Ratiri brushed her hair back from her forehead, his other hand reaching down to knead at her back.

"Trust him," he said, though inwardly he was even more stunned. He'd wondered just what in God's name Thranduil had actually planned to do, to widen her pelvic arch - for all he said the body did what he wanted it to do, even he couldn't create matter where there was none - but this made sense. A curious, slightly horrifying sense, and yet if it wasn't his girlfriend this was being demonstrated on, he would have been fascinated.

She nodded. "I get it," she said, now even more freaked out.

Thranduil felt such empathy for her. "Lorna," he said, his thumb stroking her cheek, "I will not allow harm to come to you. There will be no pain from this, only a feeling of warmth. Do not be afraid. This is something your body already can do; I am just going to help it along quite a lot more than it wants to on its own." She felt his hands slide down to grasp each of her hip bones and immediately the promised sensation of warmth began, even as he glowed somewhat.

All right, that was just... _odd_. Like nothing she had ever felt before, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, though it felt so unnatural that something in her mind shied away from it. She didn't look to see what he was doing - not that she could have anyway, given her gut full of human cantaloupe - but she couldn't help rather gruesome mental imagery, all of it based around chestbursters from the _Alien_ movies. What if all her guts fell out? Oh, she knew they wouldn't, because she knew Thranduil would make sure they didn't, but still, what if they _did_?

"Breathe, Lorna," Ratiri said gently, still stroking her hair with one hand and her back with the other.

She glared up at him. "Tá mé _ag_ análú," she snarled. "If you tell me to breathe _one more bloody time_ , Ratiri Duncan, I swear to Christ I'll rip your lungs out, Viking-style."

Ratiri was just pleased she could still be so bloodthirsty. If wanting to murder him took her mind off her fear, so be it.

"And to think I felt sorry for Thanadir," the King teased, knowing that she probably wouldn't lash out at him. Probably.

 _Ratiri, forgive this personal question but I know it will only embarrass Lorna at a time she needs to be focused on what she is doing. Is there a risk she will tear? I would deal with that now as well if I must, rather than repair it later._

 _There is, unfortunately,_ Ratiri said. _These are not small babies, and even with a widened pelvis, her vaginal tract is still small._ It really was a good thing she couldn't read minds, or she would probably murder all of them.

" _Thanadir_ has Puss in Boots eyes," Lorna said, still glaring up at Ratiri. "This one sort'v does, but not half so effective. And they'll be even less effective if I rip his lungs out."

"And what would you do with my lungs, once you had them?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Cook them up and feed them to someone I don't like," she said, doing a somewhat passable Hannibal Lecter imitation with her tongue. With sweat-sticky strands of hair half-glued to her face, her wide eyes like green fire, she looked close to deranged.

Ratiri blinked. "Never change, mo chroí," he said. "Never change."

 _By Eru, there is not enough wine for this_ , Thranduil privately lamented. How to explain the next necessity was flustering even him. It felt entirely serendipitous that Thanadir and Earlene chose just that moment to return to the pool, though she had insisted at going to look at Eleniel one more time. And Allanah too. There were more contractions, and though they were not that bad, they would feel better in the pool. It bolstered him, somehow, to have his wife nearby to speak of this. "Lorna, there is another problem. If I do not help you, the baby will cause you to tear. I do not think either one of us wants that to happen, but in order to care for this I will need to touch you somewhere I would rather not. I am very sorry. Do I have your consent?"

Earlene felt so, so sorry for him. He was being forced to be a doctor, radically out of context. Broken finger, ineffective vagina; they should not be that different, but try telling that to two people who would just rather not deal with the latter.

Oh dear _God_...yeah, this was _so, so_ not what she needed, but he wouldn't say this if it wasn't actually imperative. "Okay," she said, grimacing, looking at the ceiling rather than anything else. This was quite easily, hands-down, the single most mortifying experience of her entire life. Good. Fucking. _God_.

Ratiri wisely didn't say anything - just kept on with her hair and her lower back. "How do you say 'I will rip your lungs out' in Irish?" he asked, doing his best to distract her.

 _Well that makes two of us, just so you know,_ Thranduil fired back. He truly did not want to do this, but he would not watch her flesh tear apart when he could prevent it. With one of the more interesting expressions Earlene had ever seen on her husband's face (later on she decided that it looked like he had just slowly chewed on half of a lemon) he reached down and cupped her nether regions and forced himself to concentrate on creating the far greater elasticity that would be needed to safely allow the children to pass through. His fingers did not so much as twitch, and it was with great happiness that he removed his hand. The good news was, the next contraction was here, which gave both of them something else to think about. She was dilating at a great rate of speed, which justified the soundness of his choices, even as it did nothing to ease his feelings.

"Yeah, that's one I'll _not_ be telling the kids," she said, trying to cover the awkwardness a bit. "They don't need to know Mammy's snatch was broken so Uncle Thranduil fixed it."

Ratiri burst out laughing, trying to smother it in her hair. "You and your way with words, mo chroí," he said. "No, that's not one you should be telling."

She glowered at him, but a moment later lost it herself, giggling so hard she could barely breathe. Really, what else could you do, with something so awkward?

"You have to laugh or you'll cry," said Earlene softly. "And yet it sure beats being sewn up like a torn shirt."

"That it does," Lorna said, still giggling. "These kids had better be the most adorable things that've ever lived. Yours didn't look like Winston Churchill, maybe mine won't either."

"Ours are fully human," Ratiri pointed out, and only realized his error too late, when she jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Sorry. But I'm sure they'll be adorable once they stop looking like him."

"You just keep digging yourself deeper," Lorna warned. "Go on, do it."

"You twooooof!" What began as a chuckle ended in another contraction that caused her to instinctively clutch onto Thanadir. She could feel that things were moving, and that they felt different than before. The contraction did not feel so hard, nor did it last so long. _Was that a thing?_ What most definitely was a thing was the sudden and intense ache in her lower back. Words were failing her as she simply took the seneschal's hand and placed it where the pain was. All she wanted to do now was lean against him, and get a spinal transplant.

Lorna drew a deep breath, for once not at Ratiri's urging, feeling another contraction start to roll. Her instinct was to push, so push she did, and - wait, _what_? The sensation of something just sliding on out was so startling it drew a "holy _shit!_ " from her, along with a wide-eyed look at Thranduil. "Did I just - what the fuck was that?!" It certainly _felt_ like something just passing right on out down south, but babies didn't just _do_ that, did they?

Had he not been privy to her thoughts, Thranduil might not have been ready. As it was, he had to swiftly release her abdomen to catch the child and lift it into her arms, all in the blink of an eye. "Meet your daughter, Lorna." The sight of the precious child had just made all the mortifying feelings he'd endured worth it, for Ratiri had been right about the size of the baby. Short of his gifts, or the humans' advanced medicine, this would have gone very differently.

It had all happened so fast that Lorna was severely startled at having the baby deposited in her arms. She stared at the little girl, who was already demonstrating to the world that her lungs worked just fine. She had the redness common to newborns, but even underneath it, Lorna could tell the kid was much, much paler than either her or Ratiri - and she had a full two inches of curly, bright red hair on her tiny head.

"Are we sure this one's ours?" Lorna asked, running her finger over the downy hair. To feel this little one, weighing less than a cat, seemingly so fragile...this child was _hers. Theirs_. Tiny, or so she thought; she wasn't exactly up on how big a newborn was meant to be. "Hello, Chandra. That's some _very_ red hair you've got."

The baby actually opened her eyes - vivid green, just like her mother's - and stared. Lorna stared back, wondering if this was what being God felt like.

"She's beautiful," Ratiri said, wrapping his arms around Lorna more firmly, so he could hold them both. "Nobody will ever believe she's _ours_ , but she's beautiful."

"Christ, they'll think we stole her," Lorna groaned, unable to take her eyes off the baby. "How can she have this hair?"

"Your mother and my father were both redheads," Ratiri said, "and mixed-race children can look like anything. This one's going to need a lot of sunscreen."

"You should try to feed her right away, Lorna," Thranduil said. "Even before it is time to cut the cord. You can...help her?" he asked Ratiri. He understood the man's level of distraction from what he might ordinarily be considering at the moment. While he was not fully certain, he did not believe Lorna had taken advantage of the chance to ask Earlene questions about breastfeeding, which was far from as simple as it looked. Especially at first.

"I can," Ratiri said, still watching the baby as he shifted the tangle of Lorna's hair off one breast, shielding her as best he could as he walked her through it, teaching her how to shift the baby against her to guide her nipple to their daughter's mouth. Lorna had never been thrilled at having anything done to her nipples at all, and oh, this was not pleasant. Kid had to eat, but it made her twitch.

 _I will fix that. Without touching anything._ _Them. There._ Lorna had not been sure it was possible for a telepathic voice to grumble but she was pretty sure she was hearing it now. At the moment, he seemed fairly occupied with Earlene, and yet he broke away long enough to place a hand on her shoulder. _This should help. If it does not help enough you are to tell me. It is meant to feel relaxing, pleasurable, else you will not wish to do this and will come to resent it._

Lorna was so tired that 'relaxing' wasn't hard to come by, once he'd done...whatever he did. It was no longer unpleasant, at any rate; the oversensitivity issue ceased to be an issue, and it let her hold the baby without tension. _Thank you_ , she said, watching her daughter. A little of the redness was leaving the baby's skin - she was going to be as pale as an elf, Lorna just knew it. Yeah, they were going to need to invest in sunscreen. Buckets of it.

"We can give you a little more time, meluieg," he was overheard to say. "You must make the choice between a little more rest now, or charging on to the finish line. Either way I am going to have to help you; the strength of your body to keep pushing the baby out is waning."

Earlene sighed. _That was like a choice between a root canal or two crowns at the dentist_ , in her estimation. "Could I please have some more to drink? And then let's get this over with. I'll have no proper rest until she is born, unless I am misunderstanding you." Thanadir compliantly returned to her with water. Someone had had the brains to place a pitcher on a tray with drinking bowl at the poolside. As much as she wanted more, something told her that might be a bad idea.

Thranduil came behind her, holding onto her again. "This is going to be difficult for you, Earlene. Are you ready?"

 _Is it wrong if I tell you that I miss it when you used to only tell me part of the truth?_ She asked wistfully, recalling his assorted deceptions. She did not really mean that, it was only that this was an unpleasant reality to hear about, just now.

He laughed softly, reaching around to kiss her.

"Yes," is what she said aloud, drawing strength from Thanadir, who she knew would find some way to talk her through this.

The next hour and a half was not fun. Not fun at all. Whatever her husband was magically doing to make her uterus respond reminded her of those electro-stimulating devices that caused uncontrolled muscle contractions. The discomfort was significant and she was way past counting backward in dead languages to try to take her mind off of it. Thanadir seemed to understand this, and did not interfere when she basically held onto him like a barnacle and grimaced, rolling her forehead from side to side. He did whisper to her to breathe, and never stopped rubbing her back. The rhythm of his hand as it traced circles over various places that ached gave her something on which she could focus. It became like counting sheep, except it was counting circles.

When the time came to push, she gave her best, but was not apparently pushing hard enough, because after the fourth attempt she heard Thranduil. _I am so sorry, Earlene. I am going to have to help you with this too. You will not be able to manage otherwise. This is going to be very uncomfortable, and will involve more muscles of your body, but she must be born._

This felt like a heavy blow, and she could not help that she began crying. _Just do it_ , she told him, past caring. Fortunately her memories of the next many minutes were muted, afterward, though she would always know that the time was spent sobbing in pain against Thanadir. There was no easy way to describe having your body be forced to expel a child when it was basically saying, 'fuck all of you.' But in the end it was managed, and their second daughter, who certainly appeared to be a carbon copy of the first, entered the world. There were not words for how exhausted she felt. In a complete departure from anything usual, Thanadir held Earlene in his arms in shallower water, allowing the baby to nurse someplace halfway dry. Thranduil was fairly determined to move things along a little faster than nature; the placentas needed to be delivered before she could leave the pool. Or rather, it would make for far less mess if this were cared for here. Earlene barely remembered meeting Ithiliel, nursing her, or how she was transferred to her own bed, laid on several thicknesses of soft towels, and covered with a warm blanket. At some point, Thanadir exchanged his wet clothes for dry ones. He did not leave her side, feeding her little slices of fruit or offering sips of water. And comfort, because she felt like an emotional wreck; he held her against him and murmured about assorted minutiae, more for the sound of his voice than the content. She did not know what time it was, nor did she care; only that now she could rest and did not want to move.

Lorna's son seemed reluctant to enter the world, but eventually he did, kicking and squalling. _He_ looked far more like his parents, his complexion darker than his sister's even beneath the redness, with a head of wispy black hair - though when he opened his eyes, his too were as green as his mother's. At least they would _sort_ of look like siblings. Lorna let him latch onto her other breast until Ratiri took him and passed him to Lothiriel, kneeling to help her out of the pool. Even through the delirium of exhaustion, she was pleased to see her own feet again; all the weight lifting had left her less soft around the middle than she'd expected, though she'd still be wearing very loose tunics for a while yet.

Ratiri got her washed and dried and bundled into her robe again, though she wasn't much help there; she wasn't quite dead weight, but she was so tired she could barely move. Being warm and dry helped, her hair wrapped in a towel to keep it from just soaking her again. "It's over, mo chroí," he said gently.

"Thank. Fucking. _God_ ," she said, her voice a rasp. "I mean it, allanah, we are _never_ doing that again. And by 'we', I mean 'me'."

Ratiri wasn't quite sure where to put her, so he carried her to the bed with Earlene. He didn't want to take her and the twins back to their room quite yet - they seemed healthy, but he'd still rather keep them within touching distance of Thranduil for a few hours, just in case. Unsurprisingly, Lorna fell asleep immediately, so he spent a while combing her hair and watching his children - they'd been placed in a basket, with a pillow for a mattress, and were as unconscious as their mother. While they were obviously fully human, they were nevertheless the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

He had to laugh a bit about his daughter, though. While there were cases of mixed-race twins looking like two entirely different races, it was rare, and even more rare that one of them came out a flaming ginger. They were, he knew, going to need a lot of advice from Mairead, especially if little Chandra's hair stayed curly. He had no idea how to style and care for curly hair, and Lorna's was so dead straight he doubted she did, either. His dad would laugh himself sick if he could see this little one - he'd lamented once that he'd be the last ginger in the family. Obviously not.

It was odd. He was a pediatrician - he knew just about everything there was to know about babies, and yet he was scared shitless. He'd discovered in short order that it was very different when the kids were _your_ kids.

Thranduil, looking the most exhausted Ratiri had ever seen him, had finally allowed himself to eat a real meal. He looked at the bed, as if the sleeping women there were some sort of Mt. Everest. Screwing himself up for one last effort, the King spoke.

"Now they have to be healed from what was done to make the birth possible. Especially Lorna, who at the moment cannot walk. I hope you will forgive me for wanting to do this now while she is asleep; the embarrassment for both of us when she was awake is not something I particularly wish to experience twice." The expression on his face was one of query, asking permission.

Ratiri tried not go grimace. "Probably the best idea," he said. "Somehow I doubt she'll be looking you in the eyes for a while. I don't think I've ever seen her so mortified."

Thranduil shook his head. "While it was not my idea of enjoyment either, I wish she were less...like this. It is harder on everyone and...please forgive me, I should not have said that. I am very…" he trailed off, walking to Lorna, and gingerly placing his hands at the sides of her hips, with his thumbs over someplace she would not appreciate were she awake, and closed his eyes in concentration. Perhaps twenty seconds later, both hands moved up to her abdomen. While Ratiri could not tell precisely what was happening because of Lorna's robe, it looked for all the world like she was...deflating. When he finally removed his hands, he spoke in barely above a whisper. "She should find herself as she was before the children. If anything is the matter please come to me...tomorrow. I am afraid I have reached my limit today." Without another word, he walked slowly to the sofa, laid down on it, and fell asleep in seconds.

Ratiri looked at Thanadir with bewilderment; he was the only one in the room still left awake. "He had to expend a great deal of his power, today. I do not believe any of us anticipated that all the children could possibly arrive at once," the old elf said.

"I certainly didn't," Ratiri said dryly. "Thanadir, can you help me get Lorna and the children back to our rooms? She'll be happier waking in her own bed, and Maerwen can help me keep an eye on the twins, if she's free." He was going to need sleep himself soon, and he hadn't even done anything strenuous. It had been as emotionally exhausting as it was physically - and in two hours, he and Lorna would need to be up to feed the babies. "I need to get a breast pump, so we can at least take turns waking up."

With reluctance, he looked down at Earlene, and told himself that she was not going anywhere, and nodded. "Earlene's device was obtained from the chemist in the village. I do not know if it is too late now but if this is very important I can try."

"We'll be fine for one night," Ratiri assured him. "Earlene and Thranduil need you right now. If nothing else, I'll hold the baby while he or she nurses, and Lorna can stay asleep."

"You wish me to carry her to your rooms?"

"I can carry her, but not the babies," Ratiri said, feeling some obscure need to do this himself. She was so dead asleep that she didn't so much as stir when he lifted her, but she was much easier to carry now that she was minus two babies, placentas, and assorted fluids. "We can just put them beside our bed for now, and I'll set up the cradle tomorrow." They had brought Lorna's gran's cradle, which was more than big enough for the two of them, but they hadn't been expecting to use it quite so soon.

Thanadir retrieved little Chandra and Shane and followed Ratiri through the Halls, leaving once they were settled properly. "Maerwen will have her assignment change beginning tomorrow. If you find you need yet more help you are to tell us, please. And...congratulations," he smiled. "Galu." Turning to leave, he closed their door behind him and returned to the King's rooms, checking that Lothiriel had what she required before he returned to Earlene. To his surprise, she was not asleep, but curled in a ball, staring blankly at nothing. And tears were leaking out of her eyes, though it was not easy to see. He hurried to her. "Meldis, what is wrong, are you in pain?"

She shook her head No, but would not answer him. The only response he gained was when he held her against him, she returned the gesture by wrapping her arms around his chest. "Please? Will you talk to me?" That only earned a more emphatic shaking of her head. He sighed. He too was very tired, and he was left with only one option, if he was to understand. The effort was made, but the problem was, while he now knew her thoughts, he still did not comprehend her emotions. He had never felt so frustrated with being...himself. It was worse, than when he merely did not understand his own mind. Now it was someone dear to him, that he did not know how to help, and at a time that should be marked by happiness. He held onto her, rubbing her back, until he too fell asleep from fatigue.


	54. Chapter 54

Dear Readers...we are sorry for the inconvenience but we apparently were not able to keep up with the chore of updating our story on this fanfic site; it is simply too cumbersome and time consuming for writers to post truly large works here. Our tale is alive and well; it can be found on An Archive of Our Own (AO3) under either AnnEllspethRaven or Spamberguesa (the authors). At the time of me leaving this note, we have published up to chapter 111, with many more to follow. A time may come when we are able to manage bringing the finished tale here, but...now that we are over 50 chapters behind that is a monumental task and we do not wish to take away from our writing time to do this. Again, so sorry for the inconvenience...we have appreciated all our readers so very much! 3


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